Does It Hurt? (20)
She looks tired—sad—but I’m not falling for that bullshit again.
It was one of the reasons I had bothered with her in the first place. She had a sense of humor and a perpetual grin, but nothing about her seemed happy or carefree. Which is exactly why I liked her. My darkness was attracted to hers, and it seems I learned the hard way just how dangerous it is.
The second I spot her, I gun it straight for her. Instead of storming up to her and grabbing her by the throat like I’d prefer, I keep my pace casual and relaxed.
Moments later, our eyes clash, and hers round at the corners. She bristles, and I can see that alarm system blaring in her head, banging the gong like a madman, and screaming at her to turn around and run away. If she does, I’ll fucking tackle her ass, uncaring of who sees.
She forces herself to keep walking, probably hoping I hadn’t noticed her little crime. Which is precisely what I plan to make her think.
“Thought you didn’t want to see me again,” I say casually when she’s close enough.
She forces a grin, light-years away from reaching her eyes. Her nervousness is palpable; just like the sharks lurking in the ocean, I can smell her fear.
“Just couldn’t stay away, I guess,” she says, ending it with an awkward laugh. “This doesn’t have to be weird. We saw each other naked. It wasn’t anything special for either of us. I’m okay with us keepin’ it moving.”
Now that’s a fucking lie.
I raise a brow. Normally, I’d enjoy the way it makes her swallow nervously, but that comment is enough to infuriate me. I don’t need her to stroke my ego, but the fact that even now, she still fucking lies.
I don’t get the fucking point of it.
That was the best fuck of her life, and she doesn’t even need to open her mouth and tell me so to know that. My soaked bed sheets and her red, shell-shocked face were a clear indication.
“Wasn’t anything special?” I reiterate.
Another awkward laugh. “Don’t make this weird, Enzo.”
“Okay,” I tell her. “I won’t remind you of the best night of your life. But I am curious if you want to experience the best day of your life now.”
Her brows pinch, and she stares at me like she’s waiting for the punchline. She even glances around as if a film crew is going to pop out and tell her she’s being punked.
Patiently, I wait for her to make up her mind.
“I don’t think that’s a good—”
“It’s not sex, Jamie. I won’t even ask you about yourself.”
It’d all be a lie anyway.
She blinks. “What exactly is going to give me the best day of my life then?”
“A shark.”
“Oh, you’re fucking cracked,” she tells me with an incredulous laugh, and for a second, it almost seems genuine. It makes her look… innocent.
Yet another lie.
“Scared?”
“Uhm, who wouldn’t be?”
“Me.”
She frowns. “Okay, well you got me there.”
“I’ll keep you safe,” I assure her. And it’s the truth. I will keep her safe from the sharks. Just not from me.
Chapter 7
Sawyer
This is a mistake.
Yet, here I am, following Enzo as he leads me toward a massive boat on the harbor, a credit card with his name on it burning in my back pocket.
The only voice I can hear right now is Kev's. He berated me often, especially after our parents died. I can only imagine what he'd say now, watching me get on a boat with a man I hardly know. The worst part is I'm the criminal and allowing Enzo to take me out after what I've done… It's too far, even for me.
Yet, I’m too fucking selfish to walk away.
We stop at the end of the dock, and he turns to look at me, watching me take in the boat before me.
She’s a beauty—gleaming white with the name Johanna on the side in big, blue letters. Windows line either side of it, and I’m pretty sure that thing could fit a bedroom or two in it comfortably, but what’s most notable is the cage attached to the back. A shark cage, to be exact.
“You expect me to get in that?” I ask, pointing to the mini prison.
“If you’re feeling brave enough,” he challenges, his deep voice quiet yet wicked. There’s a spark in his eye, though I can’t decipher what the fuck it means.
I was expecting an immediate confrontation when he saw me. Denial was poised on the tip of my tongue, but he’s acting oblivious to his stolen identity.
Most people aren't aware their identity has been stolen until it's too late. He has no reason to suspect me yet. Nothing was missing from his house, and despite his bottom drawer being unlocked, who would stop to consider identity theft?
Relax, Sawyer. He doesn't even look angry.
Well, okay, that’s not entirely true. Enzo wears a perpetual scowl on his face like it’s an oxygen mask and has string beans for his lungs. According to him, it’s what keeps people far, far away and allows him to live his life in peace.
Regardless, allowing him to take me in the middle of the ocean where I quite literally can’t run isn’t one of my brighter ideas. In fact, it’s honestly fucking stupid.
That reminder settles in deep, and I’m beginning to feel all kinds of wrong again. I don’t necessarily feel like I need to fear for my life with Enzo, but I still feel on edge.