Page 20 of Twisted Steel

“I don’t like violence,” I say, staring at his boots because they are easier than his face.“I don’t like men who solve problems with fists.I don’t like guns.I don’t like clubs.I don’t like whatever the hell this is.”

“I can tell.”

“And I really don’t like you standing there acting like you’re the only thing between me and death.”

His voice drops.“Tonight, I might be.”

The fear finds the crack, and it slides in cold.I look up to find Steel’s face is hard, but his eyes aren’t empty.They are focused on me with a patience that feels almost painful.

“What did they say?”I ask, and his jaw tightens.“The men in the sedan,” I clarify.“What did they say about me?”

“Nothing you need in your head.”

I laugh, but it comes out wrong.“That bad?”

“Yes.”

Honesty again.Sharp.Ugly.Clean.

I wrap my arms around myself.“I saved someone.That’s all I did.”

“I know.”

“That’s my job.”

“It is.”

“I don’t choose who deserves to live.”

Something moves in his expression, dark and unreadable.“No,” he says.“You don’t.”

“And you do?”The question lands like a slap, and Steel goes still.

I regret it as soon as I say it.Not because it isn’t fair.Because I already know the answer, and I suddenly don’t want to hear it.

His voice is quiet when he speaks.“Sometimes.”

My stomach dips.There he is, the monster.Not hidden or denied.Simply standing in my apartment beside my chipped kitchen counter, telling me the truth like I asked for it.And I suppose I did.

I should step back.Instead, I ask, “Does it bother you?”

His eyes hold mine.“Not when they deserve it.”

“And when they don’t?”

A muscle ticks in his jaw and the silence tells me more than his answer could.

I turn off the kettle.For a while, neither of us says anything.Then his phone buzzes.Steel checks the screen, and whatever he sees puts the enforcer back in his face.The human piece disappears behind locked doors.

“I have to go.”

Relief and panic hit me at the same time.“Good,” I say too fast.

He heads for the door, then stops with his hand on the knob.“Keep the chain on.Don’t open for anyone you don’t know.If you see that sedan or anything out of place, call me.”

“I won’t need to.”

He looks back at me.Not angry, but certain.“You will.”