She cuts me a sharp glare at my snort, one that tells me even though she’s fatigued, she’ll still try and take me down. I back up, not wanting her to overexert herself.
“Imightlet you have one sipifyou let Jax drive you,” Nix says.
“One sip isnotworth that.” Kira gives me an up-and-down look of disdain.
I cock my head, amused at how well she pretends she doesn’t like what she sees. She can be appalled by my line of work all she wants, but there’s no denying the attraction. I bet that just a third of that can of Red Bull will be enough to break down her walls so she doesn’t pass out in the street while trying to walk to work.
“And how many sipswouldbe worthy of getting in a car with me?” I ask, giving Nix a grin that says I can handle this, before turning to Kira.
I know she wants the ride to work, or the money. She just doesn’t want to admit it. If we haggle, then she can keep up the pretense that she’s fine and only admit to really wanting the energy drink. All the while, I get the peace of mind that she’s not dead in a ditch. It’s a win-win.
“Hm.” Kira purses those pretty lips, seemingly doing the calculation.
“Two sips?” I press. “Three?”
I watch as she counts on her fingers, sure that we’ll end up at a third of the can—at most—when a devilish glint hits her eyes.
My smirk falls.
Chapter Fifteen
Kira
Bullshit.
Absolute bullshit.
I said it would take ten-thousand sips to get in the car with him—which meant I wouldnotbe getting in the car with him—but they allotted me three before shoving me into his passenger seat. As if him being in our house all day wasn’t bad enough, now I’m strapped into his car, surrounded by leather and heat and that smug, infuriating grin of his.
“Just let me out, and I can walk,” I say, sure that he doesn’t want to be doing this any more than I want to let him do this.
“Stop,” he chuckles, easing the car into motion. The sound wraps around me like a warm blanket, and I hate that my shoulders relax before I can stop them. “We both know damn well if you didn’t want the ride, you wouldn’t have gotten in.”
“You three forced me.” I swivel in my seat to look at him, disbelief on my face that he thinks I really want to be alone with a guy who hides bodies for a living.
“You didn’t put up much of a fight, though, did you?”
“Because I had a heart attack!”
“Tear,” he corrects me, raising a finger. “You had a tear.”
I open my mouth with a retort, but the words die on my tongue… because he’s right.
And I hate it.
Peeling off the imaginary warm blanket, I face forward, shaking my head. This is unbelievable. I don’t know why Nix would think that being stuck in a car with Jax would be easier on my heart than walking. It’s currently pounding with so much fury that I wouldn’t be surprised if this interaction alone is what puts me back in the hospital—never mind the mounting worry that what we did is going to come back to bite us in the ass.
I think the shock, or adrenaline, or whatever, has worn off, leaving me with a sickness in the pit of my stomach. People don’t just get away with murder. There’s always something that gives them away. Jax can tear up every floorboard in our house, and it still wouldn’t make me feel safe—just floorless.
I nibble on the edge of my nail as we pull into the drugstore drive-through. Nix made sure to tell him to stop here, even though I told him it wasn’t necessary. But at least it’s near closing, and luckily, there’s no wait as we approach the window.
“Name?” a tired, older man asks through the microphone.
“Uh,” Jax hesitates and turns to me. “What was your name again?”
Narrowing my eyes, he slowly smirks.
“Kira Noland,” he says while keeping his eyes on me, and then lower, “How’s it feel?”
