Page 116 of Traitor

He breathes deep, his mask smoothing out like glass. His eyes catch on my throat.

On the TRAITOR tattoo stretched across my skin.

A flicker of something. It's gone before I can catch it.

Then, just like that, he's smiling.

And I don't fucking like it.

He buttons his jacket, straightens his tie, and tilts his head. "Sure. You can do that."

His voice is calm now. Too calm.

"I'll see you later, Bones."

And then he turns on his heel and walks out.

I watch him go, jaw locked, fists clenched.

I know trouble when I see it.

And Luca Romano?

He's about to become a fucking problem.

Temper

It's hours later and night has already fallen. The weight of the day still lingers, heavy on my chest.

Ria and Layla hovered like two crazed mother hens until I finally put my foot down and sent them off for a sleepover. I need space. I need to think. That's just how I function now. I need silence to put my head back together.

I'm sitting on my back deck, inhaling the crisp mountain air, letting it cool the fire inside me. The night is calm. Still. Comforting.

And then I hear them. Footsteps.

Hisfootsteps.

Even now, after all these years, I know them like my own heartbeat.

"I should get an attack dog," I say, not bothering to turn around. "You keep coming back into my space like a bad case of herpes. Maybe you'd reconsider if you suddenly found your balls between a rottweiler's jaws."

I hear the smirk in his voice before he speaks.

"No dog would stop me, baby, and you know that. Where's Ria?"

"I sent her home. With Layla in tow. I need quiet." Finally, I turn to face him. I raise a brow, my voice cold. "You know. Some alone time. No people. No annoying biker lurking in my shadows. Just me, myself, and I."

"Funny."

He takes a seat beside me. Too close. Too fucking close.

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

I snort. "That's a question only my therapist and friends get to ask. You're neither, Bones. Go home."

He sighs. "Please, let's just hide the knives for a few minutes. Please, Temper. I just want to know if you're okay."

I stare into the dark horizon. "As okay as I can be knowing my rapist and personal tormentor is getting another shot at life, even if behind bars. Or worse, that he might get fucking acquitted." My voice is quiet. I'm too tired to keep the snark going.

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