Page 47 of Manacled Hearts

“Yes,” I answer.

“I’ll give you enough to make you escape, but not enough to go for good.” I should admire his business skills. He’s trying to keep his clients alive.

“Okay.

“Sixty, please.”

I scramble to get the money out of my pocket and clumsily pull out three bills. I hand them over to him at the same time he pulls out a couple of little baggies from his pocket.

The air shifts behind me just as the tips of my fingers touch the clear plastic.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

The blood freezes in my veins all at once at the sound of that voice.

Shit, I’m screwed.

CHAPTER 10

EVELYN

I think I turned to stone, because even my lungs have stopped working. I’m not even sure my heart is beating anymore.

“Answer the fucking question.”

A shiver explodes beneath my sternum, and it shakes me out of my stupor as I fully register just who stands behind me.

The dealer’s hand snaps back into his pocket and something past apprehension strains his features as he takes in Finnigan.

“Move along, man,” the dealer answers, yet it seems like the wrong thing for him to say.

A shadow looms over me, and that shiver that was running rabid through my nerves, now reaches my feet. I start to move when his stern voice stops me dead in my tracks.

“I’m not talking to you, asshole,” Finnigan warns as he steps to my right. “You’re not doing what I think you are. Right, Evelyn? You’re not buying drugs, because that would be fucking ridiculous. Even stupid.”

“Did you follow me here? That’s seriously screwed up, Finnigan. Am I under surveillance?”

Or is he stalking me? How long has this been going?

“Answer me.” His tone lowers just as his head does, the blue of his eyes turning to ice, “Are you buying drugs?”

“It’s none of your business,” I answer, but my voice comes out much shakier than it sounded in my head.

“Everything to do with you is my goddamn business!” he roars, and I flinch.

It’s not the tone drawing the reaction, but the underlying implication of his words. In the slight widening of his eyes that lasted less than a blink I can see that his words surprise him too.

From my periphery I notice the dealer attempts a step away from us.

“I didn’t say you could leave, motherfucker.” In one swift move, Finnigan’s arm is extended and at the end of it, right in my eyesight, a gun with a silencer attached is aimed at the man.

I take a step back, but don’t dare another when those icy eyes pin me in place. This is a different Finnigan Hennessey than the one who brought me flowers. Different from the one who pinned me against the wall after I slapped him. This Finnigan is made of malice and rage. Even with the soft curls of his hair brushing over his ears, his preppy, pretty boy look has dissipated into an abyss brimming with dangerous power.

Yet, this display is not what shocks me the most—the tingles blooming out of nowhere deep into my lower belly do. They’re running wild, chasing a thrill straight to parts of my body that should not react to this aggression. But they do… and I’m forced even stiller, because there is no way I will cross my arms over my breasts or move my legs closer together. I fear I’ll give myself away. Though I fear rubbing against those sensitive parts more.

“What did she buy from you?” Finnigan asks the dealer.

“Like the lady said, it’s none of your business,” he answers.

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