Page 57 of Hellbent
“Delta.”
I try to ignore the thrumming of my pulse and keep the conversation going. “Didn’t think you’d be the type to take orders.”
A flicker of amusement crosses his face.
“I’m not. I prefer to give them.”
Heat flares in my chest, and I swallow it down.
Ryder giving orders.
He’s talking about the military. That’s all.
“So you led them?”
“Yep.”
“That why you don’t take direction too well?”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “Something like that.”
“And what do you guys actually do now?”
He leans back, and I try not to notice the way his t-shirt clings to broad shoulders and solid muscle, the fabric just barely loose enough to hint at the strength beneath. Or the way his voice settles low in his chest, rough and steady, like it could command anyone to do anything.
“Auto mechanics.”
I snort. “Right.”
“You ask a lot of questions, Maxwell.”
“And you give a lot of bullshit answers.”
His mouth twitches like he almost—almost—finds me amusing. Then, to my surprise, he sits upright again and shrugs. “Fine. I’ll answer anything you want. Straight.”
That catches me off guard. I sink back onto the couch beside him and put my empty glass on the table. “Anything?”
“Anything.”
For a second, I consider asking about the list, but I'm afraid to bring it up again. So instead, I go for something else. Something that’s been clawing at me.
“Okay. That woman from before. The one I saw leaving your place that day. Who was she?”
He frowns like he’s searching his memory.
I roll my eyes. “The blonde? Nice coat? Left in an Uber?”
Realization dawns, and he actually smiles slightly, as if he can’t believe I’m asking this. Finally he answers, “No one.”
“C’mon!” I exclaim. “You said you would answer anything.”
“I did. That’s the whole story, Maxwell.” Then, a beat later, “She was just a random fuck.”
The flicker of my pulse is only partly irritation.
“That’s it?” I ask, disbelieving. “You never went on a date or anything? You never saw her after that?”
He shakes his head.
