Page 39 of Eyes in the Shadows

At that, I do turn back, suspicious that he’s needling me again. “Sounds like I’m just ticking all your boxes then, huh? Too bad nothing about you is on the list of thingsIlike in a man.”

I’m lying through my teeth, of course. I can literally see four things I like very much from here, and they’re called face, hair, body and sense of style. Not tomention the growly possessiveness that makes my lady bits do a river dance. And, as fucked up as it might be, knowing he’s as good with a gun as he is with his hands… well, that doesn’t suck for him either.

“Nothing?” he repeats, surprise in his tone. “Not evenmyass?”

God, how I want to take a bite out of that ass. But I shake my head. “Nope.”

“What about the southern charm? The handsome, yet rugged smile? The biceps?”

“Kind of outweighed by the murdering and stalking.”

His grin is easy, confident. “If I’m just some asshole, why did you protect me back there? You could have run, but you stayed and helped. The locker thing was your idea,” he reminds me needlessly.

“Tit for tat. You saved me, I saved you. We’re square.”

“Oh, darlin’, if you think that makes us square you’ve got another thing coming.”

Well, that’s ominous. I wrack my brain, trying to think of another time he’s saved me. I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m not really sure what else I could possibly owe you for. You’re the one who put me in danger, you know.”

“We’re here.”

I turn my head forward and immediately gape, seeing some sort of palace. It’s dark, but from the way the fence extends into that darkness I know it just keeps going. The yard is huge, with old hardwood trees partially obscuring the front yard. The house is up-lit with those fancy lights, and so far away from the gate that it almost appears small, but I know that’s a trick of the eye. There are too many windows, too much stone and stucco for it to be anything other than massive.

He leans out his side of the car far enough to press his thumb against what must be some kind of fingerprint thingy because it makes the gate in front of us creep slowly open. That security detail feels high tech and impressive and, for a moment, I actually feel a little safer because of it. Then I remember security keeps things outandin.

It occurs to me that he never really said he was bringing me here to keep me safe. It was implied, sure, but the words… Did he ever say the actual words?

The gate closes behind us with a resounding click and fear worms its way back into my belly.

15

Mac

She’s… non-negotiable.

We’re square.

She doesn’t know the half of it. Not only have I repeatedly put her in danger, listened to her private life, and spied on her without her knowledge, but now I’ve put a target on her back.

No, we’ll never be square. I’ll never make it up to her.

Truth be told, I like the idea of being in her debt, almost like it means she has to stick around so I can work on the deficit. And because I’m a real asshole, I also like that she assumed I meant she’s inmydebt. It feels like a power balance I can use to my advantage. It feels like it proves she knows I can protect her.

She’s right. Can and will.

I take her bag from the trunk and place my free hand on her lower back to escort her to the front door. Something happened when we passed through the gate—her body language changed. She seems jumpier, and I don’t like it, so I want her in easy reach.

“This is your place?” she asks, wonder in her voice as her neck tilts back and she locks eyes on the crystal chandelier hanging between the dual staircases.

I almost wince, seeing the marble floor and gold accents for the first time again through her viewpoint. It’s so over-the-top, but I wasn’t the decorator. “It’s a rental.”

“Oh,” she says softly. “That’s… not better.”

“It was the only available short-term rental that wasn’t a one-bedroom apartment,” comes Wes’s dry, amused tone from around the corner. He walks into the entryway, laptop balanced on one forearm, and extends his hand to her without so much as a glance my way. “I’m Wesley.”

She takes his hand and I realize suddenly that I’m on edge—tense about them meeting. Wesley is what girls might consider a bit of a heartthrob, with his British accent and aw-shucks demeanor coupled with a well-honed body. But her eyes only scan him briefly in curiosity and my hackles lower.

“Mac didn’t mention a roommate.”

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