In For the Kill (McClouds & Friends #11)(5)

“It was just a letter,” she said, defensive. “Hand-delivered. It said they were going to kill me. That’s all. Nothing came of it.”

“When?”

She shook it off. “Months ago, now.”

“So why aren’t you guarded twenty-four/seven?” he snarled.

“I was! For months! Finally, I put my foot down, because it was absurd, Sam. I can’t live my life like that. Don’t worry! It’s covered!”

Covered, his ass. But he knew a dead-end conversation when he heard one. He had lots of practice. Those were a Petrie family hobby.

“Fine,” he said. “On to the next item that’s not my business.”

Her eyes dilated. He wished he had the super-senses they said Miles had now. His heart pounded too hard to hear hers, certainly at that distance. He started to close that distance, and she skittered back a pace. It took all his willpower to stay motionless, leaving none to hold back the incredibly ill-advised question. “If you don’t want to talk about death threats, then tell me about your love life.”

Her mouth tightened. “I would rather not.”

“Tell me about lover boy. How long have you been seeing him?”

“You mean Josh? I’ve known him ever since Nick rescued me from Zhoglo. He’s a good friend.”

“Define ‘friend,’ ” he said. “Does it mean, free to fondle your ass?”

Her chin tilted up a notch. “You’re being invasive.”

“Yeah? Would you feel invaded to learn that he’s hitting on two girls on the catering staff, in between groping slow dances with you?”

Her gaze dropped, but she did not look as startled or upset about that revelation as she ought to. “You have no right to judge.”

“Wrong,” he informed her. “That ten minutes in Ranieri’s home office two years ago. No matter how long ago, no matter how you’ve ignored me since then, that ten minutes gives me the right to give a shit. Tell me about Cattrell. Are you f*cking him?”

“No!” The denial popped out, vehement and breathless.

“Planning to?” he persisted. If this was going to be the definitive crotch kick of reality, then bring it on.

Sveti’s gaze dropped. He waited.

“You’re not involved with him at all,” he said.

“I told you,” she said. “We’re good friends.”

“And it doesn’t bug you that he was fondling the waitstaff.”

“No, not anymore,” she said softly. “I’ve known for a long time that he doesn’t have the feelings for me that I’d, um, hoped.”

Hoped? Sveti had hoped, and the guy hadn’t delivered the goods? God, Cattrell must be brain damaged not to hit on that.

“He was touching you as if you were lovers,” he said. “But you’re not an ass-grab kind of girl. You asked him to do that for my benefit. He was a safe date, in case I came to smoke you out. Your human shield.”

Her color rose. “Wow, Petrie. You may be surprised to learn this, but you are not, in fact, the center of all my thoughts.”

“Tell me if I’m right,” he persisted, though he was already sure.

“Get out of my way!” She tried to push past him, toward the door.

He grabbed her. He knew he shouldn’t, but the part of him that knew had no say. The rest of him clamped on to her, nerves jangling at the sweet shock of contact. Laced up into that tight cage of crimson satin, her heat and scent overwhelmed his senses. She strained away from him. Provoking a dangerous, animal urge to drag her close. Pin her down.

“Let me go, Petrie,” she said. “Or I’ll start to scream.”

“You treat me like I’m a criminal lowlife, out to rape and pillage,” he said. “I’m one of the good guys, Sveti.”

“Hah,” she muttered. “There are no good guys.”

“We’re all bad, then? You lump me in with Arbatov? Zhoglo?”

The mention of the two mafiya vors energized her struggle. He clamped her tighter against his body. Her heartbeat was so frantic and birdlike. She felt so fragile. But she wasn’t.

“I can’t believe we’re talking about my love life when that monster is in the ballroom with my friends and their kids, eating tempura-dipped zucchini flowers! He’s committed horrible crimes against innocents!”

“You’re not the only one who tries to protect the innocent.”

She sniffed. “Yes, of course. The police are so very noble.”

He waited for a moment. “Not fair,” he said quietly. “We try.”

She looked down, abashed. “That is true, and I apologize,” she said. “This is silly, Sam. I promise, I won’t be rude to the criminals. I won’t get myself or anyone else killed. Let go. Please. I’ll be good.”

Now she was trying sweet reason. Who cared. She might have gotten a handle on her self-control, but he most definitely had not.

His grip did not slacken as he put words to the thought forming in his head. “You know what your problem is, Sveti?”

She tilted a winged dark brow. “I imagine you’re going to tell me?”

“Your love life, the thing with Josh. Me. It’s the same issue. You think sex is frivolous. The real deal is the big bad story of your life. Ogres trying to cut your heart out and sell it. The last-minute rescue from a grisly death. The hell you went through gives your life purpose. It defines you. The rest is fluff. It doesn’t deserve your full attention.”