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“About you having a blade at your throat,” Eddie answered.
I gave up on innocent and tried nonchalant. “Oh, that.”
Nonchalant wasn’t a good call. If Eddie’s eyes were burning into me before, they were scorching now.
“Yes,that,” Eddie growled.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” I told him.
He stared at me for a beat as if antlers just sprouted from my forehead. Then he said a bunch of stuff in rapid-fire Spanish.
I knew a little Spanish, what with having four Mexican ex-boyfriends, and I thought I caught some naughty words, but I couldn’t be sure.
He reverted to English. “You call having a knife at your throat nothing?”
I didn’t answer, thinking maybe silence was the way to go.
Wrong again.
He got closer, and because he was already pretty close, this “closer” was predatory.
“You had a knife to your throat before?”
“Not that I can recall,” I told him.
His black eyes got kind of a scary glitter.
“Would you forget something like that?” he asked.
“Probably not,” I allowed.
He came nearer, and at this point, his body was brushing mine.
“Why didn’t you call the police?” he asked.
“It didn’t seem that big a deal,” I answered.
“Someone holds a knife to your throat, it’s a big deal. You report it to the police.”
Normally, I would agree with him.
“Dammit, Jet, for once, talk to me,” he said, and it certainly wasn’t a request.
I stayed silent. Not being a bitch. Mainly because I didn’t know what to say.
“Do you know Slick?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Vance says he was after your dad,” he continued.
I nodded my head.
“Do you know what this is about?” he went on.
I shook my head again but then I said, “Slick told me Dad owed him something.”
I could tell by the look on Eddie’s face that this was not good news and my heart started beating even faster.
