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But that was hard when this tiny whirlwind, who kicked doors, thought she was blinded by her own eyes, and sassed him just about every moment she could, fucking lived here.
“If you want to wait in the car, I’ll go up and get Roger and Snuggly,” she told him, reaching for the door handle.
He turned to give her an incredulous look.
In what universe was that ever going to happen?
“You’re not going in there.”
“But . . . I know where they are. I’ll be quick.”
“You’re not stepping foot in this neighborhood ever again.”
He could hear how he sounded.
Possessive and furious.
But he couldn’t take it back. Didn’t even want to.
She gave him a wary look—about fucking time. This girl wasn’t nearly wary enough of him.
And if he needed proof of her lack of self-preservation, it was right here.
In this fucking neighborhood.
Alejandro clenched and unclenched his hands.
“Are you all right?” she asked. “You’ve got that strange look on your face again. Oh, maybe we should have asked Aaron to check your blood pressure. He could have gotten you some pills, right? He looked like he would have given you anything you wanted, no questions asked.”
He clenched his teeth together. “I don’t need to get any pills. And I didn’t have a problem with my blood pressure before I met you!”
“Well, that seems a bit rude, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t.”
She huffed out a breath. “I need to go get Snuggly and Roger. That’s why we’re here. So why can’t I leave the car?”
“Because this is one of the worst neighborhoods in the city. You live in fucking Brownsville!”
“It’s not so bad.”
“There’s a drug deal happening right in front of us.”
“There is?” She peered through the front window screen. He could see how tense Cairn was, even though he wasn’t saying a word. Even The Scot was silent for once.
Why the fuck hadn’t he asked her where she lived before now? Fuck, he hadn’t seen an address in the information that Martin had on her.
“Oh, that’s just Pete,” she said, raising her hand at the shifty guy buying drugs.
Was she kidding him right now? She was going to wave?
He grabbed her hand, tugging it down even though the windows were tinted and no one could see her. Still, didn’t she realize that he was on a knife’s edge? And that waving at that weaselly fucker could be the thing to send him spiraling?
“What’s wrong? He’s not a bad guy. He needs the drugs for his glaucoma, it’s so painful for him.”
Dear. Fucking. Lord.
It was far worse than he’d realized. Her naivety was mind-boggling. She couldn’t seriously believe the garbage that just came out of her mouth, right?
“That little shit doesn’t have a glaucoma problem,” he told her. “He’s a fucking addict. Look at how twitchy he is.”
“You don’t know his medical history. And he’s that way because of his time in the armed services.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.” He was getting a headache. “Right now, there are probably several jerks standing in that alley over there, trying to work out if they try to carjack us now or once we get out of the car.” He nodded to the alley across from them.
“Oh shoot. I didn’t think about your car. Yeah, you really can’t leave it alone in this neighborhood.”
“You just said that this neighborhood is safe!” he reminded her. She didn’t even know what she was saying, she kept contradicting herself.
“For me. Not for you.”
“That is so ridiculous. I don’t even know what to say in reply.”
It was safe for her and not him? He had a whole foot in height and at least eighty pounds on her. Not to mention he was armed and knew how to protect himself.
This girl couldn’t even stop herself from kicking a damn door. Leave her alone for a few hours and she starved and hurt herself. He glanced down at her bandaged fingers and the ice pack that he’d insisted she place on her toe during the drive.
Safe for her.
Devil save him.
“Leave.” It was directed at The Scot and Cairn. “Not you.” He grasped hold of her hand as she reached for her door handle.
The Scot and Cairn both climbed out of the car and stood outside with their backs to them, keeping an eye on their surroundings.
They’d make it clear to anyone watching that the people in the car weren’t to be messed with.
“That was rude,” she muttered. “You could have said please.”
“No, I couldn’t have.” She said some truly ridiculous things. “Look at me, Cat.”
She flicked her gaze to his, then away.
“Stay looking at me,” he commanded.
“You’re a hard man to look at,” she complained. “Your eyes change with your moods. They go this dark chocolate when you’re serious. And then they’re kind of gingerbread-colored when you’re amused.”
Dear God.
“And what about when I’m angry?”
“Then they’re more burnt caramel.”
