Page 83 of Torched Spades
“Becca,” he says, his voice rumbling against my ear. “Why did your face turn so pale when you mentioned that tattoo?”
“It was just startling.”
“I’m serious.” He rests his chin on top of my head. “I need to know.”
I almost tell him. My lips part and the truth is right there, ready to spill out and pool around all the red footprints. Bullets and blades. The haunting words are sitting on the tip of my tongue when I clamp my mouth shut and force them back down my throat.
Because as much as I want to, I don’t trust him.
If I don’t speak the words out loud, they aren’t real. Then I can continue to pretend it’s not happening all over again.
Slowly, I drag myself out of his embrace and put some distance between us before changing the subject. “So, I guess here we are again.”
Those dark eyebrows draw together. “What?”
“I’m the only gig in town for you, it seems,” I say, forcing what I hope is a smile. “No other doctor is willing to take you on as a patient, especially since Eli Cromwell is popping Xanax like Tic-Tacs after one appointment.”
“What about you?”
I hold his stare, determined to piece myself back together. “You’ll have to try harder than that to break me, Malone.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“It’s a fact.” Striding toward my chair, I pause next to him and give him a side-eyed stare. “As much as I love to deny Owen and Eli’s request to reinstate you, I also won’t have you going to jail on my conscience. So I suppose we’re stuck together for a few more weeks.” He reaches for my face again, and this time, it’s me who snags his wrist. “But there are new ground rules.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Such as?”
Returning his hand to his chest, I walk as confidently as possible around the coffee table and take a seat in my chair. “No touching. No kissing. And definitely no sex.”
“I don’t accept those terms.”
This time my smile isn’t forced. “You don’t have a choice. Now, have a seat, Mr. Malone. We’ve already wasted twenty minutes of important therapy time.”
* * *
By the time I leave the office, it’s well after six o’clock. The hallways are deserted, and the only sound I hear is the rhythmic click-clack of my heels. But it’s the darkness greeting me as I open the door to the building that causes my heart to race.
Causing my feet to stall.
Causing my skin to scatter with goosebumps.
Someone’s here.
My pace quickens, and the sporadic security lights doing nothing to ease my growing anxiety. I’m not even cognizant of my hand slipping into my purse much less when it grips the weapon hidden inside.
I won’t be a victim again.
This time, I’m ready.
Even the shadow falling behind me doesn’t break my stride. I clear the remaining few feet, pressing the unlock button on my key fob with one hand while the other curls around the trigger.
“Becca…”
Less than five feet from my car, I freeze, my feet refusing to take another step. Keeping my finger steady inside my purse, I spin around. “What are you doing here?” It’s an asinine question. The startled look on my father’s face tells me there’s only one reason he’d dare step foot on office property.
I’m going to kill Jack for this.
His expression twists with something I refuse to acknowledge as he reaches his hand toward me, only to draw it back just as quickly. “Jack told me…” Swallowing hard, he palms the thinning gray hair on top of his head. “How many times have I told you that dealing with those people is going to get you hurt?”
