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Cash
It’snotthefirsttime I’ve had a gun to my head, and I can tell she—Harlow—is more scared than I am.1A given, since I’m not scared at all. Her hand under mine is trembling, and all I want to do in this moment—and for the rest of my fucking life—is to take that tremble away. Chase away her boogeymen, slay her monsters, settle all her fears.
Except right now, I’m her biggest one.
If putting a bullet in my head would ease her pain, I’d do it myself. Without hesitation. But it won’t, because I’m not her killer. A killer? Sure. But not the one she’s hunting.
“Would you believe me if I told you I’m being framed?” Her blue eyes flash, trying so hard to put on a show of strength and conviction, but it is only flickering. I bet this is the first time she’s ever held a gun, let alone pointed one at someone.
“Why would somebody frame you? I’m sure there’s no shortage of crimes that you’ve actually committed.”
“Revenge, retribution, money, to start a war…But that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that you believe me. I’m assuming you’re the one who gave the police the description of my tattoo, correct?” She nods, and I’m pleased by the slowing of her anxious breathing. “Alright, so you must know then that my alibi for the time of the murder checked out—”
And just like that, she fires back up, frustration turning her cheeks pink. “You’re some Mafia boss—”
“Hey, I’m Irish, not fucking Italian—”
“Interrupt me again, and I swear to God, I will put this bullet in your head.” I bite back my smirk and wonder if kissing her right now would count as interrupting. “Regardless, I’m sure coming up with a fake alibi wouldn’t be hard for someone like you. I bet half the force is in your pocket already.” She huffs indignantly, and I don’t think now is the best time to tell her it’s closer to three-quarters—and that’s not including all the other branches of government.
“You’re right.” She blinks twice like she can’t believe what I just admitted. “I’ve successfully created and used more false alibis than I can count. But I promise you, this one can’t be faked. I can show you if you’d like?”
Her nostrils flare like she’s trying to decipher if this is somehow a trick. “You can keep the gun until you’re convinced.”
“Fine.” She bites the corner of her lip in an attempt to look tough, but only succeeds in making my dick harder.
I lower the gun to the middle of my sternum, her hand still under mine. I keep my eyes locked on hers—soaking in their stunning depths—as I eject the magazine and set it on the counter. I want her to feel safe, but I don’t want her to hurt herself, and less bullets means there's less of a chance for that to happen.
“There’s still a bullet in the chamber, so if you do decide to kill me, don’t miss.” I flick a small switch on the side. “And you’ll want the safety turned off.”
I wink, and she grumbles.
I walk past her with my hands raised and let her follow me to the chair with my laptop. She keeps the gun pointed at me as I sit down. She stands behind me to see what I’m pulling up on the computer screen.
I open YouTube and typeJune Harbor Pirates Kiss Cam.
I scroll until I find the video I’m looking for. “Check the time and game stats,” I say before pressing play. I don’t watch the screen, I watch her. I know what she’s going to see, and I want to see the look on her face when she watches the end-of-game kiss cam zoom in on me.
I know the moment the video shows me kissing a tall brunette in a Pirates jersey because Harlow’s jaw clenches, and it makes heat prick low in my stomach.She doesn’t like seeing me kiss someone else.Wicked satisfaction flares in my chest.
Good. I don’t want to be kissing someone else.
“So you see, you can call me a liar all you want, but there are about forty thousand people who can tell you different.” She draws her lips into a tight line and her brows knit together. She’s fucking adorable when she’s frustrated.
“I thought you’d be happy to know you’re not fucking your friend’s killer.” I stand to look her eye to eye.
“We’renotfucking.” She flushes and tries to sound affronted, but I catch the slight waver to her voice, the hint of lust she’s so desperately trying to hide.
“Oh, but we will be,a chuisle.” It’s not a threat. It’s a promise. I trail the back of my hand against the heated skin of her cheek. “We’re endgame, baby, and if you don’t see that, you better put that bullet in my head right now because I’m gonna ruin all other men for you when I worship every inch of your body.”
Her mouth opens and shuts several times before she finally says, “Who is she?”
“You jealous?” The prick of heat in my stomach has expanded to a full-blown inferno, and every cell in my body is itching to touch her, fuck her, make her realize she has no reason to be jealous ever again.
“No,” she spits, and I laugh.
“Come on now, you should know better than to lie to me.” I glide my hand down her jaw to the slope of her neck.
“I’m not lying.” Her resistance to accept what she’s truly feeling has blood rushing to my cock. The more she fights it, the more explosive it will be when she finally gives in. She can lie to herself, tell herself that our kiss was just a ploy, but I know better. She was fucking ravenous, and I was all too happy to offer up a feast.
