Page 18 of Emerald Malice

She shrinks back immediately, gawking in disbelief at the offending hand as though it acted without her permission.

“That was a foolish choice, Ms. Boone,” I rasp. Panic drains the color from her face. “The last person who laid a hand on me is rotting in an unmarked grave.”

Her green eyes go wide. “Y-you’re just trying to scare me…”

“Care to test that theory?”

“Not really, no.” She shudders. “I don’t want any trouble, okay? I just wanna go home.”

“You should have thought about that before you decided to crash my party.”

“I wasn’t even aware—” She breaks off, biting her bottom lip to hold back the rest of her explanation. “Listen, tonight was just one big misunderstanding. If you let me go, I promise you won’t ever have to see my face again.”

Now, why would I agree to that? That pretty little face has so much to offer.

“I might let you go… if you answer a few questions for me.”

She pulls down the t-shirt as if she can miraculously make it reach her knees. “You can’t do this! This is kidnapping! And… and… Look, you can’t keep me here against my will.”

“I think you’ll find the only will that matters here is mine.” I walk back to the couch. “Take a seat.”

“I’d rather stand.”

Shrugging, I sit down right in front of her purse and phone. She clocks them right away and makes a grab for them.

I slide her belongings closer to me. “Not so fast. You want your things? You’ll have to earn them back.” I point at the couch with my switchblade. “Sit, Ms. Boone. I won’t ask you again.”

She falls heavily into the armchair across from me. The t-shirt rides all the way up, revealing a seductive stretch of inner thigh before she crosses her legs.

“What do you want to know?” She’s trying to come off as confident and commanding, but she’s failing miserably. I see the signs everywhere—her quivering hands, her wobbly lip, the side-to-side darting of her eyes.

“When did you first meet my brother?”

“I don’t know. Just… around.”

I sigh and start to stand like that ends that. “If you’re uninterested in your freedom, then I’ll just leave you?—”

“Neon Moon!” she blurts. “We met at Neon Moon.”

Fuck me. That shithole is one of the places Nikolai used as a meat market for his “merchandise,” his sick way of referring to the women and children he’d sell to his equally sick clientele before I put an end to that business.

Maybe Natalia and her friend are working for Nikolai after all.

“You go there often?”

“I don’t go there at all, if I can help it,” she spits. “I was forced there one night by my pushy-as-hell best friend because she wanted me to meet the guy she was dating.”

She crosses her hands over her chest, causing the t-shirt to ride up even higher. Is she still wearing underwear or has that gone the same way as her dress?

“If she’d just listened to me back then when I told her what I thought of Viktor—” There’s no mistaking the disgust when she says his name. “—which is that he seemed like a rich, arrogant, narcissistic asshole, I wouldn’t be in this mess right now. No offense.”

I can’t help but laugh. “None taken. You really hit the nail on the head with my brother.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a pretty good judge of character. Except, apparently, with you.”

“Is that right?” I fold one ankle over the opposite knee and lean back in my seat. “Go on; don’t let me stop you. Tell me what you really think of me.”

“I thought you were kinda nice when I first met you. Cold and arrogant, sure, but still the kind of guy who’d walk a girl to her door in the middle of the night or… or… offer her a handkerchief when she was sweating…” Those green eyes flicker to me. “Clearly, I was wrong. You’re not a nice guy. You’re a bully and an asshole. Just like your brother.”

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