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Kyle comes out of the building right as we reach the entrance, his gym bag tossed over his shoulder, and he stops dead when he sees me. His eyes move to Clay, and he does the thing men do when they size someone up. “Kayla,” he says carefully. “What is this?”

“This is a friendly conversation,” Clay says, and his voice is anything but friendly. “About Jess.”

Kyle’s expression shifts. “I don’t know what she said, but . . .”

“You told her Kayla was stalking you,” Clay says. “That she cheated and was harassing you.” He tilts his head slightly. “Funny thing is, Kayla has every message you sent her and every missed call. Jess scrolled through all of it. What I would like to know is which part of the story you want to stand behind.”

Kyle says nothing as his gym bag slides off his shoulder.

“That’s what I thought.” Clay takes one step closer, and his voice drops further. “You are going to call off whatever you have going on with Jess. Today.” He lets that sit for a second. “And you don’t go near Kayla again. Not the bar. Or her street. Not anywhere she might be.”

Kyle looks at me, the way he has always done when he wants me to feel sorry for him after he lies. “Is this your new boyfriend?”

I open my mouth, but Clay speaks first.

“She isn’t my girlfriend.” One more step and Kyle is now pressed against the wall of his building with nowhere to go. Clay’s voice is almost pleasant. “But she’s mine. And you don’t want to know what I do to men who look at what’s mine the way you are looking at her right now—like she owes you something. She doesn’t owe you a single fucking thing.”

Kyle laughs, though it’s filled with nerves. “That doesn’t even make . . .”

Clay hits him once, and Kyle folds, going down beside his gym bag.

Clay crouches to his level. “Jess. Kayla. Both of them. You are done. Nod if you understand me.”

Kyle nods, and Clay stands. Then he straightens his jacket and turns back to me like nothing happened. He jerks his head toward the car and starts walking.

I fall into step beside him. “She isn’t my girlfriend, she’s mine,” I say back to him in a voice that sounds like him. “You know that makes no sense.”

“Makes sense to me.”

“You can’t claim someone and then tell someone they aren’t your girlfriend in the same breath.”

“I just did.”

He unlocks the car, and I stand there staring at it for a second, wondering how we went from tearing at each other’s throats to whatever this is, but then I get in. Clay starts the engine and pulls onto the street, and we drive in silence for a few minutes before he speaks. “What time does your shift end tonight?”

“Why?”

He doesn’t answer, simply drives with one hand on the wheel and his elbow on the windowsill.

I turn back to face the road and realize these are the most words Clay has ever said to me that weren’t intended to make me feel unwelcome. I have absolutely no idea what to do with that.

Chapter Fourteen

Clay

I want to smack Ares in the head for the way Kayla was creeping out of his room. I didn’t ask her what went on; it’s not my business, not that she would have told me anyway. But once we reached the diner, I thought of a way to make her feel better—watching me punch her ex. I know it would have made me feel better if the roles had been reversed.

After I dropped Kayla off at her house, I went back to the island to check on the Vesper situation. I collected Brawley since I needed him at my side because the psycho bitch is feral, and he is the only person she responds to without biting. Last night, she injured a man she was chasing and then lost it when he tried to role-play. I didn’t ask for too many details because I only care that we don’t let her brand of crazy loose to do too much damage.

I spend the rest of the afternoon doing the job I’m actually paid to do, checking the cameras and walking the perimeter to make sure no one is trying to hide anywhere they shouldn’t. By the time I get home, everyone else is already back.

Brawley is at the table eating, and Vero sits beside him. Ares is leaning against the wall, and all three look at me as I walk inside. I drop my keys on the counter and glare at Ares. “What did you do to Kayla?”

As the question bursts out, I know I should have left it alone. But it has been eating at me all day, and I refuse to acknowledge why.

Ares glances over at me. “Nothing she didn’t consent to.”

“That is not what I asked, and you know it.”