Page 49 of The Broken Note

How the hell did she get the ring?

I snuck it out of my bedroom last night. I checked it right before I went to sleep and made sure it was still there.

“Dammit!” I explode suddenly.

Dutch glances over, his lips twisted.

I ignore him and rub my chin. Mom must have spotted the ring when I tried to hide it in my pocket. I can practically see her plotting her theft, crouching outside Vi’s room, biding her time, waiting until I fell asleep before sneaking in and taking it out of my backpack.

How foolish of me.

I thought I’d gotten one over her, but she turned out to be the victor instead.

“Am I heading into a fight?” Dutch stares straight ahead.

“What?” I ask distractedly.

“How many of them will I need to take out? If it’s more than five, I’ll have to call my brothers.” His eyes shift to me. “I’m not a ninja.”

His words are so ridiculous that a small smile trembles my lips. “You think I’m going to fight someone?”

“You have that look in your eyes,” he says, returning his attention to the road. “It’s that face you make when you’re going to shatter someone’s world.”

My eyebrows hike. “I do?”

He nods. “It’s hot as hell.”

I stare at the side of his face, and I can feel it. Attraction. Wild desire. Destruction. The tension between us is hot and sticky, thick enough to hold in my hands and stroke. And I’m desperate to touch it, but it’s not the right time.

Jerking my eyes away, I mutter, “It’s better if you don’t ask questions.”

“Fine. But I don’t want you throwing the first punch. You’ve already got a scarred heel from those shoes you wore and now your arms are scratched. The next person who bruises your body is not going to survive.”

My eyes narrow. It genuinely sounds like he would kill someone for me.

Possessive bastard.

“That isn’t funny.”

Amber eyes meet mine. Still. Determined.

A predator’s eyes.

“Who said I’m joking?”

In that moment, I realize how serious Dutch Cross is.

I tell myself it should scare me.

But it doesn’t.

And that lack of fear, that brutal recklessness, is the scariest thing of all.

CHAPTERTWELVE

DUTCH

I hate being interrupted.

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