Page 15 of When Lies Unfold

“No?” That cocky tone pisses me off, and I buck my hips, attempting to knock him off-balance to free myself from his body’s confinement, but it’s no use.

When he adds more pressure to my hand, my damaged flesh can’t sustain the pain and my eyes water. The knife slides from my fingers, dropping to the kitchen counter. A loud, agonized protest rushes past my lips, and I despise that sound of weakness.

He goes eerily still while an uncanny hint of awareness edges into his features. As if gauging my reaction, he presses the pad of his thumb into the scarred area of my palm. I suck in a sharp breath before mashing my mouth shut.

He releases the pressure on my hand but still maintains his hold. “What happened.” He doesn’t pose this as a question so much as a demand.

Forging past the discomfort, I push each word out from between clenched teeth, still struggling to break free from the restrictive weight of his body. “Fuck. You.”

One edge of his mouth tips up while his gaze turns glacial. “Mm, that wouldn’t be such a hardship.”

He presses his hips against me, yet I somehow know this man isn’t the type to force himself on a woman.

It doesn’t make this situation any more bearable, however.

“Let me go!”

One dark brow lifts. “Not gonna do that when you’re misbehavin’ like you are.” A smirk takes hold of his lips. “Think I might like you better like this.”

“I wish you had been the one who died last night!”

He gives an exaggerated frown. “You don’t mean that. You’re just sayin’ that ’cause I made you spill your mornin’ coffee.”

I attempt to free my left hand from his hold, but he doesn’t relinquish it. When I take a swing at his face with my other, he swiftly jerks me around with far too much ease and presses my front against the counter.

With his fingers still encircling the front of my throat and his unrelenting hold on my left hand, he’s now pinned my other arm between my body and the counter, the hard edge digging into my flesh.

“You’re gonna learn not to fuck with me.” He rasps this against the shell of my ear. “I’m not like your cop boyfriend, Nando.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I lash out.

“Mm. But he wants to be.” His rumbled words skitter over me. “Think he’d be mad if he knew I had you like this?”

It’s as though he abruptly switches gears because his voice drops an octave lower, possessing a lethal edge. “You’re gonna learn to answer me, one way or another?—”

His words cut off, and I freeze with trepidation, wondering what caused it. When his warm breath dances across the back of my neck, every fiber of my being goes wrought with tension.

“You got a thing for scarlet macaws, too, huh?”

I silently beg him not to inspect my tattoo too closely nor examine it in depth. That will only lead to more questions I’m unwilling to answer. This is a perfect example of why I normally keep my hair covering the nape of my neck.

Of course, I hadn’t planned on a visit from this asshole first thing in the morning when I’d messily tied it up.

With his hand still wrapped around my throat, his thumb languidly sweeps along the outermost edges of the macaw’s spread wings.

I’m rendered frozen in place. The tiny hairs along my arms stand on end while I silently plead for him not to trace his fingers over its entirety, that he doesn’t study the inked artwork too closely.

“Beautiful.” His single word emerges as a husky whisper and a foreign sensation spills over me, electrifying every nerve ending.

A heavy beat of silence hangs between us before I muster the ability to speak. “Why are you here?” Noxious anxiety makes my whispered words sound ragged. “I didn’t say a word to anyone.”

His thumb pauses in mid-stroke of the tattooed wing. “I’m here ’cause, like I told you, I don’t like loose ends.” I part my lips to protest when his barely audible words curl around me. “Had to come and check on my liability.”

His hand flexes around my throat. “Gonna give you another chance to answer my questions. You play nice and I’ll let you live. You don’t and, well…you know what happens. Understood?”

I swallow hard, his palm restricting much of the movement. “Understood.”

“What happened to your hand?”

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