“You couldn’t find them? Huh, weird.” I smirk as she takes a bite of her toast, eying the juice as if it were poison. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and place it on the counter in front of her.
“It’s not weird when it’s a fucking habit, Midas.” She takes the bottle and drinks half of it.
I lean over the counter and soften my voice, needing her to know how serious I am. “I took one scrap of lace. I know that’s a creepy move, but I saw it on top of your washing and couldn’t resist. I didn’t take the rest.”
“Bullshit. Not even I can be unlucky enough to have two stalkers.”
I don’t deny being a stalker. She knew I was around, even if she didn’t see me. We’ve always been attuned to each other that way. “I’m sorry, Legs, but it wasn’t me.”
She stares at me, frowning, before her face pales, and she slides the half-eaten toast away. “You were arrested at my apartment.”
“I was arrested next door, and I didn’t say I wasn’t stalking you. I said I wasn’t the only one. Whoever they are, they’re good. I’ve not caught anyone else watching you, but then my sole focus is always on you.”
She rubs her hand over her face. “How did my life turn out like this?” she grumbles. “What about the jackass next door? Have the police found him yet?”
“No, and they won’t.”
Her eyes widen a fraction as she immediately understands what I’m saying. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“He threatened you. No, he was a threat to you. What if he tried something when I wasn’t around? What if he couldn’t get to you and took his rage out on another woman?”
That shuts her up.
“Still, Midas, he hadn’t actually done anything yet. He didn’t deserve to die.”
“Whoops.”
She blinks before standing up and pointing at me. “No, dropping a plate is a whoops. Forgetting to take the trash out when it’s collection day is a whoops. Killing someone in cold blood because they hurt my feelings is not a fucking whoops. It’s murder.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Legs
I walk away,needing to put some space between us before I throw something at his head. My anger is the only thing keeping my heartbreak at bay, and yeah, there’s some fear involved, too. I don’t think Midas would hurt me physically, and I’m clinging to that hard enough to break my fingertips, but there are a million ways to cut someone without using a knife. Nothing draws blood faster than a sharpened word and veiled threats.
I run my finger through my hair and try to formulate a plan. Del will be losing her damn mind. At the very least, I need to let her know I’m safe before she storms the police station, or worse, the MC compound.
“Legs.” Midas steps up behind me, his hands wrapping around my arms.
I shrug him off and whirl around. “You wanted to talk. Let’s talk. I need to get back to my life, Midas.”
He grits his teeth but nods toward the sofa. I sit on the chair instead so he can’t sit beside me. He shakes his head and sits on the edge of the coffee table, right in front of me. I’d roll my eyesif I didn’t think he’d consider it playful. That’s all this is to him—a game. I’m not sure why. I was never a prize he wanted to win.
“I don’t even know where to start.” He rubs his hand over his face, and for the first time, I really study him, and notice how tired he looks.
“Start somewhere. Anywhere.”
“Alright. I was wrong.”
I swallow. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this.
“I knew the second I flipped my shit, I was going to lose you, but I couldn’t stop.”
“Because you’re an asshole.”
“Because I needed you to be lost.”
I shut up, but I’m not sure how to react to that.
