Page 23 of A Fine Line

I glance in the direction she’s focused on and notice one of Anton’s men looking back at her uneasily, so I elbow Darius to get his attention and tilt my head back at her so he’ll see what I see. I don’t have to say anything further; Dare and Nettie quickly catch on, and Nettie silently moves over to Anton, laughing animatedly, so as to draw attention away from us. She leans in close to Anton’s ear, and whatever she says to him is close enough for Erik to overhear because he silently moves around the room until he’s standing closer to the staring man.

I take a few steps toward Carolina, keeping my expression neutral as I extend my hand out to her and say, “Come. I got you.”

She blinks a few times, her eyes meeting mine as I close the distance between us and grab onto her hand. She squeezes my hand so tightly that the bones grind together, and I pull her body in close to mine, my anger increasing as she trembles against me. I lean closer, pressing my face against her ear, as I ask, “Is he on the first list or the second?”

She presses her face into my neck, her voice breaking as she whispers, “Both. He’s one of the ones who was listed as deceased.”

That pressure in my chest is back, but this time, it’s fueled by white-hot fury. I move to pull away from her, but her hand on my shirt stops me, and I turn back to her as she says, “You can’t kill him. He might know something.”

I grind my teeth together, knowing she’s right, even as I curse the fact. “Good. He deserves the hard way.”

She doesn’t say anything in response, and this time when I pull away, she lets me. We walk across the room together, but she stops when we reach Nettie, and I keep moving toward Erik, waving to him as if we’re old friends and we’re about to catch up on old times.

But then, as soon as I’m within arm’s reach of that fucking cocksucker, my arm snaps out, and within seconds, he’s on his back on the floor with one of my hands wrapped around his throat and my free hand pummeling him repeatedly in the face.

“Did you touch her?” I hiss the words through my clenched teeth, spittle spraying over him as I don’t wait for him to answer. I hit him again, then grit out, “Did you put your hands on her without her permission?” I hit him again and then again, shouting now, “Did you think that you could touch what’s mine and fucking live?”

I haven’t given him a chance to reply, even if he was capable of speaking through my hand choking him to death. Blood splatters everywhere, all over my hands, arms, face, and chest, but all I see is pitch-black as the pressure in my chest expands to the point that I feel it may render me in half.

Hands grab me, pull me, and then Dare’s voice is in my ear, yelling. I gasp for air, my right hand suddenly throbbing, and as I blink, I see that goddamn piece of shit lying motionless on the ground with Anton and Erik kneeling over him. I take a step toward the motionless motherfucker, but Dare’s hold on me tightens, and he yanks me back and then pushes me a few feet away. I try to step forward again, determined to make sure he’s dead, but a sharp sting against my cheek snaps me out of it, and Dare is right in my face. “Enough. That’s enough.”

I stand in front of him, staring into his glowing eyes as I take a few deep breaths, my body trembling with adrenaline. I swallow a few times until the lump in my throat eases, and then ask, “What the fuck was that?”

He laughs humorlessly and shakes his head. “If you don’t fucking know, I’m not gonna be the one to tell you, but that will be the first and last time that fucking happens on this mission.” He gives me a pointed look until I nod in agreement and then adds, “Just think back on all the times that you had to treat me as a loose cannon and use it.”

Loose cannon? He just called me a fucking loose cannon. I’m not a loose fucking canon. Tony fucking Andersen is never a loose fucking cannon.

Nettie laughs, indicating my inner rantings were verbalized, and I look around at the other people in the room and the ones who aren’t tending to the motionless man on the floor are staring at me curiously.

Dare doesn’t say anything further, so I look at him, and he points across the room to what appears to be a lounge area. I don’t say anything, just give a small nod, and then turn and walk away, where I fall heavily into a chair. I lean forward with my forearms resting on my thighs, my head hanging as I stare at the floor between my feet and watch the blood drip rhythmically from my busted knuckles.

I recall every instance where I had to treat Dare like a loose cannon when it came to Nettie. I’ve had to smack him down on more than one occasion, one time even going so far as busting his nose, so him relating this incident to the unhinged Beast is saying more than I’m prepared to confront right now.

Soft footsteps approach, and then a gentle hand grips the back of my neck firmly. I don’t look up, and she doesn’t say anything when I reach my hand up, pressing it against the back of hers and pushing it more firmly into my neck.

The fury eases in my chest, only to be replaced by a burning pressure that I’m starting to recognize as something purely Carolina. I grit my teeth together for a moment and attempt to push it down, to kick it out, to reach for that agonizing fury like a lifeline to my old self.

But then her hand squeezes my neck again, the heat of her leaning closer, and she whispers against my ear, “Thank you.”

And just like that, I let the warmth in.

Chapter Nine

Carolina

I’mnotsurewhatI expected when I first saw Tony Andersen standing in the hallway, waiting for me, but it sure as fuck wasn’t this crazed animal who doesn’t actively try to hurt me. Maybe it’s the fact I’ve never had anyone defend me, ever, under any circumstances, but to witness someone revered for being methodical and controlled at all times go completely unhinged in defense of me.

I’m not sure I even have words.

It would’ve been a setback if he’d actually killed the man, but I wouldn’t have been sorry. And while I do feel that Tony has a deep need to avenge the wrongs done to me, I can’t help but think there must be something else that fuels his rage.

While everyone focuses on reviving the beaten man, I lead Tony into one of the restrooms in search of a first aid kit. I find one in the cabinet beside the sink, and I work on fixing up his busted knuckles. He doesn’t so much as flinch, but I feel his eyes on me, watching me intently until, finally, I ask, “Do I have mud on my face or something?”

He doesn’t say anything, but he makes a weird choking noise, so I up look at him. He has a rather comically pained expression on his face, his lips pressed together so tightly they’re white, and I reach my hand up to grab his cheeks between my fingers and thumb and squeeze until his jaw loosens. He growls at me, shaking his head so I release him. Then I ask, “What is it, Tony? Spit it out.”

His eyes widen, the look of him a bit wild as he whispers, “I don’t fucking know.”

I smirk, looking back down at his knuckles and getting back to work. “Well, that was clear.”

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