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On second thought, no, I don’t care.
“Tell me what you really want and then get lost, you and your judgmental expression.”
I spin at a pace that suits me, making it blatantly clear I’m not intimidated by him or playing by his rules.
It’s my motherfucking show.
The sight of him, smug and entitled, throws me back to the day in his clinic when I confronted him.
How he knew he had the upper hand on me and the women. How heknewunless I had hard evidence, no one would believe any of us and how he thrived on it.
My blood boils to a burning point, and I fist my hands and put them on my hips. It’s either that or punching his throat over and over until his miserable life is drawn out of him.
“Since we’re not playing games…”
“We’re not,” he growls, leaning against the wall. Another futile attempt to appear as if he’s not intimidated when it’s obvious he is. “Out with it so you can fuck right off.”
“Why Prue?” I prowl forward and hold myself back. Three feet separate us, a safe distance so I don’t choke him before I extract every bit of information out of him. “How did you find her and her dad?”
He cackles. He fucking cackles.
And I lose it.
He’s still laughing like a witch when I jump him. My arms bracket him into the tight cage I created, my eyes spitting fire at him.
Now he finally gets it. Now he cowers from me, trying to melt into the wall.
When Prue and I did this dance, a whole other set of emotions raged through me. Lust, love, the need to claim.
Here, with him, the one thing I feel is what wolves must feel before they rip off a buffalo’s head.
A sick sense of satisfaction. The anticipation of tasting blood on my tongue.
“Tell me.”
I don’t yell.
The threat in my voice does the job and opens Jason’s mouth just fine.
“I saw your video. In the coffee shop.” He elaborates when one of my eyebrows kicks up. I thought no one posted it. “Google alerts, Theo. Someone somewhere tagged you.”
Dozens of curse words are on the tip of my tongue. I bite the inside of my cheek, locking down the show of emotion. I don’t have plans to kill Jason, and I refuse to give him any more ammunition on me to use in the future.
“And you figured you’d contact the guy I beat up.” I grab the front of his shirt, yanking him toward me and making him rattle in the process. “The enemy of your enemy?”
“Yes.”
“Louder.” I shake him. “Say it so I can hear it, same as when you bragged about harming those other women.”
“Yes! I hired a detective to find him.” Jason presses his lips together, squinting his eyes, regaining some of his confidence. “That’s what you wanted to hear?”
I hit the wall near his ear, wiping the false bravado off his face. “Then what?”
“He wanted her money; I wanted you to suffer.”
Rage rolls off me in my waves, and Jason has the wits to keep it simple instead of rubbing his so-called brilliant plan in my face.
“He couldn’t afford his detective friend any longer since her money wasn’t guaranteed. I offered to pay for their attempts to dig shit on Prue. The woman you call your girlfriend.”
