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“The police? Because of my door.”
“Your door? Well, it is gone, but all your stuff is gone! Where are you?”
I frowned and pulled back to look at the phone. I was talking to the right person, wasn’t I? “What are you talking about?”
“What are you talking about? Your apartment—”
“—there was a bomb on the door—”
“—everything was gone! It was clean—there was a bomb on your door?!”
I was so confused. “Wait. All my stuff is gone?” My throat gagged. I must’ve heard that wrong.
“Yes! That’s why I’ve been calling and calling. Pialto was fed up, and he went to find your cop friend. Jess. He’s terrified of her, but he said he needed answers. Where are you?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? Who’s there with you? And where’s your stuff?”
My head was ringing, again. I was having a bad acid trip of déjà vu. “I’m with—” Shit, shit, shit. I didn’t know if I could tell her or not. Wait. She knew everything else. “I’m with Ashton Walden.”
“Oh, Madre de Dios. What are you doing with him? And again? Though, he is so gorgeous.”
I gripped the phone tighter. “I know, and he shielded me from the bomb.”
“He did?”
“He did.”
We were sighing together.
“I can’t believe there was a bomb.”
“Same,” I quipped.
“You don’t know where you are?”
“I can’t say. I don’t think he want—” The line went dead. I looked at the phone again, checked the cord, made sure it was plugged into the wall, and it was. But the line was just gone.
A hand reached around me, taking the phone from me, and I turned, already gulping because the whole room got chilled. Ashton was glaring at me, his eyes seething and his jaw clenched to where I thought he might’ve been close to grinding his teeth.
I winced, thinking about that.
“Are you goddamn kidding me?”
Yep. He was furious.
“What?”
“What?” His eyes widened a fraction, and he stepped to me, his head coming down. “Are you joking with ‘what’?”
“Uh . . .”
He threw the phone against the floor, breaking it into pieces.
I was gulping again. “You need to tell me what I did wrong if I’m going to answer your question.”
“You called your friend?” Another step my way. His eyes were glittering from his rage. “You told her you were with me? Do you want to die? Did you actually comprehend anything that happened at your apartment?”
I raised a finger, but still using the timid approach, I kept my voice light. “About the apartment. Soph said all my stuff was gone—”
“Fuck the apartment! There was a bomb that could’ve killed you. Why are you not comprehending that?”
“I—I wasn’t sure.”
“About what?” Still snarling from him.
“About the whole protection we have going on here?” I made two circling motions with my hands.
“What the fuck did you think we were doing here?”
“Uh. I wasn’t sure. Think of all the craziness that’s happened to me lately. I’m a little flustered. That’s all. I called my friends. I wasn’t going to tell them where I am. I don’t even know where I am.”
His eyes were back to slits, but he didn’t comment.
“Why are you so upset? I don’t get this.” Okay. I was going on the offense. That felt good. A better plan here. “None of this would’ve happened if you’d just told me what we were doing here.” I poked at his chest, and yeah, that felt good. It felt great. I did it again. “It’s called communication.” Another poke.
I was trying for some intimidation here, so I approached as I poked, but he wasn’t moving.
I tried it again. “I woke up from passing out and you were all like, ‘Here’s my chef. Want an omelet?’ There was nothing about that we’re here for your protection or—”
“You freaked the fuck out about almost being killed, and then bam, you’re talking about appreciating the simple things in life.”
“I mean, yeah. There’s no point in letting the negative weigh you down. It’s evolution. Move on.”
Ashton’s neck and shoulders were getting tighter and tighter, and he started eyeing my neck like he might be considering wrapping his hands around it. Maybe I shouldn’t have been poking him.
I edged back a step, and immediately knew that hadn’t been the right move. A whole different air came through the room, circling us, and I tensed. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I was getting the whole vibe that I was in the room with a predator, a very beautiful and sleek-looking predator, but one that was a killer nonetheless.
What had I been doing? Poking him. Talking back to him. Forgetting he was dangerous, because I wasn’t right now. Ashton was very much glaring at me as if he could snap my neck right now and then just step over my dead body on his way to the bathroom.
