Page 14 of Keep Me

She’s already consuming my days with this fucking job, and now she’s invading the only space free from her. Soon she’ll worm her way into my veins and take up unwanted residency in my bloodstream.

With the way she keeps sending me daggers over Dr. Romero’s shoulder as he waves a flashlight in front of her eyes, you’d think I’m the one who set the car bomb, not the one who saved her.

Romero walks to the end of the table where he has his first aid kit, and I get an unfettered view of Reggie’s glare. “You know, for a doctor, you make a pretty terrible patient.”

She crosses her legs where she’s perched on the end of my dining table. “No one’s ever complained about my bedside manner before.”

“Well, your patients are usually dead.” I can’t stand the snarky entitlement in the way she rolls her eyes. I take two quick strides to stand right in front of her, so close she has to crane her neck to meet my eyes. “Why do you have to be so fucking difficult?” I snarl, and if I expected her to cower at my threatening tone, I’d be disappointed.

She juts out her chin and steels her gaze. “Because I don’t fucking trust you. Everything was fine until you showed up. Now, someone’s sending me severed body parts and trying to blow me up.”

“That’s why I’m here, protecting your ungrateful ass!” Goddamn, she makes me want to rip my hair out.

“For all I know, you’re the one that sent that tongue!” She jumps off the table and jabs a finger into my sternum. Dr. Romero keeps his head down, searching for something I’m sure he already found, pretending like he doesn’t hear us.

I resist the urge to bend her finger back until it snaps. Something tells me that's the exact reaction she wants from me. Instead, I bite my lip and take a heavy breath through my nose. “You can make this as difficult as you want, but your father hired me to do a job. I’m gonna do it either way. So, how about you make both of our lives a whole lot easier and stop digging in your heels at every turn?”

She stares up at me, the dark in her eyes smoldering like hot coals as she takes in what I said. I can tell she’s the type of person who doesn’t like being backed into a corner. But tough shit. If she stopped being an ungrateful brat for two seconds, she'd realize I'm in her corner too. I sigh and try to soften my features, hoping easing mine will cool her attitude. “I don’t like you anymore than you like me, but if we’re gonna be a team—”

“We’re not a team.”

I clench and unclench my fist before continuing. “Fine. Reluctant partners.” She nods with a shrug of approval with this new definition of our current shit show. I keep my eyes on her as I say, “Dr. Romero.”

“Yes, sir?”

Her gaze is magnetized to mine, one fine eyebrow arching in question of what I’m going to do next. It’s subtle, but clear. Are you going to fuck up again so quickly?

“Leave.” I sense rather than see her shiver at my commanding tone. It’s a ripple in the air between us.

Romero doesn’t say another word, just silently packs up and leaves. The whole time, I never break eye contact with Reggie. I absorb every speck of gold and amber highlighting her dark irises. I try to understand the complex depth of emotion in them. How they can be closed off and shuttered but still a deep, dark well.

And why do I see my own reflection in the murky water at the bottom?

Chapter 9

Dogs

Reggie

After Roan’s people swept the entire parking garage and my apartment for any other bombs, he finally drove me home. He offered to let me stay at his place, but I can’t think of anything I’d hate more than living with the man.

He says he “saved” me from the car bomb, but technically he showed up a little too late. If I hadn’t forgotten my bags, I would have been barbecue. My skin goes cold as I finally admit to myself how close I was to dying. If it wasn’t for those fucking bags...the thought makes my stomach roll. I shake my head, clearing my thoughts and returning to Roan’s supposed hero moment. The way I see it, his brief moment of gallantry doesn’t do much to make up for all his rudeness and creepy stalking.

He wants to talk about teamwork, but really he’s just protecting his payday, not me.

We park on the street below and have to make our way up to my apartment on the fifth floor through the lobby. I continue a petty quest to not hold a single door open for Roan. If I’m lucky, he might even get locked out, or maybe the elevator doors will cut him in half.

We get to my unit, and I unlock the door. I am about to sigh in relief, ready to be done with this day and done with him, but he barges in behind me.

“What are you doing?” I snap at him.

“Clearing the place,” he says as he walks down the hallway toward my bedroom, gun drawn and at his side.

“Didn’t your men just finish doing that?”

He answers with an unintelligible grunt, but the tension in my chest relaxes knowing he’ll be leaving once he’s done.

But once he’s done, he falls onto my couch like he fucking owns the place, dropping something on the floor I only just now realized is his overnight bag.

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