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He whips around, and I stumble into his hefty chest. “Do you ever shut up?”
My eyes widen. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You and your yapping.”
“I’m not yapping.” I am. It’s my thing. I get nervous and yap. And yap. And— “Okay, I’m yapping, but you’re scary and intimidating, and are you going to kill me?”
A line forms between his brows as he frowns. “Say what?”
“Are. You. Going. To. Kill—” I yelp as he drags me off the sidewalk into the alley, shoving me against the brick wall.
“Would you shut your mouth? What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snaps.
“Wrong with me? You’re the one who just dragged me out of my office like a caveman claiming his prize, which was unnecessary, by the way. And God knows where you’re taking me now. I have a feeling it’s not to grab a sub and a milkshake.”
He leans into me, eyeing my lips. “You’re right about one thing.”
“A nice Italian sub and chocolate shake sounds too good to be true?” I ask, hoping it’s not the latter and I’m going to be some fish’s lunch.
He shakes his head.
“Darn.” My voice vibrates with nerves. He’s so close, and I can’t deny how extremely attractive he is. Last night in a tuxedo, he was handsome. In a pair of fitted jeans, and snug black shirt, he’s breathtaking. Total bad boy type. In a James Bond kind of way. I bet he ravishes women just with the sound of his voice—
“You’re mumbling again.”
“Huh?”
“You’re mumbling. Clearly, you haven’t figured out how to think in silence.” He pushes off me, the absence of his body allowing the city wind to skate along my skin. “I’m not here to kill you.”
Phew!
“But I fucking should.”
Not phew.
“What the fuck were you doing pretending to be Francesca Vaughn?”
“I told you, I was there to get a story.”
He thrusts his hand through his hair. “Well, you got one all right.”
I’m glad we’re on the same page! I push off the wall toward him. “I know! And if you can just fill in some of the blanks, I can—”
“You’re not writing shit.”
“Yes, I am! It’s my job. I can’t pretend I never saw—”
Irritation crackles from his dark eyes as he eliminates the space between us. “You’re not.”
“I am.” Take that. I’m not scared of him. If he thinks he’s going to intimidate me with his good looks and deep, gravelly voice, he’s—
“You write that story, you die.”
Or not. I could probably just stick to the socialite caught doing cocaine story.
“You fucked up. You have no idea who you just got involved with.”
“Fine. Then un-involve me. Let’s break up. There. I’m just going to go back to work—”
Logan grabs my bicep, pulling me into him. “Breaking up is the last thing we’re doing, sweetheart. Wanna know why?” Not particularly. “Because your smart mouth caught the attention of my boss. And he is no one to mess with. He also doesn’t take no for an answer.” Just the mention of his boss gives me chills. Eyes seeping evil. A mob king who eats the souls of his enemies for dinner.
“Why can’t you tell him we broke up?”
“Like I said last night, you vanishing like that looks suspicious. And you know what happens when Vincent feels like there’s a loose end out there?”
Crap, I hate trick questions. “He ties them up?”
Logan grunts, squeezing his eyes shut. When he reopens them, I’m met by his gaze brimming with anger. “No, Addy. He makes them disappear.”
“Oh…” I answer, his meaning starting to make more sense.
“Yeah, oh. That means we’re fucking stuck together until I can figure out a way to unstick you.” I open my mouth to offer a suggestion, but he raises his finger to lock my lips shut. “You’re going to do everything I say. If you don’t, we’re both as good as fucking dead.”
Sudden dread washes over me. “I don’t want to die.”
“Good. So you’ll fucking listen. We need to get some shit straight. Likes and dislikes. If we’re ever together and he tries to drill you, which he will, we’ll need something to go off of.”
“Well, I love movies and puzzles and reading. Oh—and I love pizza and Chinese and cats—”
“Jesus, not now. Let’s go back to your place. Text your work. Tell them you’re taking a leave of absence.”
“Leave of absence! I can’t do that. I need my job. Especially after you cost me three months’ worth of rent!”
“Fine, then quit. Collect unemployment.”
I scoff. “What? No! I love my job!”
“Well, I’m sure you love your life more, even though I’m starting to wonder. Let’s go.” He doesn’t give me a chance for rebuttal and grabs my arm, pulling us back onto the busy sidewalk. He walks us up to a shiny black muscle car and opens the passenger side. “Get in.” I’m about to refuse when he pushes me in, then slams the door and jogs around to the driver’s side. I squeal as he peels into traffic like a bat out of hell, weaving in and out of cars.
