Page 58 of Root

She just might be.

In some ways.

She’s fucking smart and a survivor—that’s in the things she does—from her walking out of the compound to stealing the bike to dressing like we’ve got an evening planned in some punk palace of sin instead of me moving her somewhere safe.

Girl has an agenda, one I can’t see. Yet. But I feel it, sneaky and full of dark undercurrents, and the outfit is to both pull me in and push me away. That’s fucking fire to me.

Jessie’s everything all at once, and I can’t shake the feeling she came with me a little too easily. That Jess is someone who never takes breaks in her stride. never lets those poison-dipped feathers get ruffled.

After all, she stabbed a guy for me.

Staged fight or not, I don’t think getting stabbed was part of it.

Nikolai’s way more suspicious than me.

I’m not saying she’s pure, I’m saying she’s got reasons.

And she’d probably stab me if she wanted to. At least, she’d attempt to.

“You’re female,” I say, “and you’ve got more traps and mines than a war. I usually prefer peace. But as for type, I don’t know, we might fit. What do you say?”

Her fingers tangle in the cashmere of my sweater as the pop music of the minute bounces from the speakers and most of the good-looking crowd nod along. I pick up my drink. I sip the agave.

“That you’re a maniac.”

I need to cool my jets, so I go back to that damn silver frame. Maybe here she’ll talk a little more. A crowd feels…safe.

“Who was in the photo, Jess?”

“I told you—”

“Who,” I say, putting my drink down and easing her in closer to me, my fingers grazing her lower back, the small swell of her ass, “was it meant to be?”

“Jack, me and our mom.” She looks up. “We didn’t know her, but the story we tell is that’s our happy family. We both have one. And if someone’s gonna do something, it’ll be to that. The other stuff? I keep it hidden. We don’t have anything exposed to the world except the photo in a frame. And Jack—my brother—came up with some signals with the photo to let the other know things, like the tilt or if it’s upside down or face down, or…whatever.

“That was then and this is…this is different. We’re not in the system and Jack’s off with a motorcycle club. But someone hurt the one thing they thought might be important. The only thing that looks of importance.”

“Convoluted.”

She shrugs. “Not if you have nothing and gangs and thugs run rife through the world you inhabit. I told you that they were asking about Rhodes and Wilder, and then you take me and—”

“Who?” I pull her in close, like lovers. “You have to know?”

“I told you before I got stabbed. Rumors.”

“What kind of rumors?”

“Vague ones, or I’d have told you. I don’t want to be on the bad side of Nikolai Wilder.”

My pocket buzzes, and I slide it out and look. “Your place is ready. C’mon, princess of the night.”

With that, I take her hand, hauling her through the crowd and out into the street. I unlock the door and take her into the stairwell, and then I push a button and the elevator dings and opens.

When it dings at the fourth floor, we get out and I usher her into the apartment.

Jess stares. “Exactly how rich are you?”

“Very,” I say with a shrug as she puts her jacket down. She goes to her bag, checks it, and then does a whirlwind tour.

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