to twist me around.
I step out of his embrace. “Don’t,” I say.
He actually looks bewildered. Hurt. He’s good, I’ll give him that. “What?”
“I feel safer with Ricco than I do with you. At least I can trust him.”
Heat flares in his eyes, and a muscle ticks furiously in his jaw. “Jesus, Kylie. That’s fucking crazy. You know that, right? You’re not safe with him. Don’t believe for a minute that you are.”
Maybe not, but it doesn’t matter. The deal I’ve just struck, the money the DEA has agreed to pay me, is life-changing. Literally. I can go to grad school, help my mom with the bills, make sure Jess and Dally are taken care of. The danger isn’t relevant. You don’t offer someone from my neighborhood ten thousand a month and expect them to turn it down. Just ask Ronnie.
“You don’t have to pretend anymore, Beckett. Don’t twist this around. There’s nothing between us. This is a job, and I’m being paid. Let’s leave it at that.”
“There’s nothing between us? Is that what you think?” He gives a hoarse laugh, drags a hand through his hair. “Kylie, you know me—“
“No, I don’t. I don’t know you, and you sure as hell don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m capable of.”
My statement hangs in the air. We both recognize the awful truth in it. He has no idea what I’m capable of doing when it comes to protecting the people I love. I have no idea what drives him, but I sense it has to do with something that happened in his family. Bottom line, we are both protectors—as fierce as tigers when someone we care about is threatened. That is the one thing that unites us both.
His eyes lock on mine. In a voice as rough as gravel, he says, “It will kill me if something happens to you.”
Now that’s funny. He doesn’t want me hurt. Is that why he lured me into this? I push the thought away. No. I refuse to play victim. I understand what’s happening. Nobody’s forcing me to do this. All the choices from here on out—the good and the bad—are my own. I take full responsibility for my actions.
A horn honks outside and I glance out the window. A yellow taxi sits idling at the curb. “My ride’s here,” I say.
“Kylie—“
“Don’t.”
I stride past him, but Beckett’s not ready to let me go. He catches my arm and pulls me back into his embrace. “I don’t believe you,” he says. “I don’t believe you don’t care. I don’t believe my touch means nothing to you.”
His breath fans my neck and I shudder. Something I can’t name—longing, fear, desire?—races down my spine like the peal of a thousand tiny bells. My fingernails dig into his shoulders as my body betrays me, revealing every wretched emotion I’d tried so hard to hide. I want him so badly I ache.
Beckett feels it. He reads me like the proverbial book. A smile curves his lips as he strokes his fingers along my cheek. Satisfaction burns in his beautiful blue eyes. “What? No kiss good-bye?”
I jerk out of his grasp, turn and walk away. I pause at the door and shoot him a final glare. “I think you know what you can kiss.”
* * *
A formally attired doorman ushers me into the Fairmont Hotel. I glance around the lobby, gaining a vague impression of thick velvet drapes, crystal chandeliers, fine patterned carpets, lush foliage. Everything rich and expensive. I’m so terrified I actually feel nauseous. I try to smile, but I don’t think it’s working. It just feels like my face is cracking.
Somehow I force myself to move forward. I don’t take drugs, but I imagine this is what the world would look like if I did. My vision blurs around the edges. Some of the hotel staff seem to be moving at double speed, others are moving in slow motion.
Then I spot Ricco. He is dressed immaculately, expensively. His shoes are shined to a mirror finish. His ebony hair is slicked back and a designer suit drapes his body, hugging his long, lean form. He is darkly attractive, and yet
I step out of his embrace. “Don’t,” I say.
He actually looks bewildered. Hurt. He’s good, I’ll give him that. “What?”
“I feel safer with Ricco than I do with you. At least I can trust him.”
Heat flares in his eyes, and a muscle ticks furiously in his jaw. “Jesus, Kylie. That’s fucking crazy. You know that, right? You’re not safe with him. Don’t believe for a minute that you are.”
Maybe not, but it doesn’t matter. The deal I’ve just struck, the money the DEA has agreed to pay me, is life-changing. Literally. I can go to grad school, help my mom with the bills, make sure Jess and Dally are taken care of. The danger isn’t relevant. You don’t offer someone from my neighborhood ten thousand a month and expect them to turn it down. Just ask Ronnie.
“You don’t have to pretend anymore, Beckett. Don’t twist this around. There’s nothing between us. This is a job, and I’m being paid. Let’s leave it at that.”
“There’s nothing between us? Is that what you think?” He gives a hoarse laugh, drags a hand through his hair. “Kylie, you know me—“
“No, I don’t. I don’t know you, and you sure as hell don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m capable of.”
My statement hangs in the air. We both recognize the awful truth in it. He has no idea what I’m capable of doing when it comes to protecting the people I love. I have no idea what drives him, but I sense it has to do with something that happened in his family. Bottom line, we are both protectors—as fierce as tigers when someone we care about is threatened. That is the one thing that unites us both.
His eyes lock on mine. In a voice as rough as gravel, he says, “It will kill me if something happens to you.”
Now that’s funny. He doesn’t want me hurt. Is that why he lured me into this? I push the thought away. No. I refuse to play victim. I understand what’s happening. Nobody’s forcing me to do this. All the choices from here on out—the good and the bad—are my own. I take full responsibility for my actions.
A horn honks outside and I glance out the window. A yellow taxi sits idling at the curb. “My ride’s here,” I say.
“Kylie—“
“Don’t.”
I stride past him, but Beckett’s not ready to let me go. He catches my arm and pulls me back into his embrace. “I don’t believe you,” he says. “I don’t believe you don’t care. I don’t believe my touch means nothing to you.”
His breath fans my neck and I shudder. Something I can’t name—longing, fear, desire?—races down my spine like the peal of a thousand tiny bells. My fingernails dig into his shoulders as my body betrays me, revealing every wretched emotion I’d tried so hard to hide. I want him so badly I ache.
Beckett feels it. He reads me like the proverbial book. A smile curves his lips as he strokes his fingers along my cheek. Satisfaction burns in his beautiful blue eyes. “What? No kiss good-bye?”
I jerk out of his grasp, turn and walk away. I pause at the door and shoot him a final glare. “I think you know what you can kiss.”
* * *
A formally attired doorman ushers me into the Fairmont Hotel. I glance around the lobby, gaining a vague impression of thick velvet drapes, crystal chandeliers, fine patterned carpets, lush foliage. Everything rich and expensive. I’m so terrified I actually feel nauseous. I try to smile, but I don’t think it’s working. It just feels like my face is cracking.
Somehow I force myself to move forward. I don’t take drugs, but I imagine this is what the world would look like if I did. My vision blurs around the edges. Some of the hotel staff seem to be moving at double speed, others are moving in slow motion.
Then I spot Ricco. He is dressed immaculately, expensively. His shoes are shined to a mirror finish. His ebony hair is slicked back and a designer suit drapes his body, hugging his long, lean form. He is darkly attractive, and yet
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