Page 12 of Dirty Justice

“About that movie,” the guy began.

Apollo’s chest felt like it was filled with explosives and one spark would detonate him.

This asshole asking Indika on a date—right in front of Apollo—was that spark.

He spun on her. “What—did you decide to swipe right on every government official once I was gone?”

Indika let out a strangled noise.

The guy stepped back. “Annnd, I’m out. We’ll catch that movie some other time.” The guy reached up and gave her shoulder a little rub.

Apollo felt a vein pop in his forehead.

Indika found her voice. “I’ll take a raincheck.” She turned to watch him walk away.

When he was out of earshot, she narrowed a glare on Apollo. “Why are you like this?”

He resisted the urge to jam his fingers through his hair. He was doing a poor job of winning her back. He wouldn’t do it by threatening every man who wanted a piece of his girl.

She’s not my girl. Not now.

Not YET.

He grasped her forearm. “So, dinner.”

“Are you kidding me? After that—that—caveman act?” she sputtered.

He pulled her along beside him and crossed the parking lot to her car.

She dug in her heels, then twisted her arm out of his grasp. “How do you know this is my vehicle?”

He pinned her with his gaze. “I know everything about you, Indika. Can the other guys say the same?”

* * * * *

A shriek welled in the pit of Indika’s lungs.

If she let it out, coworkers would hear and come running to help. And Apollo would get physical, which would only end in police reports and sending bouquets of flowers to the people he put in the hospital.

The fact that he knew what her car looked like now shouldn’t surprise her. He claimed to know her—and she knew him too. Which meant she knew he probably studied every move she made before he ever popped up in Blackout HQ that day and proved he was alive.

Ugh. She had to get out of here. She delved a hand into her purse for her car keys. All she had to do was jump in and take off before Apollo tried to stop her.

A big hand reached out to snag the keys from her.

She jerked them back and clamped them in her fist. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Get in. I’m driving.”

“It’s my car.”

“You’re in no condition to drive.”

A small screamdidescape her at that. “Because of you!”

“Go on. Unlock it. I’ll get your door.”

Frustrated, flustered and on the brink of making a big scene, why did she need reminded in that instant of everything she liked about him?

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