“You got a problem with me calling you that?”
I shake my head. I have no problems or thoughts, only a body that's vibrating at a frequency previously unknown to science.
He turns and walks away. He’s all broad shoulders and confident stride, owning every inch of space around him. At the end of the hallway, he glances back.
“Lock your door, Karina.”
I fumble for my keys. Inside, I close the door and lean against it, pressing my fingers to my tingling lips.
Dolly trots over and stares up at me, head tilted.
“Don't say anything,” I tell her.
She huffs and walks away.
I slide down the door until I'm sitting on the floor and my phone buzzes in my purse.
Clay: Lock the door.
I reach up and flip the deadbolt.
Me: Done.
Clay: Good girl.
I drop the phone and press my hands to my flaming cheeks.
What the hell am I doing?
Chapter Six
CLAY
Karina laughs at something the florist says and touches his shoulder.
It's nothing. A casual gesture, the kind of easy warmth she shows everyone. Her hand stays there for maybe a second before she pulls it back and returns to checking off items on her clipboard.
One second. And I want to rip the guy's arm off.
I grip the folding table hard enough to dent the metal. It's been twenty-four hours since I kissed her against her front door, and I've lost my fucking mind. She smiled at a vendor this morning, and I had to take a walk outside to cool off. Now she's touching some asshole's shoulder, and I'm calculating how long it would take to cross the room.
This isn't me. I’ve never been jealous over a woman before: I keep my emotions locked down tight where they can't make me stupid.
“You're going to break that table, Prez.”
Viper appears beside me, arms crossed, smirking.
“I'm fine.”
“Sure you are.” He lowers his voice. “Got an update on our friend Chet Morgan.”
I force my attention away from Karina and the florist. “Talk.”
“He's been moving money. Small amounts, they’re all spread across multiple accounts. Nothing that triggers automatic flags, but it adds up. I've traced about forty grand so far.”
Forty grand. Stolen from people who thought they were helping their community.
“Can we prove it?”
