Ruthless Creatures (Queens & Monsters, #1)(22)

He’s giving me a strange look. I can’t identify it, until he says crossly, “No, Nat. I’m not interested. I came here to tell you I still have feelings for you, and that I made a mistake in breaking it off.”

Well, shit.

“I’m so sorry. Um. I don’t know what to say.”

“You can say you’ll let me take you out to dinner tonight.”

We stare at each other in uncomfortable silence, until I say, “I think I’m going to have to pass.”

“Tomorrow night, then. Tuesday night. You name it.”

I say softly, “Chris—”

Before I can finish that sentence, he steps forward and kisses me.

Or tries to, anyway. I manage to turn my head at the last second so his lips land on my cheek as I’m gasping in surprise.

I recoil, but he grips my shoulders in his hands and doesn’t let me pull away. Instead, he yanks me against his chest and keeps me there.

Into my ear, he says roughly, “Just give me another chance. I’ll take it as slow as you want. I know you’ve been through a lot, and I want to be there for you—”

“Let me go, please.”

“—for whatever you need. We have a connection, Nat, a special connection—”

“Chris, stop it.”

“—and you need someone to take care of you—”

“I said, let me go!”

I shove against his chest, starting to panic, feeling bruises forming on my flesh where he’s gripping me so tightly, but freeze when I hear someone say, “Take your hands off her, brother, or lose them.”

The voice is low, male, and deadly.

Chris looks over his shoulder to find a bristling Kage standing a few feet away, staring at him with the flat, killer look of an assassin.

Flustered, Chris jerks away from me. “Who’re you?”

Kage ignores him and looks at me. “You good?”

I wrap my arms around my waist and nod. “I’m fine.”

He looks me up and down silently, his eyes hard and assessing, searching for proof that I haven’t been hurt. Then his icy gaze slices back to Chris.

He growls, “You have two seconds to get off that porch before you won’t be able to walk off under your own power.”

Chris lifts his chin and sticks out his chest. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but I’m a—”

“Dead man, if you don’t fuck off. Right. Now.”

Chris glances at me for help, but he’s on my shit list at the moment. When I stare at him, shaking my head, he looks back at Kage.

He takes a nice, long, look, taking in the powerful shoulders, the clenched fists, the murderous scowl. Then he does the sensible thing.

He picks up his hat from where he dropped it on the ground, jams it back onto his head, says to me, “I’ll call you later,” and runs away.

I fold the envelope into thirds and slip it and the key into my back pocket.

Watching Chris scurry off toward his sheriff’s car, parked at the curb, I say drily, “You have a very interesting effect on people, neighbor. Even the ones carrying a gun.”

He prowls closer, his jaw as hard as his eyes. “He’s lucky I didn’t rip off his head. You sure you’re okay?”

I smile. “And you claim not to be a knight in shining armor.”

“Furthest thing from it,” he says, his voice low. “But a no’s a no.”

“He’s harmless.”

“Every man’s dangerous. Even the harmless ones.”

“Do you have such a low opinion of your own gender?”

He lifts a shoulder. “It’s the testosterone. Nature never made a more deadly drug.”

Or a sexier one. All the male pheromones he’s exuding are making me dizzy. I look away, flustered.

“So I thought about what you said. Last night.” I clear my throat. “You know.”

His voice goes husky. “I do. And?”

“And…” I take a breath, gather my courage, and meet his eyes.

“I’m flattered. You’re probably the most attractive man I’ve ever met. But I haven’t been with anyone since my fiancé, and I’m in a weird headspace right now, and I don’t think a fling with a hot stranger would be good for me. Fun and amazing, but ultimately not good for me.”

We stare at each other. He looks serious and intense, his dark eyes locked on to mine.

Just when I’m afraid I’ll burst into hysterical laughter from sheer stress, he murmurs, “Okay. I respect that. Thank you for being honest with me.”

Why am I sweating? What’s happening with my heart? Am I having some kind of medical emergency?

Wiping my sweaty palms on the front of my jeans, I say, “So we’ll just be neighbors, then.”

He draws a breath, rakes a hand through his hair, and glances toward his house. “Not for long. The house will go on the market in the next few weeks.”

Why that should make me feel so deflated, I’m not sure. After all, you can’t get your money laundered if you don’t sell the real estate you’re trying to launder it through.

I’ll think about why that knowledge doesn’t bother me later.

“I’m out of here tonight, anyway.”