Page 26 of Kissing Danger

He let go of my face but didn’t let me off the couch.

I leaned forward so our foreheads did touch. “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on now, or do I have to keep guessing?”

Nathan’s hand hovered in the minimal air between us, hesitating like he wasn’t sure what to do with it. For a moment, it seemed like he might grab me by the throat, but instead, all he did was lay his palm over my heart.

“You’re lucky I like you. Anyone else who tried to threaten me like this wouldn’t get a second chance. But I’m warning you. Stop.”

The moth-eaten couch didn’t have much padding left. When I threw my head back and laughed, I knocked my skull against the hard wooden frame.

“Now who’s the one being stupid?”

For the first time, Nathan looked truly shocked. Not mildly surprised or confused as I’d seen before, but genuinely shocked.

Seeing such an unusual expression on his face made me grin with a sense of accomplishment. “I’m not trying to threaten you. I don’t care what you’ve done. I don’t care if you actually havekilled people. I just want to know what’s going on and who hurt Kiki.”

I watched Nathan take a deep breath, obviously struggling for the composure that usually came so easily to him.

“I... may know who is behind this. And I assure you, it’ll be taken care of. You don’t need to worry. Now, its best if you leave it alone and stop asking questions you don’t want the answers to.”

Hitting Nathan again would be pointless, and in this position, nearly impossible, but that didn’t stop the urge. I balled my hands into fists and they itched with the desire to lash out, but instead I only glared up at him.

“Don’t tell me what I do and don’t want. Don’t make those decisions for me like I’m not capable of deciding for myself. If you have any respect for me, you’ll tell me what I want to know.”

“And then what?” Nathan snapped. His hand balled into a fist against my shirt, crinkling the fabric between his fingers. “Even if I do tell you, what good will it do?”

I laughed. It probably sounded manic, but I didn’t care.

“Good? Probably not any good. I don’t think you’re a good man. That’s fine. I don’t need a good man right now. I need an efficient one.” When I grinned at him, my expression showed too many teeth. It wasn’t a happy expression, which made sense. I wasn’t feeling particularly happy at the moment.

Truthfully, I wasn’t sure what I was feeling.

Anger?

Yes. But there was also a whole host of other things swirling around in my chest that I couldn’t pick apart.

All I knew was that I needed to move. Needed to act. I wouldn’t be satisfied with just sitting back and letting other people handle things for me.

“You’re going to take down the person who hurt Kiki,” I said with complete certainty. “And when you do, I’m going to be there with you.”

CHAPTER 11

Nathan

Not once,in my forty-six years of life, had I ever divulged a secret I didn’t mean to tell. When my parents questioned me about my grandmother’s broken vase, I said nothing. Hours of police interrogation had never gotten a single bit of incriminating evidence out of me. Even torture, which I had experienced only once during my earlier days as a Mafia boss, failed to have any effect.

So, it was a complete surprise when, upon saying that he wanted to personally make the people who hurt his friend pay, I ended up telling Deacon the truth about myself.

Not the entire truth. I still kept some secrets to myself. He didn’t know that I was the actual leader of the Chechen Mafia, but he now knew that I was an important member of it.

He also didn’t care. Or at least, he pretended that he didn’t care. I wasn’t sure if his nonchalant acceptance was real, or if it was just a symptom of his friend’s near-death experience. I still suspected that, once Kiki was well and her poisoner dealt with,the reality of the situation might finally catch up with Deacon and he would realize what he’d gotten himself into. However, for now, he sat beside me in a first-class airplane seat, watching the clouds out the window like he was just enjoying an average trip.

“Why don’t you have a private jet?” he asked suddenly.

The stewardess had already come around to serve drinks, and I held a glass of whiskey that was more ice-melt than alcohol. I’d hoped it would help settle me, but it didn’t. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt wrong-footed, and I couldn’t figure out how to find my balance again. The longer Deacon continued to act as though everything were normal, the more unsettled I felt.

“A private jet? No, I don’t have one. Why do you ask?”

With a shrug, Deacon closed the window shutter to block out the sunlight that reflected off the top of the clouds. “In movies and stuff, people...” His eyes darted around as he glanced briefly at the other passengers of the plane. In first class there was more space between the seats, but we still had no privacy. “People... in your position, always have their own private jets.”

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