Page 206 of The Wright Man

I buried my face in his chest, the scent of cedar and sweat and a trace of cologne hitting me all at once. Maleek smelled like home. Like solid ground. Like I could collapse and he'd hold the weight.

"My stuff..." My voice cracked. "He put all my stuff outside, Maleek."

That got his attention. His eyes finally dropped to mine. I saw the flash of fury then. Not loud or explosive—lethal. The kind that simmered low and deadly, under lock and key until the moment it needed to be unleashed.

His hand came up to my cheek, and he cupped my face in both palms with that kind of careful strength only he had—gentle, but firm. Like the world could be falling apart, but his grip would hold.

"I know," he murmured, pressing his forehead to mine. "I know, Angel. You're okay now. I got you. I'm taking you—and all your shit—home. With me."

Home.

That word broke me open.

The tears came hot and heavy. I couldn't stop them even if I wanted to. And I didn't. I needed to cry. Needed to fall apart now that I finally had somewhere safe to land.

Over his shoulder, Gavin still lingered in the doorway like the festering infection he was, watching us with his arms crossed and that same smug little sneer.

Maleek gently turned my face back toward his. "Don't worry about him," he said. His voice was low. Even. Deadly calm. "Focus on me."

That brought me back. Anchored me.

His hand stroked down the side of my face, thumb brushing my jaw.

"You trust me, Angel?"

I didn't hesitate. "Yes."

He nodded once, satisfied. Proud.

"Then get in the truck."

Panic flared in my chest. "Wait—don't—please don't do anything. I don't want you getting in trouble—"

He silenced me with a kiss. Slow, deep, and devastating. The kind of kiss that knocked my thoughts out of order and sent my toes curling in my sneakers. The kind of kiss that reminded me who the fuck I belonged to—and who the fuck I didn't.

I felt my whole body lean into him, already reaching for more before the kiss even ended.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine. His eyes were fire and storm and everything I didn't have words for. I couldn't speak. Could barely breathe.

He looked me dead in the eye.

"Get in the truck, Angel." Calm. Steady. Final.

There was no arguing with that voice.

I nodded and walked to the passenger side without another word.

Maleek walked back toward the curb and started picking up my things. Piece by piece. Calmly. Methodically. Like it didn't matter how heavy they were. Like he was on autopilot, running a mission he'd trained for.

He never took his eyes off Gavin.

He never acknowledged him. Never raised his voice. Never even cracked his knuckles.

But even when Gavin disappeared into the house and slammed the door, Maleek kept watching. Watching like he could still see him.

Like he was daring him to come back out.

This man—this beautiful, loyal, dangerous man—would've burned the whole house down if I gave him the word. He would've leveled everything Gavin built to the ground and asked me how I wanted the ashes arranged.