Page 44 of At the Edge of Surrender

I gave her the only explanation I could offer. “Because I own that one, too, along with two others in town.”

I had no idea where the contemptuous sound came from that ripped up her throat as she looked away for a beat. Like she was angry with me about it.

“You didn’t tell me your name last night.” It sounded like an accusation.

A frown curved my brow, and I framed my response carefully. “You didn’t ask.”

Her laugh was shallow and hard, and she sniffled as she tipped that gorgeous face back up toward me. “No. You’re right. I didn’t ask.”

Confusion bound me, and I angled my head, trying to understand where she was coming from. Why disgust was suddenly radiating from her as she looked at me as if I were guilty of something.

Without a doubt, I was.

Guilty of so many fuckin’ things that if she even had a hunch of them she’d bolt so fast I’d never be able to catch up to her.

But there was no chance she had a clue of that.

Eyes still pinned to hers, I reached behind me and pushed down on the latch to open the door. “Let’s go inside so we can talk about whatever is troubling you.”

A howl of energy roared around her, and for a moment, she was rooted, unwilling to budge. My nerves flared beneath it.

Something unsettled tickled at the edge of my consciousness.

Awareness coming on that I was off base.

A different kind of dread dripping into my veins.

Inhaling a breath, she stepped around me and into the old church that I’d converted into my club.

The edges of the cavernous space were darkened, shadows playing along the obscured walls, though rays of afternoon light slanted in through the vertical stained-glass windows that sat up high on the cathedral ceiling.

It sent shimmery color glittering through the drab atmosphere, lighting up the rambling open space at the foot of the stage. Come ten o’clock tonight, that area would be packed with a ton of people out letting go of the cares of this world as they danced the night away.

A long bar ran nearly the entire length of the left wall, and secluded booths took up the rest of the wall space.

None of my employees were out front, so I assumed everyone was back in the kitchen.

“This way,” I told her.

Emery inhaled a shaky breath and followed along a foot behind me, the soles of our shoes squeaking against the worn hardwood floors as I led her to a booth on the right that was concealed in the corner.

“Here we go.” I gestured to one side, and she warily slipped into the booth. She peeked up at me with those tumultuous eyes as I stood over her.

“Would you like something to drink? I could probably come up with pretty much whatever youdesire.”

My voice deepened with the last, wanting to fulfill it in every way. This thing that thrummed between us, a crackling of energy, though it was diluted by those storm clouds that hung heavy around her.

“No, I’m fine.”

Disquiet tightened my guts, and I moved to take the spot across from her.

Leaning back in the booth, I gazed at her as she fidgeted.

Apprehension fluttered across those pretty features, this distrust and suspicion that I could somehow discern was directed at me.

A frown pulled to my brow. “Need you to tell me what the hell is going on, Emery, because from where I’m sitting, it’s something big.”

I sat there and watched this war go down in her expression.

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