Page 48 of Promiscuous Lies

He blinks once and then twice. He glances down at the man who’s barely moving and then takes two long strides toward me. One hand cups my cheek, and his other hand rests on my hip. “Did he hurt you?”

I’m shocked by the concern in his voice. It’s so different from his usually controlled and clipped tone. I’m shaking my head before I can speak.

“No, he didn’t touch me.”

“Good. Get in your car and drive back to Manhattan. I’ll clean up here.” He goes to pull away from me, but I grab his hand.

“No, you can’t kill him. You don’t understand the repercussions.”

“Oh, I understand the repercussions,” he says savagely. “I’m going to make an example out of him.”

“Please, Dutton.” I bring his hand back to cup my cheek as if that might be the only way to stop him. To anchor him. I’m not one to beg; the adrenaline is running so high right now that I don’t even know what I’m doing or saying. All I know is we must leave in case someone else is watching. “Please. Leave this as it is.”

“What are you even doing here?” he whispers accusingly. I flinch at his tone and take a step back. Then I really look at him for the first time since he miraculously arrived. He’s wearing leathers. When I glance at my car, I notice a motorcycle that might be his parked behind it.

“Did you follow me here?” I ask.

“Yes. And had I not, who knows what might’ve happened,” he all but growls. He’s bleeding across the cheek from where my keys cut him.

“What the fuck?” I shove him back. “Are you out of your fucking mind? How did you even know I was here?”

His expression darkens, and I can sense his ice wall erecting between us once more, pissing me off. All the fear, adrenaline,and emotional shock of the day spills over. I shove him. “Are you fucking kidding me?! You don’t want to answer me when you stalked me all the way here?” I shove him again, and he barely budges.

“You should be thanking me,” he grits out.

I scoff. “Thank you? For tracking me? How are you any different from the asshole on the ground over there?”

“First of all, I’m not on the ground with a broken face,” he says pointedly.

Smack. His head swings to the left as I slap him across the face. He grinds his jaw, and I’m sure he most likely could’ve stopped me. “Oh, you’ll release that temper on me,Mostriciattola, but not the asshole you were just so fearfully running away from?”

“Stop calling me that!” I growl. I don’t know whatmostriciattolameans, but whatever it is, I don’t like the way he can use it on me while we’re fuckingandwhen I’m losing my shit at him.

“What are you scared of? Or who are you so scared of?” he asks pointedly.

I turn to walk away, but he grabs my wrist. “Let go of me,” I grit out with so much rage that I’m unsure what I might do if he doesn’t. As if sensing my anger, he lets go of my wrist.

“We’re not done here,” he says, but I’m already striding quickly toward the car.

“I swear to God, if you kill that man, I’m quitting right now. I mean it,” I tell him over my shoulder. Because if Dutton does kill him, the motorcycle club will hunt him down by any means necessary. And I refuse to draw close attention to my place of work or myself because that would lead them to Bentley.

It was a mistake coming here today.

I get into my car, slam the door, and scream as I pound the steering wheel.

I thought six years would’ve been enough to escape Bobbi’s reach, but I feel no less trapped now, knowing he’s still looming over me in some way. I’d become too comfortable, and letting my emotions bring me back here was a mistake. And I hate Bobbi for having this power over me when there’s nothing I can fucking do about his influence in these parts.

All I can do is run again and make sure to keep my son safe.

No matter the cost.

I take a breath and push my hair back, trying my hardest to rein in the trapped fire that’s spilling out from my seams. I start the engine. I hate Dutton for tracking me, but a small part of me is glad he was here. I’m mortified to know he saw that fearful expression on my face as my demons caught up to me.

But I’m not going to stay to confront them.

No, there are some things that are best left in the past.

And I’ll face the new ice monster when I get home because that motherfucker has a lot of explaining to do.

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