Page 75 of Amber Gambler

“I’m making sure you don’t get yourself into the kind of trouble you can’t get out of.” He returned the gun, horrible thing that it was, to the seat beside him. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You see danger, and you run right toward it. You’re an adrenaline junkie.”

“What danger?” I locked my arm down by my side, but my palm itched to slap him. “Little? Ian? They’re kids.”

“That’s not who I mean, and you know it.”

“Ah.” Rage shook me so hard, I was surprised my teeth didn’t rattle. “This is about Kierce.”

“He’s dangerous. You shouldn’t be gallivanting off into the night alone with him.”

“He’s no more dangerous than you are or I am.”

“He’s agod.” He steamrollered my rebuttal. “Don’t split hairs with me, Frankie, he’s not like us.”

“Maybe you’re the one who’s not likeus.”

“You think because you’re a necromancer, and he works for Death, that he’s anything like you? How old are you? Twelve? Are you that desperate to fit in with the cool kids still? You’re not seeing him for what he is, only what you want him to be.”

“And what, pray tell, is he?”

“A killer.”

“Newsflash.” I kicked his tire. “So am I. So are you.”

“He killed my uncle,” he snarled, smacking his palms on the wheel with bruising force.

“No.” I backed away from this person I didn’t know anymore. “You did that all on your own.”

Nuclear bombs had detonated with less force than the blistering glare he leveled on me.

“Donotwalk away from me.” He wrenched open his door. “I’m talking to you.”

“Oh, I heard you,” I tossed over my shoulder. “You just don’t have anything to say worth hearing.”

A strong arm banded across my waist, yanking me stumbling back as a wide hand covered my mouth.

“I’ve given up too much for you, for your safety.” He dragged me, thrashing and kicking, to the Chevelle. “I won’t stand by andwatch you throw it away. Throw yourlifeaway. He’s not worth it.”

Done playing nice, I sank my teeth into the meat of his palm. As I tasted blood, he let go. Though he kept his arm around me. I didn’t care. I had my hands free. I lifted my forearm as I bit down on my bottom lip, flooding my mouth with copper. I spat on my forearm, watching as a black design flowed over my skin in inky tendrils, praying Kierce would sense it. Then I fell back on a lifetime of fighting off predators.

I gripped Harrow’s wrist in one hand, pushing down, while peeling back his thumb with the other.

The shock of pain forced his hold to slip enough I could spin out of it. As soon as I faced him, I kicked him. Hard. Right in the junk. As he bent over to protect his tender bits, I brought my knee up and cracked him in the chin. He toppled backward, a fallen domino, and I restrained myself from a good stomp on his family jewels to drive home the lesson he would never put his hands on me like that again.

A lightning strike cracked the pavement beside Harrow’s head as Kierce prowled over to me.

Prowled. Not appeared. His powers must still be too low for flash.

“Hey,” I exhaled, breathless. “Thanks for coming.”

“You didn’t need me.” He stopped beside me, staring down at Harrow. “You handle yourself well.”

Groaning and rocking, Harrow spat blood onto the asphalt but wisely kept his mouth shut.

“Don’t call me. Don’t come to my job. Don’t show up at my home.”

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