Dare To Run (The Sons of Steel Row #1)(17)

“What’s what like?” I muttered.

“Having everyone in Steel Row terrified of you and the Sons?”

I could give her a cocky answer. Say it was the way the whole world should be. But I didn’t want to give her the generic answer I gave everyone else. “It’s the way my life’s been since I was fourteen. It’s all I’ve known since, and all I’ll ever know.”

Without welcome, the bag I’d packed came to mind. It reminded me I didn’t have to stay. But the thing was—now I did. I’d gone down there and claimed her as mine. She needed my protection, or they’d rip her to shreds.

I couldn’t run now.

“But you don’t like it?” she asked, pulling out a Band-Aid now.

I wasn’t answering that question. We weren’t schoolgirls bonding over a makeover, for f*ck’s sake. Why did she give a damn if I was happy or not? How was I supposed to even know what that felt like? “I don’t need a Band-Aid. What am I, six?”

“It’ll get infected.”

“I’ll be fine.” I stood and walked over to the window, minus the Band-Aid. Movement in the alley behind her bar caught my eye. “Cleanup is here.”

She came up beside me, her breaths becoming shallow when she saw the men below. “What will they do with the . . .?”

“Corpses,” I offered, mildly amused at her discomfort with the idea of them being dead. To me, it was just another day on the job. “I don’t know and I don’t care.”

She rubbed her forehead, not looking away. “They’re really dead.”

“Yeah. They’re really dead.” I stiffened beside her. Something rolled off her, and for the first time after a fight I’d won . . . I almost felt ashamed. When I killed, it was usually for the job. Not for a f*cking girl. What the hell had I been thinking? “Do you think I could have made them a cup of tea and asked them to kindly please stop hurting you?”

She wrapped her arms around herself and shook her head slowly. “No.”

“Exactly.”

They went to the back door of the bar and tried the door. She tensed. “What are they doing?”

“They’re looking for you. Looking for a plot hole in our story.”

She rubbed the goose bumps off her arms. “And if they find one?”

“Then you won’t be safe.” I tipped her chin up, forcing her to face me. Her skin was soft. So soft it felt almost wrong to touch it with my rough hands. As if I dirtied her by doing so. “You have to stay with me. We have to make it look real.”

She tapped her foot, looking anywhere but at me. I knew why. We were close, I was touching her, and I’d bet my last dying breath that she felt the same electricity I did. That same undeniable urge to get closer. Much f*cking closer.

“Do you have a spare bedroom?” she asked.

“No.” I tipped my head to the left. “I’ll sleep on the couch; you can have my bed.”

“I couldn’t ask that of you. I’ll take the couch.”

I forced a smirk. “Aw, come on, sweetheart. What kind of gentleman would I be if I allowed that to happen?”

“I thought you weren’t a gentleman,” she shot back.

“I’m not.” Letting go of her, I took one step back. I tried to put enough distance between us to help keep my undying urge to touch her in control. It didn’t work. I still wanted her. “But for you, I decided to be one tonight. Sleep well. I’ll be an * again in the morning.”

She shook her head, a small smile tilting her pink lips up in the corner. “That’s not something you can turn off. You’re either an * or you’re not.”

“Oh, I am.” I strode to the couch and sat down, setting my feet on the table and crossing my ankles. “Don’t ever think otherwise. You saw what I do to people who f*ck with something that’s mine.”

Her nostrils flared, and she marched up to me with narrowed eyes. “I’m not yours, Lucky. Stop thinking I am.”

“It’s cute that you think that. Really, it is.” I stared up at her, forcing the same I don’t give a shit smile to my face I’d perfected when I was ten. “Because you’re wrong.”

She laughed and shook her head. “You have this whole thing down to a science, don’t you?”

“This whole what?”

“The tough-guy act,” she said, leaning down and looking me square in the eyes. “You say something nice, realize you did it, and then say something ludicrously ignorant to even it out. To make people not like you.”

I snorted. She was uncomfortably close to the truth and I couldn’t let her know it. At least one piece of her logic was wrong. How could I possibly be some kind of nice guy masquerading as an *? It was the other way around; tonight, I was an * masquerading as a nice guy, and that was much more dangerous. “Run off to bed, sweetheart, before I decide to show you just how much of an * I can be.”

“You don’t scare me.” She placed her hands on her hips and stared me down. “And furthermore, I don’t require your protection. I can take care of myself, just like I always have. I’ll sleep here tonight, but tomorrow this thing we have going on between us?” She pointed to me, to her, and back again. “It’s over.”