Page 29 of Lucky's Trouble

Even though I’m just wearing a simple pair of jeans and a tee shirt, he’s right. I didn’t bring a purse, and he would’ve noticed a cell in my back pocket—not only because I caught him looking as I walked into his parents’ house but also because his hands have been all over me.

“Guess not.”

He reaches into his saddlebag, producing his cell phone. “Here. Take this one.”

I narrow my eyes. “I can’t take your phone. What good would that do?”

“It’s a burner. My number is the only one programmed in.”

He holds the phone in his hand between us, but I can’t take it. Someone could find it, and by someone, I mean Neal. A cell phone he knows nothing about would mean I’m keeping secrets, and Neal doesn’t do secrets.

“You gonna take it?”

“It’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?” His tone is challenging, like he’s daring me to expose the level of shit I’m in.

“I can’t do this with you, Lucky. I don’t have room in my life for whatever you think is happening,” I say. He takes two steps closer, and I’m quick to back up, not missing the hurt in his eyes as I do so.

“I don’t think shit. I know. And you do, too.” He thrusts the phone in my direction but makes no other move toward me. “Just take it. You don’t want to use it? Fine, but give yourself the option.”

Not seeing another way out of this without exposing too much, I take it and quickly shove it in my bra. Thankfully, it’s not a smartphone, just a thin little Nokia, so it’s small enough to get swallowed up by my breasts.

“See ya around, Lucky.” I turn to speedwalk down the alley.

“Not if I see you first,” he calls out. It sounds more like a warning than a casual, flirty goodbye, but I don’t have time to worry about his meaning. My mind has already jumped to what’s ahead.

By the time I reach the end of the alley, I barely register the sound of his engine as it leaves the neighborhood. That’s a lie because the further from me he gets, the more I miss him. Which is stupid.

I skirt my way through the small apartment complex where all Neal’s employees live. Not just his girls but his goons, too. The violent threats he spews on a daily basis aren’t enough to calm his paranoia; he has to have eyes on us, watching our every move. Which is how I’m certain I’m fucked.

Pulling the mail key from my pocket, I stop at the metal box and check for mail, though I know I only get junk mail here. Looking as nonchalant as possible, I pull the postcard advertisements from the box before locking it.

That’s right. Nothing to see here. Just out for a little walk to check the mail.

I climb the steps to my studio apartment, not seeing anyone or anything out of the ordinary. Inside, the lights are out, and the blackout curtains are drawn, just the way I left them. It’s not unusual, considering I usually sleep until right around this time every day.

Setting my mail key and the junk mail down on the counter, I finally allow myself to relax. All this paranoia for no reason at all.

“Did you have a good day?” a deep voice asks.

I jump, my heart climbing into my throat. I squint as I look into my combined living room and bedroom. There, sitting on the loveseat that’s pressed against the foot of my bed, is a shadowy figure.

Fuck.

“What are you doing sitting in the dark?” I ask, moving to the window and pulling open the curtains.

“Waiting for you.” There’s no malice in his tone, but that means nothing.

“Oh. I didn’t know you were coming by, or I wouldn’t have taken such a long walk.” I try to keep the tremble from my voice, but I don’t know if I succeed.

“That’s strange. I got a phone call earlier alerting me that one of my girls took off with a member of the Sons of Erebus. That wasn’t you?” He stands, folding his arms across his chest. By looks alone, Neal isn’t an imposing man. But rage and a bad attitude go a long way.

“No. Like I said, I was just out for a walk.” Needing an excuse to put distance between us, I step into my kitchen and pull a bottle of water out from my fridge.

I haven’t even closed the fridge when he’s on me, gripping my hair at my nape and yanking back hard. Pain erupts from my scalp, and there’s no doubt I’ll have a bald spot after this.

“Neal!” I cry out.

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