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The gun doesn’t waver as I lean closer, daring her to pull the trigger when I know she won’t. Not when she’s so busy staring at my mouth the way I can’t help but stare at hers, remembering the feel of those lips against mine. “Because the Vitali family thinks you are a spy for us, and my family thinks you’re a spy for them.”
She gives her head the tiniest shake. “But you know that’s not true.”
“Because I know you’re a fucking detective, and do you think you would be breathing at this moment if I told my father that? You would already be in the morgue. You owe me your life, Detective Washington.” I chuckle darkly. “You owe me a great many things, and I intend to collect.”
“I don’t owe you anything,” she snaps, but her voice has lost its edge. She’s weakening, and I know why. It’s the reason I’m on the edge myself, almost burning from the desire to kiss her again. She’s fighting it and losing, almost forgetting the gun she’s no longer pressing so hard against my skull.
“I’ve kept you alive,” I remind her before lunging forward, ready to taste her again.
Her head snaps back before I can make contact, eyes narrowed into slits. “And that’s your excuse for stalking me?” she grits out. “Breaking into my apartment, fucking with me all week?”
For a woman on drugs, she’s surprisingly sharp. “Something like that.”
All at once, I grab her wrist and press two fingers against the heel of her hand hard enough to loosen her grip and take the weapon from her. “Narcotics fuck with your reflexes,” I inform her before tucking the Glock 9mm into my waistband along with her service weapon.
“Why don’t you leave me here?” There’s no bravado in her voice anymore. It’s pure resignation. Fatigue. “If you’re going to kill me anyway, do it and get it over with. I would rather die than go anywhere with you.”
And the thing is, when our eyes meet, I see the truth in those blue depths. She means it. She would rather die than leave this apartment with me. All that realization does is stir the resentment and bitterness I’ve battled all week to new life.
I savor her gasp of pain when I pull her to her feet. “You don’t get to decide how this ends. You’re going to learn what happens to people who think they can take what’s mine.” With that, I gather the straps of her tote bag and sling it over my shoulder, then pull her by her wrist from the bedroom into the living room. “Put your coat on. Make it fast. We don’t have much time.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“It’s not your business.”
She punches her fists through her sleeves. “No, of course. It’s not my business where I’m going with you.”
“You can come with me, or you can go to the morgue, Detective… one or the other. It’s your choice,” I offer with a perturbed shrug.
“Some choice,” she snarls. “Why not ask how much shit I want to be piled on my shit sandwich?”
If anything, I prefer her this way. She’s no longer pulling the innocent act the way she did back at the club. This is the real Emilia, thorns and all. A thorn in my fucking side. I need to remember that when she’s blazing and snarling and somehow turning me on.
“You’re wasting time,” I remind her. “Believe me. It would be in your best interest to pick things up.”
“You’re never going to get away with it.” She stands with her back to the door, feet planted as if she’s going to bar the way. “You know that, right? You have to know. My captain and my partner dropped me off here earlier. What are they going to think when I’ve suddenly disappeared? They’re going to search for you.”
“Let them,” I scoff. “Besides. That’s my problem, not yours.”
“You know, I heard you were a real arrogant son of a bitch. I thought you were intelligent, at least.”
I’ve had about enough of this. She barely stifles a gasp when I shove her back against the closed door, caging her in place with an arm on either side of her body. A squirming, struggling body now dangerously close to mine, so close to making me forget the stakes in favor of playing with what I’ve only admired and jerked off to so far.
“Now you listen to me.” I lean in close, my mouth inches from hers, and savor the panicked little breaths that fan across my face when she struggles for air. “I saved your life twice today. It would have been much easier for me to let Vitali kill you, but here I am. As far as I’m concerned, your life belongs to me now, and it would be nice if you showed a little gratitude.”
She tosses her head, glaring at me, but I know better. I feel the way she trembles. I hear the tremor in her voice when she asks, “You want me to thank you for destroying my life?”
“Oh, Detective.” Her brow creases as if she’s pained, telling me she hates when I call her that. “You did that to yourself when you stepped foot in my club. You could have gotten away with it if you hadn’t been stupid enough to enter my office. It’s fairly clear you don’t value your life much as it is. So, don’t give me shit now for saving you for myself. And don’t pretend you have any say over what happens now or what I plan to do to you. We both know better.”
Let her fight it all she wants. She is gripped by terror, the tantalizing aroma oozing from her pores. It does things to me it shouldn’t, making my pulse pick up and my cock twitch again in anticipation. “Like it or not, you owe me a debt, and I’m going to see you pay it. And how you do so is my business.”
Her eyes dart over my face. “What does that mean?”
“You’ll see when the time comes. First things first. Getting you out of here alive before Vitali realizes what happened. Now, are you walking out with me, or am I carrying you with a gag stuffed in your mouth?”
Her eyes narrow, and her nostrils flare. The hate is rolling off her. I’m disappointed but not surprised to find it only makes me want her more. “You’re making a big mistake,” she warns, and her breathing turns erratic when I draw one of her guns from my waistband and drag it over her tits, almost caressing her, before I lean in to brush my lips against her ear.
As tantalizing as it was to watch her while she slept, knowing she couldn’t stop me, this is better. Witnessing fear overtake her no matter how she struggles to hide it. I see her bravado for what it is. A thin veneer meant to conceal her helplessness.
