Page 6 of It Starts With A No

He hated people touching him, even if it was just his clothes.

He didn’t enjoy having a gun pointed at him either, and he found himself weighing which he hated more.

There should be no need to, because it was clear which was more dangerous. But logic wasn’t quite enough to snap him out of his dilemma. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be the screwed-up mess he was.

The fact that this wasn’t the first time he’d had to consider this particular dilemma grated on him. As he was reminded of that, he wrenched his sleeve out of Clary’s death grip.

That didn’t stop her from reaching out again. “You’re not going anywhere with him,” she said with a slight tug on his arm, trying to pull him back.

Clary Fiore isn’t the danger. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to turn his focus back on their assailant.

But even as he did that, he pulled at his arm, trying to free the jacket sleeve from Clary’s clutch.

This time, she refused to let go.

Her persistence caught the attention of the assailant.

“It’s okay,” Seth said, and the assailant’s gaze snapped back to him. “I—” He peered over, just as Clary took a step forward. What the …

Miss Fiore’s focus was solely on their assailant, while her hand remained tightly gripping his jacket. “Please, we—”

“Get. In. The. Car.” The man jabbed the gun in Seth’s direction again. “Now.”

Seth frowned as Miss Fiore stepped in front of him. His focus shifted entirely to her as confusion swamped him.

Was the assailant as confused as he was?

Seth jerked his arm back. Not because he was trying to get out of her grip this time, but because he was trying to move her away from the gun.

Her hand moved, but she remained stubbornly in front of him.

Did she think the gun was fake?

Was it?

A cool autumn breeze swept by, carrying the man’s repulsive stink toward Seth. This time, though, a hint of light floral freshness from Miss Fiore mitigated the nauseating effect of the smell.

Tucking an escaped lock of onyx-black hair behind her ear, Miss Fiore calmly said, “We’re not going anywhere with you.”

“I just want him, missy.”

Seth stretched his neck to the side.

“He’s not going with you,” she said simply, but the conviction in her tone was clear. It was a fact—her fact. One she wasn’t going to budge on.

One that might just result in her getting a bullet to the head.

Since Miss Fiore clearly had no sense of self-preservation, Seth had no choice but to take on that duty. That was the only way to keep his hands free of her blood. He didn’t need Edward Eolenfeld coming after him because his mistress got hurt.

Especially since he still needed that loan from the old man.

Shifting his arm, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to his side. “He’s—”

“You’re not going anywhere with him,” she whispered, tipping her torso slightly toward him and pressing her arm up against him.

Seth was acutely aware of every inch of contact, acutely aware of how much he wanted to bolt and put some distance between them.

But he couldn’t.

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