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I look at the gun, then at him, and finally, back at the gun. I’m not too close, but I could do it from here.

My fingers grip the handle tight, my hand inching upward. Then something hits me hard from behind, and the scream knots in my throat when I’m tackled down to the cold concrete.

THIRTEEN

torin

“Fuck!”What the hell is wrong with this woman?

Harry struggles in my grasp. She’s fucking beyond lucky we’re not any closer to Salvatore and his underage girlfriend.

I hold her down and manage to grab the gun with one of my hands. I shove it in the back waistband of my jeans.

“Let me go,” she says through clenched teeth.

I lock a hand around the back of her neck, wrapping my fingers around her hair so she has no choice but to remain still. “Fuck no, Dirty Harry. You lost all privileges when you ran off and decided to play Clint Eastwood in Central fucking Park. Now I’m going to move and you’re going to roll over and face me.”

“I’ll knee?—”

I squeeze her hair harder and she shuts the fuck up.“Now.”

I lift up. She flops over and glares at me. We’re close, and in the light of day, I catch the darker gray specks in her eyes. It only adds to her fiery spirit. That silver and gray swirling fast and hard. Like a powerful storm.

Her lashes are thick and dark, and her hair’s a mess. Dirtstreaks one cheek and she’s so fucking pretty I can’t stop myself from leaning in to kiss her.

But really, only because it makes us look less weird.

She looks good and tastes even better.

Her lips part for me, and what’s meant to be a simple kiss for display becomes real as I’m swept into her embrace. Our tongues meet and dance slowly as heat stokes high between us.

She might not like me, but she sure enjoys what I do to her. And I like doing it.

I break the kiss because laughter shatters the moment. I look up to see a couple walk past. I glance up at the bench where that scumbag Salvatore’s acting like the kind of guy who gives a shit what a teenage girl has to say.

No one but another teen cares about what a teen has to say. Not in that way.

I grind my teeth. Sick fuck.

They’re far enough away that I can’t hear their conversation, but I could kill them both with ease, even from this position. It’d solve the problem of the hit… but more likely, it’d make things worse, for all of us.

I swallow a frustrated sigh.

He’s not the last Ricci. It’d definitely make it worse.

And I’m not killing a teenage girl I don’t fucking know.

So I abandon my thought, get up, and haul Dirty Harry along with me. Then I sling an arm around her shoulders and maneuver her the hell out of the park and away from Salvatore.

“Give me my gun,” she snarls as I shove her in the car.

I lift an eyebrow at her. “No. It’s my brother’s gun, and Callahan is very possessive over his things. We’re going home and I’m locking you up.”

“We need to get Lucie. We—” She breaks off, her brows furrowed as she peers at thedriver. “Who’s that?”

“Not Mikey.” I tap a hand against my thigh, my blood still spitting in my veins.

Lucie should have known better. I should have known better.