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The news goes off. I sit through a round of commercials before the nagging feeling in my gut becomes unbearable. It’s not until I push up from the sofa and go to place my mug in the sink that I realize why. Euan and I are both considered victims of foul play, and if I pop back up alive, I will look guilty. This screws everything up, and I have no doubt that Jude is responsible.
Anger settles over me as I make my way downstairs and through the haze of smoke into Jude’s office. I lean against the doorframe, watching him scribble something across a notepad. “All right, partner,” he says, hanging up the phone, then turning to look at me.
“Did you kill Euan?”
“Yes.” So nonchalant, without an ounce of hesitation. Like I just asked if he wanted pizza for dinner. His jaw tics as he reaches for his cigarette resting on the edge of the ashtray. “Why the fuck do you care?”
“Why wouldn’t I care, Jude?”
“Did you love him?” There’s something to the way he asks that question that sounds angry, possibly jealous, and I hate that I like it, almost as much as I hate that it’s hard to answer.
At some point, I must have loved Euan. Although when I think back to my relationship with him, I realize it lacked the rawness, the rush I always thought I should feel around someone I considered spending my life with. Euan was nowhere near as exhilarating to me as Jude, but isn’t that the line between love and lust?
“Did you love him, Tor?”
“I don’t know...”
A stream of smoke seeps through Jude’s lips, his hard gaze pinning me in place. “He doesn’t deserve to matter.”
He doesn’t to matter, not really. Euan stopped mattering the second he handed me over to Rich. But the fact that Jude doesn’t think killing Euan is something worth mentioning... “You killed my ex-boyfriend, Jude. It’s kind of a big deal.”
“It’s just a life.”
I’m not sure if I’m disturbed by that statement or not. Just a life. Like how my life was just a life that’s now as much a smoldering heap as my fake corpse. The corpse they think Euan killed... “You know I can never go back now without being suspected of his murder.”
He stubs out his cigarette then shoves out of his chair, a wave of anger crashing over his face. “Stop making everything about yourself. It wasn’t just your life that was upended when you were dragged through that goddamn door? I’ve killed two people because of you. ”
Oh, this bastard. “Are you kidding me? You killed those people because you’re a criminal, Jude! This is your life. This is what you bring on yourself with your illegal shit—”
“And I tried to give you a normal life, but Sarah Jones wasn’t good enough for you.”
He really thinks some random ID is going to make up for my entire identity, my purpose? I don’t even know what I pick up from the sideboard and launch at him, but it’s heavy. I miss him by a good foot, hitting the wall. That’s all it takes to get him moving toward me.
My back hits the wall with a thud as his fingers clamp around my throat. “That temper of yours is really going to get you in trouble.”
I want nothing more than to slap him right now, but even through my rage, I know he’s too mad to test. “Get your hands off me.” I attempt to wriggle free of his hold.
“Oh, now you want my hands off of you? What is it, Tor? Are you trying to respect the dead?” His lips hit my throat before the rake of his teeth does. “Because when you thought he was alive, you sure as fuck wanted my hands all over you—in you.”
He trails a hand over my stomach to the waist of my shorts, his fingers fumbling with the button. I should put a stop to it, but I’m frozen between anger and the raging lust his lips incite. “I told you I only get my hands dirty when it’s personal.” Teeth sink into my neck on a groan as he rips open the fly, then sinks his hand in my pants, setting every inch of my body on fire. “And this is fucking personal.”
Everything about this has always been personal. From the dead bodies to the way he holds me every night. Jude and I are a ticking bomb, and he’s about to pull the pin—I’m going to let him.
His fingers slip inside me, and all rational thought flees like smoke on the wind.
“You’re never getting your life back, Tor.” Then his lips slam over mine, hard and angry like a rogue wave crashing onto the shore. He’s brutal and unforgiving, in a way I didn’t even know I needed.
