Page 93 of Undertow

Adrian grabs my arm and yanks me back up.

“Move,” he growls with a hard shove toward the door.

THEN: NEW ORLEANS

“We’re not doing this,” I snap at Scarlett.

I said the same to Merrick when I arrived in New Orleans and discovered the last person I wanted to be partnered with waiting in my suite. To make matters worse, he also informed me on that angry call that Scarlett and I would be completely on our own. The more people involved in an operation, the higher likelihood of mistakes, and there’s no room for a misstep on this one.

But Merrick wouldn’t budge and hung up on me with a chilling warning to follow orders or else.

“You know why we’re here,” she fires back. “My father wants a deal at all costs andyou’rethe one they want. We need leverage.”

“You can’t blackmail the RLC!” I cry. “Your father has no idea who the hell he’s dealing with or what he’s doing when it comes to the RLC. He never has. This isn’t some amateur operation he can manipulate at will.”

“He already has. We got this far, haven’t we?”

“No, Scarlett!Igot us this far.Me!Mostly because I’ve gone against orders and did the opposite of whatever idioticinstructions I was given. Your plan will backfire. You have to trust me on this.”

Her eyes narrow on me as she crosses her arms. “What makes you the expert anyway? You’re only in this line of work because my father caught you stealing drug money from him. You’re lucky he chose to take you under his wing instead of burying you beneath a parking lot!”

I grunt in frustration and start toward the bedroom to get changed. This bullshit is exactly why I work alone. My story is too complicated to incorporate others into the narrative. The fact that Scarlett could even say that to me proves she knows nothing.

Fuck McArthur for being too stupid to see how his vanity and ego are thwarting his own objectives.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Scarlett calls out, stopping my retreat. “Since the Miami operation to get this meeting, you’ve done everything you can to keep us apart. Why? It would have been a lot easier if you’d just talked to me about what happened instead of making me chase you to New Orleans.”

I turn back to her in disbelief. “Is that why you’re here? You conned your daddy into risking everything over some petty crush?”

Her venomous eyes slap me from across the room.

“How dare you,” she seethes out. “My father sent me here because he doesn’t trust you, Shaw. No one does. You’re good at what you do, but we all know there’s something off about you.”

My pulse beats wildly as I fight to keep my expression neutral. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it? WhatamI talking about? I wish I knew. Everything about you is calculated. Everything you say. Everything you do. You think I’m the petty one for chasing you? At least I’m doing it because I want something, because you make me burn and fucking feel something I can’tcontrol. What about you? Do you even feel? Is any relationship real? You’re callous and untouchable. You’re the kind of a guy who could wreck a person. Would you? Would you wreck a person just because you could, Roman Shaw?”

I have no idea how to respond as her bitter words hang between us. She’s completely wrong and completely right at the same time. Iamcalculated. Idon’tfeel. Not one of my relationships is real, but not for the reasons she thinks.

My callousness isn’t the result of a cold, lifeless heart. What she sees—what they all see—is the protective shell around a heart that beats and bleeds too much for the life it’s been given.

She’s allowed to feel. And anyone who’s allowed to feel could never understand someone like me.

“I’m getting ready for dinner,” I say in a cool tone. “We’re not doing your plan, Scarlett. I don’t care what you were told. You follow my lead tonight, or you can stay in the room.”

I feel her furious gaze on my back as I stalk toward the bedroom.

My head. Fuck, my chest.

Everything is blurry and throbbing as I blink awake. Crusted fabric beneath me supports and refutes the idea that I’m in a bed.

Where the hell am I? What’s going on?

I turn my stiff neck to the left to find a sleeping stranger beside me. Two, actually.

My attempt to push up is cut off by a sharp burst of pain. Everything hurts, but it’s my head and right shoulder that are causing the most problems. I glance down and nearly vomit at the ugly gash, still oozing blood, just below my collarbone.

What the fuck?

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