Page 45 of Boneyard HEA

“I like honesty,” I say flippantly as I sit forward and place the piece of apple on my small plate. “You haven’t given me those clues.”

“Ask me nicely.” Mr. Loxland drinks then carefully places the takeaway cup on the table. The dance of evil is back in his eyes. The sadist.

It’s riveting when he switches to this side of his persona—it makes my heart skip about, adds a glow to the scene, and fucked if I know why it appeals—and yet I still want to be a smart-ass. Maybe because I like making him want to do those ‘things’? There’s a thought.

I clear my throat. “And there is my problem.”

Tomás barely reacts. He’s an observer, the man who says nothing, but does what is necessary. And that includes hiding dead bodies.

“Keep going.” Loxland is now equally still, a tiger watching a mouse.

“Right.” Keep going, yeah? “You nailed the problem I have. This agreement doesn’t make sense.”

“To you? I’m happy with it.”

“Huh. Really? We talked about this over and over, but actually I disagree. Some hot sex is not enough reason for you to risk catastrophe, which makes me simply know I’m also doing this for dumb reasons.”

My heart has sped up, and anxiety constricts my chest. I could’ve simply vanished out the door but no, my need to talk things through with someone I hope is a reasonable man, haha, has got me in its vice. Do I even know what I want?

He waits for me to continue. Dips his forefinger in the froth of the coffee and tastes it.

“I need to get these murderers and I don’t see you helping me enough.”

“Oh?” He narrows his eyes.

The threat lodged there chills me, but in just the right way. I imagine him bringing out that cane. A little daunted, a little turned on—I’m such a weirdo—I continue.

“You don’t gain enough, and so you’re dithering about helping me.” I bop the table with my fist. “Risking a police record for sex? No. Why are you doing this? Prove you’ve got a stake in this that will drive you to help me as much as I need to be helped.”

I don’t expect him to prove it, and yet I want him to.

“Demanding little bitch,” Tomás murmurs.

“She is.” Mr. Loxland shifts on his chair, looks past my shoulder, maybe at the sky. “And what will you do if I can’t?”

“I will walk away.” I shake my head. “I don’t care what you do afterward. Report me, if you want.” Can I run far enough to be free? “This is a dead end, no matter what. I give you sex and obedience, and you somehow find it in your heart to reward me? It’s hollow. I can’t trust you’ll follow through.”

He regards me, expressionless, as if he’s already forgotten who I am. That fucking hurts.

Unshed tears line my eyes, my mouth quivers, and…why am I like this? I don’t need this man.

“You said I don’t gain enough. That’s true.”

What?

“I do risk too much. I thought I was helping you to the best of my ability, but you’re right there too.”

“Fuck.” Tomás turns his head and eyes his friend. “Are you on something I don’t know about?”

“She’s right,” he says.

“Why then?” I blurt out. “Why agree to this deal in the first place? If this goes ass up, you’re dead in the water. You go from carefree kinky billionaire to a man in a cell. I’m not worth it. I’m not getting what I want either. I should walk. Will you tell the cops?” I rise, keeping my fingers splayed on the table for steadiness. “I do still want those two clues. You owe me those after this morning.”

“Do I?” he says, menace in every syllable as he gets up. The chair squeaks as he pushes it backward then he goes behind my chair.

I don’t move, though I watch him, but when he gently gathers my hair at my nape, I still. Here I am again, waiting, reacting to him when I shouldn’t.

Grow a damn backbone.