Page 80 of Rule the Night
“You’re a fucking liar.”
I opened my mouth to object, to ask himhow dare hecall me a liar.
But I didn’t get that far because a split second later, his mouth crashed onto mine.
My arms hung limp at my sides, my body pliant as I opened my mouth for him, meeting the sweeps of his tongue with my own. All the anger I’d felt a moment before seeped out of my body. There was no room for it — for anything — when Remy was lighting me on fire with a kiss so searing it obliterated everything else.
He let go of my jacket and slipped his hands under my shirt. He grabbed my tits as he licked the seam of my mouth, then bit my lower lip and kissed his way down my neck, his hands sliding over my waist and ass.
He gripped my hips and pulled me tight against him, and I gasped as his dick pressed harder against my stomach. An ache of need had opened up in my cunt, my desperation to feel him inside me sudden and all-consuming.
“Still want to go home, killer?”
The words, murmured against my neck, cleared the lust-fueled haze that had paralyzed my body.
I shoved him away. Hard. “I’m not the killer.”
I hadn’t been a good enough shot to be a killer.
“Thanks to me,” he said.
“Not just that.”
“What then?”
It had occurred to me at the protest that I’d been foolish to try outside Ethan Todd’s hotel last time, not with the crowds full of people, the cops everywhere, the noise and chaos.
That hadn’t been the way.
But I’d been deep in the throes of grief, sick over what had happened to June, over the fact that I hadn’t stopped it. Getting rid of Ethan Todd — making him pay for what he’d done by radicalizing Chris — had seemed like the only way to eliminate my own pain.
I still believed that, but I wasn’t equipped to handle a situation as charged as the scene outside the Warwick. I’d spent hours upon hours at the firing range, perfecting my aim. Rose had become an extension of my arm, the weight and feel of the gun as familiar as that of my favorite butcher’s knife, but none of that meant I could be trusted to make a shot in a crowd full of moving people while Ethan Todd was surrounded by security.
Standing at the front of the protest before Remy had hauled me away, I’d said a silent prayer of thanks that the bullet I’d aimed at Ethan Todd six months earlier had lodged somewhere unseen, that my attempt on his life had become nothing but another rumor in the bowels of the internet.
“I’m not good enough,” I finally said.
He shook his head and raked his hands through his long blond hair. “And thank fuck for that. Now get in the fucking car, Maeve.”
49
BRAM
The hours crawledby but I didn’t dare leave the loft until I knew Remy had her. Once he’d texted that they were on their way back, I’d relieved some of my tension by delivering a message to one of the Blades who’d tried to skim from a weapons deal.
That had helped.
My knuckles were raw and bleeding by the time I got back to the loft an hour and a half later, but that had been preferable to the discomfort I’d felt wondering if Maeve was okay.
I had my hands in a sink full of ice when I heard the roar of the Spider outside.
“They’re back,” Poe said. He’d been as edgy as I’d been while we waited.
“No shit.”
Remy came trudging up the stairs a few minutes later, Maeve on his heels. She looked both defiant and sheepish, something I suspected only she could manage.
I’d become an expert on Maeve’s expressions, watching her when she thought no one was looking. I knew that she bit her lower lip when she was frosting something elaborate andcomplicated, knew that a line formed at the bridge of her nose when she was confused. I clocked her hardened jaw when she was pissed, her tendency to look away when she felt vulnerable.
