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“Razor,” I whisper. At least, that’s what I mean to do, except his name escapes in a breathy moan. I press closer, eager to feel more of him against me. He’s so hot and hard everywhere, like he was forged from tempered steel.
The sheriff clears his throat.
“Stop dry-humping your girl, fucker,” Bender says, amusement in his voice. “We’ve got important shit to discuss.”
My cheeks flame with embarrassment. I try to step away from Razor, but he growls and tightens his hold on me, refusing to let me go.
“Fuck off,” he mutters to Bender with casual familiarity.
Bender doesn’t take offense. He just laughs.
“He’s right. We do have important shit to discuss,” the sheriff says.
Razor huffs a curse and then presses his lips to my temple before reluctantly prying himself off me. He turns me to face Bender and the sheriff, keeping me positioned in front of him. “Adalynn, this is my brother-in-law, Dillon Armstrong,” he says, nodding at the sheriff. “And you already know this fucker.”
“Hi,” I mumble, lifting my hand in an awkward wave.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Bender says. “You doing okay?”
“Yes. No.” I shrug helplessly. “Someone is following me, and they left a dead rose at my apartment. I’m creeped out.”
The three of them exchange a tense glance.
“What?” I ask.
Sheriff Armstrong glances at Razor, who grits his teeth like he doesn’t want to tell me what’s going on. But this is my life and my safety. I have a right to know what’s happening.
“Tell me,” I demand. “Whatever it is, I should know.”
“Fuck,” Razor growls, shoving a hand through his hair. “The fucker left a note.”
“Oh.” I swallow. “Um, what did it say?”
“Nothing you need to know about.”
“Razor.”
He growls wordlessly.
“I have a right to know,” I argue. “I’m the one he’s following around. I’m the one whose privacy he’s invading. If he left a note, I want to know what it said.”
“She should know,” Sheriff Armstrong agrees.
Razor scowls at him.
“I’d tell Jules,” he says simply.
“Fuck.” Razor tips his head down to me. “The note said that you belong to him and no one else.” His hand drifts along the side of my face, murder in his eyes. “He was at the bar last night, Adalynn. He saw us together and is trying to scare you into isolating yourself, but that isn’t fucking happening. You’re mine, and I protect what belongs to me.”
“Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath. It’s not as bad as I expected, honestly. I thought he was threatening to unalive me or something. I mean, don’t get me wrong, none of this is good. It’s terrifying and invasive as hell. But I can deal with this.
I grew up bouncing from foster home to foster home. My sisters and I were often separated out of necessity. Not many people were willing to take on five little girls at once. We didn't have stability. For months at a time, we didn't even have each other. But I survived that without falling apart. I’ll survive this, too. No creep is going to run me out of town or change the trajectory of my life because he feels entitled to something I’m not willing to give him. This is my life, and I decide what happens to me.
I don’t belong to him. I never will. He doesn’t get to threaten me or try to scare me into a relationship with him. No way. Even if Razor weren’t here, hell would freeze over before I meekly accepted that.
“Okay?” Razor’s gaze scans across my face, trying to get a read on my expression. The worried lights in his eyes fill me with warmth. He’s the exact opposite of this creep in every single way. He may be a caveman, but he’s shown me nothing but respect and regard in the last twenty-four hours. That matters to me. It matters a lot.
“Okay,” I confirm. “I’m scared, but I’m not going to fall apart. I can handle this.” It’s not like I have a choice, anyway. This isn’t going away if I bury my head in the sand. It’s ironic. I left Dallas to get away from the craziness of city life, not to be thrust right back into the middle of it.
