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“When am I going to get another chance?” I ask, annoyed at myself for the pleading tone.
“Did you know he’d be here?”
“I guessed.”
“You’re crazier than I am. You really are going to get killed.”
“Those are Malcolm’s car keys. He might have something in his glove box or maybe in the trunk, something I can use.”
“Like a tire iron? Or maybe a gun? If you think Malcolm Strafford keeps important papers in his fucking car, you’re insane.”
I glare at him, arms crossed. I realize he might have a point but I’m not about to admit it. “What else should I do then?”
“I already gave you a viable option.”
“Work for you?” I shake my head. “I thought about it. No thanks. Now please, give me those keys back.”
He hesitates, frowning at them before closing his hand and making a fist. “No.”
“I stole them. I want them back.”
“Where’d you learn to pick pockets like that? It was pretty good.”
“Nowhere. Give me the keys.”
“Come work for me.”
“No.” I leap forward and grab at his hand. He grunts and shoves me back, slamming me into the wall. I gasp in surprise as he follows forward and pins me there, grabbing my wrists, and slamming a knee up between my legs. I groan in shock as he holds me there, his hands like manacles on my wrist, his thigh dangerously close to the heat growing in my core.
“You have a death wish. No, not a death wish. You’re actively suicidal. I can’t think of another reason why you’d keep on doing the things you’re doing.”
I grind my teeth. “I have no other choice. You got me fired, remember?”
“I saved your ass.”
“You saved your own ass. Remember, you were digging through his papers, too. I could’ve convinced him I was dropping off his mail. You had no excuse but me.”
His head tilts, considering, and he bites his full lip. I imagine that lip against mine, and I hate the shiver that runs down my spine. Why do I like that this asshole has me shoved against a wall right now like he owns me? And why do I want his knee to move up, just a little bit?
“You’re not wrong,” he says, his lips brushing against my throat. The keys in his hand dig against my skin and I grunt as pleasure and pain war through my body. I want to kick him in the shin and I want to bite his lip, and I don’t know which I’ll do. “But I keep saying we can help each other. You can get what you want if you help me get what I need.”
“And what do you need?”
“I want to make Malcolm Strafford leave this city.”
I tighten my jaw and raise my chin. “And I want to make Malcolm Strafford leave this life.”
His eyes widen a touch. “That’s it then? You want to kill him?”
“Among other things. I’d like to see him suffer first.”
“What did he do to you?”
“Nothing.” I stare away, down at the floor. I’m not about to spill my secrets to this asshole thug.
“Interesting reason to kill someone.” His grip loosens, but he doesn’t pull away. “How about this for a deal? I go return these keys before Benedict realizes you stole them and you get to leave this hotel alive. Does that work for you?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I want them.”
