Page 22 of The Piece You Stole

While Nathan continues to smirk at me, I realize I made my decision when his suit jacket gaped open as he bent to open the door for Rylan, giving me a brief glimpse of a wooden hilt in the inside pocket.

The steak knife.

He said he was going to keep it close, and it looks like he meant it.

It hypnotizes me, that beautiful, carved bit of wood peeking out at me. I see it, and I can almost feel the weight of it in my hand.

You could pretend to stumble, bump into him, and slip your hand right into his pocket. Maybe in the same way that the guy who stole Simon’s wallet from you did.

It can’t be that hard. Can it?

I’ve never killed anyone before.

Felix’s face flashes in my mind.

Not intentionally.

You don’t think driving a car off a bridge is intentional?I mentally scoff.

This would be different. I would look into Nathan’s eyes and see the light go out. I’d feel the warmth of his blood coating my hands, maybe even see him take his last breaths. A car crash is one thing.Thiswould be cold-blooded murder.

Could I do that?

My gaze returns to Nathan’s face.

His smile widens. A memory of Simon’s somber brown eyes, serious but kind, inserts itself into my mind. He was the first person in my life who tried to help me. Not because he wanted a blow job at the end of it. Not for any other reason than that he saw I needed help and gave it.

And then there’s Dad. Something I can’t let myself think about yet. Maybe not ever.

So yes, I could look Nathan in the eye and plunge a knife into him.

I could do it.

Nathan’s smile changes. Turns anticipatory, as if he knows what I’m thinking and wants me to attempt it. He probably does. I’m not behaving the same way I was before, defeated and lost, which makes things different for him, a new challenge, and a new situation to test himself in.

I step closer.

Tripping myself is easy. Five-inch heels means there are a million different ways to fall and make it look like an accident.

I stumble. As I crash into his chest, my hungry fingers dart into his open suit jacket.

A car tire squeals behind me as the tip of my index finger brushes against the bulge in his pocket. Nathan grabs my arms, his grip tightening, and I know he’s about to shove me aside. But he doesn’t yet, and it’s no mystery why.

He’s waiting to see if I’m brave enough to pull a knife on him because I don’t think he believes I’d be capable of doing it. But that’s okay, I’m happy to prove him wrong.

His gaze darts over my shoulder. A deep frown creases his brow and his lips thin.

He’s distracted. Good.

It was like this was meant to be.

I rip one arm free from his grip and delve my hand deeper into his pocket, trying to ignore the warmth of his chest.

My hand finds the steak knife hilt.

“Saige Leo!”

The barked order has me spinning around so fast I stumble. For real this time.

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