Page 208 of Deceit

He doesn’t want her out of anyone’s sight.

Emmy walks to the elevator and I follow, not that I wasn’t going to whether Ledger silently asked me to or not.

When Emmy pivots to press the button to the bottom floor, she tenses and suits up for me. “What the hell do you want?”

“You didn’t think you’d get to walk around freely, did you?” I press up into the back wall, watching her burrow herself closer to the corner where the buttons are.

She doesn’t respond, resting the side of her forehead along the wooden paneling and sighs.

When we reach the bottom floor, I allow her to step out first and act like her overly-sized shadow.

She doesn’t stop nor bothers to hold the door open for me when she escapes the building. And when she gets to the driver’s side of her Jeep, I pluck the keys out of her hand.

“Give them,” she seizes out, pivoting to snatch them out of my grip.

It’s cute how she thinks her little five-foot-four ass is going to get shit that I barely have to stretch my arm out to keep from her claws.

“I’m driving,” I deadpan.

“You can drive the fuck out of here with your own vehicle, Bish.” Her red-rimmed eyes stand in challenge to mine and she doesn’t move from the door.

In fact, she barricades herself in front of it like I can’t just pick her up and remove her myself.

Yeah, that’s Emmy for you.

No one ever told her that her small stature was a disadvantage at times when she needed some strength to go at someone bigger.

I think someone gave her a little too much confidence in that area and I know it wasn’t me. I liked her the way she was, easily removed or positioned into all sorts of ways.

“Keys,” she instructs, holding out her palm. “Now.”

“Or what?”

Yeah, I should’ve seen it coming.

Emmy is emotional and angry as fuck right now. And after using her mouth to get off then in the middle of it telling her I wanted a divorce because I was pissed, I’m more than likely the last person she wants to see right now.

Her fist slams into my side and a surprised grunt escapes my throat.

That’s what.

“Get in the car, Rhodes,” I leer. “Or I’ll put you in myself.”

A mirthless laugh escapes her lips. “Orwhat?”

I roll my eyes and wrap my arm around her, lifting her off the ground and open the back door.

Tossing her inside like a duffle bag, I close it and hop in the front seat, listening to her continue to bitch and complain.

I quickly get out of the parking lot but don’t even hit the road before Emmy’s forearm wraps around my neck.

“Get out of my car. I’ve had enough of you for the week.”

“Get your arm off me, Emmy, or I’m going to fuck you into learning to keep your hands to your fucking self.”

“And I’m just going to choke you out at twenty miles an hour as to do minimal damage to my car. Followed by the aftermath of the tuck and roll you’ll be doing out of it will only result in some road burn.”

“I’m taking you home.”

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