Also, that’s not who I am.
“Forgiven.” This time, when I jerk my arm to free it, he lets me go. I poke him in the chest. “For the record, my family may be from Brighton, but it doesn’t make us snotty, entitled jerks. Respect me for the person I’ve shown you I am.”
When I thrust out my hand for him to shake, Havoc hesitates. Eventually, he accepts my peace offering by giving my hand a brutal pump that almost yanks my shoulder out of joint.
“Come and eat lunch,” he grinds out before stomping back to the kitchen. I follow him, and we finish preparing the meal in painfully uncomfortable silence. While we eat, however, I decide enough is enough with this whole stupid silence.
“So.” I spear a carrot, chew, and swallow, keenly aware of Havoc’s fierce stare on me. “What, exactly, does being an enforcer entail?”
Bold question. Either Havoc will answer it or he won’t. His choice.
“Thought you enjoyed your grind-to-five, Duchess.” Across the table, Havoc finishes chewing a mouthful of romaine with one brow lifted in mild amusement. “Or are you looking to change professions?”
I shrug with feigned indifference. “Just curious.”
“Curiosity didn’t work out well for the cat.”
“Actually, the full saying is curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.” I stab a cucumber with my fork. Wave it at myself. “And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a human. And female. I can’t be an Unholy. Remember?”
I pop the vegetable in my mouth, but it might as well be a lump of sand. It’s almost impossible to swallow with Havoc’s hot gaze sliding over me, scorching everywhere it touches. Liquid heat pools at my core and I swear to God, I almost feel his hands inching up my thighs.
Wishful thinking, of course.
Dangerous thinking.
“I’ve noticed everything about you, Kerri. But I’m wondering, are you implying that if I answer your question, I’ll be satisfying you?”
As he finishes another bite of his salad, I need to cross my legs and squeeze them tight together to ease the pressure building between them.
Havoc justbreathingsatisfies me.
“No, Havoc. I’m trying to get to know you.”
A muscle tics in his jaw, and for half a second, I don’t think he’ll answer me. But then he does, and it’s evident in his strained tone that he’s not used to sharing much about himself. Especially when it comes to the Unholy. “The quick and dirty? Enforcers protect Mayhem and its people.”
He makes it sound simple, but it runs much deeper from what Jester has said. It’s much more complicated and much more…bloody.
Havoc is lethal. I saw him kill someone on the Fourth of July after Jester shoved me out of his house when he realized someone had broken in. Faith was upstairs alone and in danger. Not knowing what else to do, I called Havoc, and when he got there, he discovered one of Daniel Davenport’s bodyguards lurking outside, waiting for the Unholy to show up to kill as many as he could to keep them from getting inside.
But Havoc murdered the man right in front of me.
He beat him half to death before slitting his throat on Jester’s front lawn. Then Havoc stashed me in his truck where I stayed safe while the Unholy…handled…Davenport—a man whose son Faith and I knew from Saunders Hall University. She even worked for Davenport, with none of us knowing he had been the one selling the designer drug onyx in Mayhem.
That night, when a man society deemed ‘good’ and ‘upstanding’ attacked Jester and Faith, Havoc kept me safe.
A criminal protected me.
“Faith once told me the Unholy are the demons who hide under the bed to keep the bogeymen trapped in the closet.”
“She’s not wrong.” He puts the bottle of Kentucky Bourbon Ale to his lips but doesn’t drink. His dark eyes slice into me. The shadows behind his eyes remind me of a creepy haunted house. One you can’t help but want to explore despite your fear of what you’ll find if you venture inside. He finally takes a drink, then sets the bottle on the table, toying with the label. “I’ll burn this whole fucking world to ash to protect Mayhem.”
His declaration sends a wave of gooseflesh over my skin beneath my pink hoodie and jeans. No doubt he’d do exactly that to defend his town and its people—the same as I would do for my family. It’s the reason I risked my life to find out everything I could about Ralph Miller.
“Let’s hope you never need to go to such an extreme.” His sober declaration of loyalty walks a chill down my spine.
Havoc watches my movements as I take a drink of water, and I wonder if I’ll ever get used to how he studies me. “What about you, Duchess? What’s this important work you do?”
If I thought he was mocking me, I’d fling the glass at him. He’s not, though. There’s genuine curiosity in his question, spoken in his typically gruff manner. “Officially, I’m my father’s assistant. Unofficially, I specialize in client research. It thrilled him when I decided to lend a hand at the firm.”
