Page 15 of Malicious Wedding

“Slowly. With ketchup.”

“I don’t eat ketchup.” He leans closer, eyebrows raised. A little smirk on his lips. “But I’d love to devour you, darling.”

“Please don’t call me darling.” A thrill runs down my spine at the implication in his tone. There’s a subtle, sexy tone, and that unblinking look he’s giving me only underscores this man’s absolute insanity.

“I’m going to drop you back at Bottle of Smoke,” he says coolly, as if I hadn’t spoken. As if he hadn’t just said he wants to eat me to death, which, frankly, sounds like a good way to go. My lonely vagina practically ignites at the idea of Carson tearing me to pieces with his soft tongue and those criminally magnificent lips. “Then two of my guys are going to sit at a booth and make sure nothing bad happens. When it’s closing time, I’ll pick you up and bring you back to my place.”

“No. No, no, no, absolutelynot. I’m not going anywhere near that serial killer murder den you call a home.”

“It’s a very nice place. I have a gym.”

“And I bet there’s a basement full of the bones of your victims. No, thank you.”

Carson looks frustrated. It’s probably not smart to egg him on. “Why are you resisting this so hard? Do you really think that the people who killed your entire family are going to just ignore you?”

I grimace and look down at the floor as a pulse of fear presses into my stomach. I know he’s right, but I’ve been operating in fight-or-flight mode this whole day, ever since he told me what happened, and I haven’t really had time to sit down and process.

But it’s obvious, isn’t it? Someone tried to kill Iain. Then they succeeded in killing my father and my uncles. Apparently, a few female cousins survived the purge, along with the aunts. And then there’s me. If Iain’s the catalyst for all this, I’m still a main target.

They’ll come for me. Anyone that went to the trouble of tracking down every little piece of the Locke family won’t stop until they find me too.

Which means Carson might be my only hope.

We pull up and park outside of Smoke. I stare at the storefront, at the chipped paint and the faded sign. If I had a million dollars, I’d renovate the hell out of the place, but instead I patch up the real problems as they arise.

Sort of like my life.

And this is another problem I’ll toss a quick fix over and move on, hoping it doesn’t break down later.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I say, not looking at him. “Ten years ago, I turned my back on my family because I hated that they worked for the Crowley organization. And Carson, youarethe Crowley organization. Your father may be the head of it, but you’re next in line, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he says simply.

“You’re the reason all of this happened. And I’m sorry, but I’d rather take my chances than spend another minute with you.”

I shove the door open. Before I can get out, Carson’s hand shoots forward and holds my wrist, keeping me from unbuckling my seatbelt. He holds me there, staring into my face, and my heart thuds like crazy in my chest, and my uterus does this extremely disturbing tap dance, and every inch of the skin between my legs is tingling like it’s on fire—but no matter how attractive I find him, Carson’s everything I hate.

“Let go, please.” My voice comes out a pathetic, strangled croak.

“Reconsider. I’ll be here tonight when you get off work.”

“I don’t want you, Carson.”

“But I want you, Ashlyn. I’ll see you later.” He finally releases me. I unbuckle, stagger out, and stand on the curb as the Lexus pulls away, leaving me alone and exposed on the sidewalk.

But I want you. Those words blast through my brain like a cruise ship’s foghorn.But I want you. Not protect me. Not keep me safe. Hewantsme.

What the hell does that mean, and why does it mess me up so badly?

I shake my head, steeling myself.

Carson’s a ghost from my past. No, he’s a ghoul come back to haunt me. I won’t give him the satisfaction of playing protector when he’s the one that caused this mess to begin with.

That cop said I’m probably safe, and I choose to believe him.

Even if I’m pretty sure he’s wrong.

I head back into Smoke, shuffling like an extra fromNight of the Living Deadand feeling like a pile of grave dust.

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