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Kit trembles through sobs. “I-I’m sorry. I d-didn’t mean it. I d-didn’t know it w-wasn’t okay. I want no trouble with the m-mafia.”I don’t correct him. “I didn’t know. I-I was told about it by a m-man who approached me at a b-bar. He said h-he had my back because it l-looked serious between me and Honey. I d-didn’t know she works for the mafia.”
Humor doesn’t even reach my eyes at the assumption that Honey “works” for the mafia. Then again, he saw us together the other day and she said I was her boss. Again, I don’t correct him. It might be better for her safety if he thinks that.
“And what did this man look like?” I question. I already know the answer before he says it.
“I-I-I don’t know. He was wearing shades and a hat. Never said his name. He just told me. I won’t tell anyone,” he promises. “And I’ll never speak to Honey again. Please, man, just let me live.”
Shit. It’s the same fucker who’s been tracking my movements for the last month.
Fuck. He knows about Honey and my association with her.
That’s bad.
Very bad.
Because if anything were to happen to her…
I pull the gun away from Kit’s head, too aware that I’ll probably pull the trigger in hopes it’ll simmer this rage boiling inside me.
My phone buzzes, and I know I’ve received a text message, but I start speaking before dealing with it, “Know that I hear and see everything. If I so much as catch a fucking hint about this, Iwillfindyou. You and your family back in Oklahoma, and even your high school girlfriend.”
His eyes go wide. Of course, I have everything I need to know about him. This chump is a pawn. Minor to the actual problem I have at hand.
If Crue were here, he would shoot him.
Leave no loose ends.
But I also know what it feels like to be a pawn in someone else’s game. To be caught in the crossfire. And I don’t believe people should die for that.
I straighten my suit and take out my phone, surprised to see a text from Honey.
A cold shudder runs through me at her demand.
CHAPTER 30
Honey
Me: I think you should come over.
Iwait for him to reply, and when he doesn’t, I decide it’s time to shower. Once I’m done, I hear knocking on the door. I expect to see my sister on the other side, but Dawson stands there. His expression is dark and ominous, but the moment his gaze roams my body, it changes. That tension he had a moment ago twists into something else. He smirks when he sees me wrapped in only a towel.
“Ready and washed for me just to get you dirty? That’s so kind of you.” He steps inside and shuts the door behind him.
I step back because the way he’s looking at me right now makes me second-guess inviting Dawson over. I feelcomfortable with him, and I’m hoping he can give me a good experience for my second time having sex and show me that it doesn’t have to hurt. Don’t get me wrong, it was good the first time until it stung. And, boy, did it sting.
But the second time isn’t supposed to sting as bad, is it? I hope not.
“Will it hurt?” I ask.
He leans against the counter, his knuckles going white as if he’s fighting with himself. He knew what I insinuated by him coming over, right? Again, I’m suddenly unsure if he wants this too.
“Look, if you don’t want to, that’s fine. I can’t with this back-and-forth thing,” I admit.
“I’m not good for you, Honey,” he says. But his gaze devours me, and I have the impression that his tight grip on my kitchen counter is the only thing holding him back.
I’m so sick of people telling me that, so I cross my arms in defiance. “I just wanted to tell you, I don’t want you to kill Kit.”
His face scrunches, and it’s so different from the usual mask I see him wear. The charm, the desire, the put-together man. The danger coils so tightly beneath, and I can’t help but wonder if anyone else ever sees it.
