Page 75 of One Step After Another

“Access. You have access. To me. The thing you’ve been chasing for years. A ghost you couldn’t catch but saw around every corner. I gave you what you wanted, and you’re mad about it?”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Ask me when I joke, Luca.”

Man.

This female was something else.

Penny gave him one last look—it burned more than he wanted to admit—before she headed for the closet again. The next time she reappeared, she was punching her arms through a too-large T-shirt with a faded logo across the chest that barely covered the black cotton panties stretched over her pert ass.

Of course, his cock noticed those things.

Why wouldn’t it?

It wasn’t the fucking time.

“So, this is it?” he demanded.

Penny didn’t reply.

He was getting really tired of that shit, too. Her silence. The lack of cooperation. He was fine and good to follow along like a puppy at her bidding but that was it. Any plans that related to her or that fucking place back in the desert were off the table entirely.

“Is this it, Penny? I can be here, but I can’t help or know what’s going on ... or do anything even remotely useful because—”

His words cut off when an item flew past his head with blinding speed. He didn’t need to turn to see where the knife had embedded itself into the wood of the doorway. The corner of his eye provided that view just fine. She had picked that knife up and threw it with such precision that there had been no hesitation between her first move and the last. If she had meant for that blade to be buried in his chest, then that’s exactly where it would have landed.

No lie, he swallowed a little bit harder in those few seconds when her gaze met his.

“Remember,” she said, each word after a warning that he heard loud and clear, “you are here because I allowed it. That doesn’t mean I owe you anything during or after.”

He hit a nerve.

That much was clear.

But which one?

Luca searched for the reason, wracking his brain but all he could come up with was ... “Because I suggested I might be able to help? Or that you won’t let me help.”

“Just drop it.”

“Penny, come on.”

What was her aversion to talking?

It drove him crazy.

“Did you get those knives out just to throw one at me?”

“No, I wanted this one to peel the wax off the wine I’ve been saving.” She didn’t give him the chance to push the topic before she headed right for him, stopping at his side only long enough to yank the knife from the doorframe. The tip of the blade teased far too close to his chin when she said, “And now I need a damn drink, but I doubt the wine is going to be enough.”

“Penny—”

“Drop it.”

“I didn’t mean that you needed my help.”

Wasn’t that obvious?