Liar (Madison Kate #2)(43)



"You're kind of amazing, Kodiak Jones," I told him softly when we parted.

His lush lips curled in a grin as a black Escalade glided into the parking lot. "I thought you would never notice."

Laughing, I climbed into our hired car with him and snuggled under his strong arm the whole way home.





17





No one was home when we got back to my father's house, and after some convincing, Kody left me alone long enough to take a shower. I'd washed my attacker's blood off my hands back at the diner, but I needed to wash the memory of his touch from my skin.

Under the hot spray, I used my loofah to scrub the ever-loving shit out of my skin until I was tender and pink all over. As I reached for my towel, my bathroom door swung open and Archer stomped into the steam-filled room.

He froze, his eyes raking down my naked, wet body and pausing briefly at my midsection—staring at the vivid red scar of my healing stab wound.

"Can I help you, sunshine?" I drawled. I made no attempts to cover up because fuck it. He wanted to be a ballsack and pretend he wasn't attracted to me? I'd make it as hard as humanly possible for him. I slowly unhooked my towel from the drying rack and grinned when Archer wrenched his gaze away from my tits.

"Here," he said, his voice gruff but husky. He slammed my purple butterfly knife—still covered in blood—down on the edge of the basin and glared at me accusingly. "Try not to lose it again." Despite the sneering reprimand, there was a noticeable thread of arousal in his voice, and his eyes drifted down my body again like they had a mind of their own.

"See something you like, big man?" I taunted him, popping a hip as I dabbed my chest dry. I had no reason to be ashamed of my nakedness. Not when he'd barged into my bathroom unannounced and I wasn't in the habit of showering fully clothed.

His brow furrowed, and his lips twisted in a sneer. "I don't do sloppy seconds, Madison Kate. Or thirds for that matter."

“Okay, sure, and denial is totally just a river in Egypt,” I scoffed. “What happened with the guy? Did you kill him? Where’s Steele?”

“He’s busy,” Archer replied with a deep scowl, his eyes tight with anger and frustration. “Cleaning up your mess.”

I glared at him hard, tossing aside my towel and propping my hands on my naked hips. “Oh, of course, because I asked to be attacked and choked in some random fucking diner in the middle of nowhere. I guess I forgot placing an order for that.”

His eyes narrowed and the vein over his temple throbbed, but he couldn’t seem to help the way his gaze dipped to my breasts… then lower. I thought he was just being a perv, but the flash of guilt that passed over his face when his eyes found my scar made me reconsider.

“Are you okay?” he asked me in a quiet voice, his gaze shifting from my scar only enough to inspect my neck. He—as a pro-MMA fighter—already knew a rear naked chokehold didn’t leave bruising.

Still, the genuine question threw me for a loop.

I bit my lip, feeling my pulse race. “I’m fine,” I replied, dropping the snarky bullshit for a second. “Are you and Steele okay? Whose blood is that?” I nodded to the stained blade he’d dropped on my vanity. I don’t know why those three simple words from him had suddenly triggered my concern, but they had.

Of course, as the silence stretched between us, I realized I must have imagined that moment of humanity. His eyes were still on me, but they’d turned heated. Instead of answering my question, his pale blue eyes dragged all down the length of me like a caress, and he scrubbed a hand over his dark stubble.

I snorted a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, sunshine. You’re not interested in sloppy seconds at all. Makes me wonder why you can’t stop eye fucking me.”

His gaze snapped back to my face faster than a broken elastic band, then without a word he stomped out of my bathroom again. He slammed my bedroom door so hard it made a picture fall off the wall, and I just laughed to myself.

I was getting to him. Maybe torturing Archer with his own conflicted feelings would be more fun than supergluing his nuts to his leg after all. It was certainly a plan that deserved consideration, that was for sure.

After I dried off, I dressed in comfy sweats and parked up on the middle of my bed with all my study notes scattered around me. My lingering feelings about all the attempts on my life would need to wait a week before I could curl up in a ball and sob. My intro to psychology exam was first thing Monday morning, and there was no way in hell I planned on failing any class at the university my own father had built and funded.

Kody came to check on me, bringing me a plate of freshly baked cookies. But he didn't hang around when I made it clear that I was actually studying, not pretending to study so I didn't need to deal with Archer downstairs.

It was well into the evening when I packed up my notes and closed my laptop, mentally declaring my brain as full as it could possibly get with study notes. I was confident that I had a good handle on the material for the exam in the morning; I'd always tested pretty well, even if I barely retained any information a week later. But still, there was a gnawing anxiety building inside me that seemed totally separate from my usual stress of stalkers and murderers.

Then it occurred to me. I hadn't seen Steele since he’d blown out of the diner with Archer.

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