Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 44899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 224(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 224(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Darby stared at me for a long moment, something complicated happening behind those sharp eyes. “Why?” she finally asked, her voice quieter than I’d ever heard it.
“You know why.” I took a sip of my whiskey, letting the burn ground me. “Not just about that night, though that was the best fuckin’ night of my life. It’s about you. The way you looked at me the last time. Right before we slept. Like maybe you wanted me to make you want to stay.”
She looked away, her fingers around the glass Mike sat in front of her. “You read too much into things.”
“Do I?” I reached out slowly, giving her time to pull away, and turned her face gently toward the light. The bruise was worse up close, a violent purplish-red spreading across her cheekbone. My jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth might crack. “This happen because you ran, or because you stopped running?”
Her eyes met mine, defiant but with something vulnerable lurking beneath. “Both? Neither?” She shrugged like it was no big deal, but her voice had a slight tremor to it I was sure she wanted to hide. “Life’s complicated.”
“So uncomplicate it. Talk to me.”
She laughed, a bitter sound that held no humor. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. And ain’t that a Goddamned cheesy-ass line.”
“Try me.” I let my hand drop from her face but stayed close enough that our shoulders nearly touched. “Prison time means I get it.”
“You think a few years inside makes you an expert on the real monsters out there?”
“No. But it taught me how to spot someone who’s running scared.” I kept my voice low, just for her ears. “And whatever tough act you’re putting on right now, you’re scared. I can see it.”
She tensed beside me, her knuckles whitening around her glass. For a moment, I thought she might bolt, or worse, shut down completely. Instead, she drained her whiskey and set the glass down with deliberate care.
“Maybe I am,” she admitted, so quietly I almost missed it over the music. “Doesn’t change anything.”
“It changes everything. Because I’m willing to go through this with you. I’ll take care of whatever you’re up against.”
She looked at me then, really looked at me, her eyes searching mine for something. Sincerity, maybe? Whatever she found made her shoulders drop a fraction of an inch.
“You don’t even know what you’re offering, Sully.” She accepted the fresh drink and some ice wrapped in a cloth from Mike, nodding her thanks. She winced slightly as she pressed the ice pack to her cheek. “You don’t know what kind of trouble follows me.”
“I will if you tell me.”
She sighed, running a finger along the edge of her glass. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.” A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, pulling at her split lip. She winced, then dabbed at it with a napkin. “Fine. Short version? I pissed off some very bad people by existing, and they’d prefer I didn’t. The bruises?” She gestured vaguely at her face. “Just a friendly reminder of what happens when they catch up with me.”
The casual way she said it, like being hunted was just another Tuesday, made something in my chest constrict painfully. “And the long version?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but her eyes suddenly fixed on something over my shoulder, her body going rigid with tension. The smirk vanished, replaced by a coldness I hadn’t seen before.
“Looks like you’re about to get it,” she said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Because my trouble just walked through the door.”
I spun around to follow Darby’s gaze just as the door slammed open. Six men pushed inside, scanning the crowd with purpose. The bulges beneath their jackets told me they were armed. One of them zeroed in on Darby and alerted the others. The leader, a tall man with a jagged scar across his throat, pointed directly at her and the pack began to move as one toward us.
“Shit,” Darby muttered under her breath. Her hand disappeared into her jacket, emerging with a set of brass knuckles she slipped on with practiced ease.
I didn’t think, just moved. In one fluid motion, I positioned myself between Darby and the approaching men. I heard the scrape of a bar stool behind me as Darby stood, felt her heat at my back. I thought I saw Knight moving toward us but didn’t want to take my focus from the six guys in front of us.
“You don’t have to do this, Sully,” she said, her voice low and urgent. “This isn’t your fight.”
“It is now,” I replied, not taking my eyes off the approaching threat.
A shadow materialized at Darby’s other side. I was right. Knight, his tattooed face impassive, had put himself in a position to defend Darby’s other side.