Page 30 of Daring You

“Dammit,” I mutter, then start up the pace again, making sure I’m quiet so he doesn’t hear me trudging along behind him. I don’t glance at the droplets of blood he’s still leaving, like clues to an evil grandma’s gingerbread house.

“I can feel you behind me, you know,” he says without turning.

I adjust my tote, searching through it like I can’t hear him.

At last, we reach the subway entrance, and he descends with lighter, quicker footsteps than expected, his hands shoved in his jacket pockets, but I suppose that’s why he’s the top wide receiver in the nation.

The gate dings when he swipes his Metrocard, and mine follows soon after. I have plans to do a sharp U-turn as soon as I can, but Ben ruins everything when he halts and faces me.

“What?” I say. “It’s not like I can help that we both need this train to get back into Manhattan.”

Something ripples beneath his features, a combination of angst and fury. Though I’m used to him, have been utterly burned by him before, being under this kind of scrutiny makes me want to brace for anything he might sling at me.

“You can’t take this case,” he says.

Now that, more than anything, was the lastthing I thought he’d say. “What case? The Staten Island Slaughters?”

Deep lines crease around his mouth. “Yes. That one.”

“Why not?”

His frown carves deeper. “They look…like bad guys. I don’t want you mixing up with them.”

I guffaw. “Excuse me?”

“It’s dangerous, Astor. Let some other firm handle it.”

It takes me a few seconds, but I’m trying to sort through all the reasons why Ben would even care what my firm is up to. The law bores him. My corporate job puts him to sleep, if he ever decides to think about it. But that would require him thinking about me, and we both know that doesn’t happen.

“I’m just gonna go ahead and say no,” I say carefully.

Ben sets his shoulders, and on him, it’s more like a gladiator readying to enter the arena. “Then I’m going to ensure it doesn’t come to your firm.”

“Oh, yeah?” I cover my confusion with confrontation. “And what makes you think you have any power to do that?”

“I’m famous,” he says offhand. “I can go to the press, side with the family’s survivors, blow this whole case so wide open, Australia will hear about it. I’ll taint the jury pool so bad, you guys won’t have a chance.”

“How do you even know what tainting the jury…” I trail off, shaking my head. “What the hell, Ben? You realize this could make my career? Or—right, I forgot. You don’t give a shit about how well I do. But here’s the thing.” I step forward, so I’m close enough that I have to tip my chin up. “I don’t give a fuck what you want, never mind what you instruct. Go to the press, make this the most public scandal you can, my firm will still take this case.”

His mouth twists, but his eyes…they’re searing into my retinas. “You’re making a huge mistake.”

“Am I?” I ask. “Because before you said anything, I wasn’t about to fight for it. I was going to let Mike have it.”

Lies, lies, complete lies, but I wasn’t about to let Ben stand here and dictate what I can and can’t do. My only option is to ask the supervising attorney to be on the case. There’s no guarantee I’d even be let in.

“So, because I told you no, now you want to do it just to spite me?” Ben asks.

“Consider it an added bonus.”

He peels his lips back. “You are being such a—”

“A what? Bitch? Say it, Ben.”

“I was going to say fool. Don’t do this just to best me.”

I laugh, but it isn’t filled with any mirth. “Typical. Of course you’d think this was entirely about you.”

He lets out a frustrated growl, but there’s no one around to hear us. The MTA worker has long ditched their glass cubicle, and any potential passengers are smart by staying in their warm homes. But I’m not afraid to be alone with Ben. I’m angry.

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