Have you ever had a moment where you knew you were in danger but ran headfirst anyway? That’s what being around Tommy is like. Nonstop fear that the man who criminals whisper about, who can end a life in so many horrific ways it would put most famous serial killers to shame, will snap and I’ll become his latest victim.
But even as fear tries to creep in, tries to follow the lines of his arms wrapped around me, I find myself relaxing into his hold. His words are crazy, but so is he if you ask anyone who works in the underworld.
I open my mouth to reply to him, but nothing comes out. Because what do you say to something like that? How do you respond when the most feared man in the city tells you to ditch your date or there will be consequences? What kind of consequences are we talking about here? Like, he’ll get me fired, or he’ll kill me? Which end of the scale are we measuring this at?
“Cat got your tongue, Clara?” He breathes against the shell of my ear and goose bumps break out across my body. His voice is hard, even in a whisper, and my core aches at the thought of him whispering to me as he plays my body in a way only he could.
Snap the fuck out of it, hussy, I reprimand myself. I cannot feel anything toward this man, no matter how intoxicating his hold on me is or the way his eyes bore into me through the mirror. The way they track each movement I make as if they were trained to only do that for the rest of his days.
“Let me go,” I demand, but my voice wavers under the pressure.
“Not until you agree.”
I glare at him, but he seems completely unaffected as he holds my gaze in the mirror. “No.”
“Clara,” he growls.
“I said no, Tommy. You have no right to barge in here and start demanding shit. I’m having a nice time on my date, and there’s no reason you should be here, looking at me like I’m a naughty teenager for sneaking out.”
He watches me closely for long seconds like he’s seeing me for the first time, as if something just occurred to him that should have been obvious from the start. “Let me spell this out for you, Clara. You’re leaving this bar in the next five minutes, no matter which way you look at it. You’re either going to be a good girl and walk your ass out of here yourself, or I’m going to throw you over my shoulder and march you past your date so he knows exactly who you belong to.”
My mouth drops open of its own accord. What the hell is he talking about? “I don’t belong to anyone,” I snap.
I’m not into the claiming bullshit. Sure, it can be kinda hot in romance novels, but in real life, that shit’s gross. You can’t own another human being, and it’s unnatural to be so possessive. He’s lost his damn mind if he thinks I’m going to go along with that narrative.
A dark chuckle claws its way from his throat and the sound makes my core clench. “That’s where you’re wrong, my sweet fawn.”
But he doesn’t offer anything more. No explanation. Nothing. Just his savage stare looking back at me.
“You have five minutes, and then I’ll make the choice for you.”
He doesn’t say another word, simply dragging his body away from mine and retreating from the room. As soon as his warmth no longer envelops me, a chill makes its way through my bones, and I crave his touch.
Maybe I’m the one who’s lost my mind.
I step toward the basins on shaky legs and lean on the porcelain for support. What the hell just happened? And what am I going to do? I don’t have a lot of time to figure it out, and I’m torn. Justin is a nice guy, and he definitely doesn’t deserve to watch me get carted out of here over the shoulder of a sociopath. But I also don’t want to willingly go to Tommy. Because who knows what kind of fucked-up realities I’ll face if I step into his orbit.
I splash water across my face and up my bare arms, but the cool water does nothing to defuse the fire burning inside me. He barely touched me, so how is it possible to need him this badly? To crave his touch as soon as I lose it?
I worry my lip between my teeth on my way back to the table and my step falters when I notice Tommy standing across the bar talking to the security guard like they’re old friends. Hell, they probably are. Wynter has frequented this bar on and off for years, so maybe Tommy was sent to vet the security at one point or another.
I slip back into my seat and meet Justin’s worried eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his hand coming across the table to envelop my clammy ones. “You don’t look well.”
A laugh catches in my throat, even if I know he doesn’t mean it maliciously. I look flushed and flustered, two things I definitely am right now, but neither is because I’m not feeling well. No. There’s only one reason for how pink my cheeks are, and he’s standing by the door talking to the security guard. “I’m actually not feeling that well. It might have been the tuna salad I had for lunch.” The lie slips from my lips with ease. I’ve been lying through my teeth since I was old enough to talk, but I turned over a new leaf when I moved here, and I vowed to always tell the truth. I guess that’s out the window now too.
Justin’s handsome face falls as his brown eyes fill with sympathy I don’t deserve. I hate myself for leaving him like this, but what other choice do I have? Tommy has taken the choice from my hands, and there’s nothing I can do about it. “I should take you home. Do you have someone who can take care of you? A neighbor or something?”
I shake my head at both points. He can’t take me home because Tommy will put an end to that before we make it out the door, and the reality is, the closest thing to a friend I have is Wynter, and she’s giving birth right now, so my fake illness definitely doesn’t make it to her priority list. “I’ll be okay. I think I just need some sleep.”
He nods and stands from his seat. “I’ll pay the tab and then I can walk you home. You’re not far from here, right?”
I stare at him for a few beats because there’s no reason he should know that. We’ve never discussed where I live, I’ve never talked about it with anyone at work, in fact, and there are very few people who know my address. “That’s not necessary,” I force the words out and look over my shoulder to make sure Tommy’s not far away. He shouldn’t be my safe place, but he’s quickly become exactly that. An unlikely savior for someone who refuses to accept they need saving.
“I can’t, in good conscience, allow you to walk home alone when you’ve just told me you’re not feeling well.”
I open my mouth to respond but feel a hard body behind mine. He doesn’t touch me, but his warmth radiates into my back and makes it hard to drag in a breath.
“There’s no need,” Tommy rumbles. “I was here having a drink with a buddy and Wynter would kill me if I didn’t make sure she gets home safely.” His voice is light, but there’s an edge to it, a darkness lurking just beneath the surface. Justin has no idea how much danger he’s in, doesn’t realize he’s talking to a predator and I silently will him to say the right thing. If he challenges Tommy, there’s every chance in the world it’s going to end badly, and that’s the last thing I need tonight.
Justin opens his mouth to argue but is met with Tommy dumping a hundred-dollar bill in the middle of the table and carefully guiding me to turn around.
“Let’s get you home,” he says quietly.
“Hey!” Justin snaps. “I’m perfectly capable of taking Clara home.”
Tommy turns on his heel, a snarl tugging at his lips. “I’m sure you are, but Wynter is very protective of Clara, and seeing as I’m in Everett’s role now that the two of them are stepping into parenthood, it’s my responsibility to make sure our staff is safe.”
The pissing contest I’ve found myself in the middle of only makes me want to leave them both here and take myself home, and yet I can’t pull myself away from Tommy and the safety he offers me.
Before Justin can formulate a response, Tommy wraps an arm around my waist and steers me toward the exit. He doesn’t stop until we reach the edge of the curb, where a matte-black motorcycle stands out on the street full of midrange cars.
Without a word, he takes the helmet from the seat and slides it onto my head before slinging a leg over the bike. “Get on behind me,” he commands.
But I can’t move. There’s no way I can get on this bike…can I? I’ve never been much of an adrenaline junkie. In fact, quite the opposite. So the idea of getting on the back of the bike makes my heart speed up and my stomach drop. “There aren’t two helmets.”
He chuckles and shoots a smirk over his shoulder at me. “Don’t you know, little fawn, only the devil himself can drag me to hell.”
