Catching up in only a few long strides, I wrap my arm around her shoulders, dragging her out the office door onto the main bar floor under my hold. “I insist.”
She rolls her eyes before letting them land on mine, her cheeks still bright pink in the flashing lights. “That won’t work forever you know. Eventually your threats won’t hold any weight.”
“I’m not threatening you,” I grin, “Not right now, anyway. Come on, I just want to make sure you get home safe. This is a dangerous part of town. Tons of criminals. I’ve heard there’s even,” I look aroundthe bar, pretending to search for something before pulling her closer and whispering, “a murderer around here.”
Despite herself, Brigit laughs, trying—and failing— to hide the sound by biting her bottom lip.
Silently, I guide her out to my car, easing her into the passenger seat.
The ride is mostly silent, aside from the one time she tried to give me directions before remembering that I’ve been there.
Twice.
That she knows of.
With her seatbelt halfway off, she freezes and looks at me, her eyes wide and nervous, “Cormac.”
“Brigit,” my gaze drifts across her face, cataloguing every shadow and line, hoping that if I can just stare hard enough, it'll guarantee nothing will take the memories of her from me again.
“Now you have your answer.”
“Right.”
“So we’re done. You’re going to leave me alone.”
No, I’m not.
But I don’t have a good excuse to keep pestering her.
“Nah.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know the truth about me and what I’ve done,” I shrug, panicking and scrambling to find any excuse to keep feeding my addiction.
Her jaw drops and her brows furrow, the volume of her voice growing with her exasperation, “Because youtoldme.”
“You asked,” I explain, though I know that reasoning is flimsy at best. “In any case, I’ll need to keep an eye on you. Make sure you’re not plotting to turn me in.”
Her teeth grind as she narrows her eyes at me, vitriol and a touch of fear bleeding into them. Her mouth opens and shuts, whatever argument she’s thinking to make falling flat before she can even utter the words.
Her furious response is to climb out, leaving the passenger door wide open, making me look like an idiot when I have to put the car into park and walk around to close it.
Even though she left me to make a fool of myself, my chest warms as I watch her disappear into the foyer of her building. Her fear is utterly intoxicating, and I don’t know that I’m ready to face what that says about me, but I know I’m not going to give up the high any time soon.
She can be angry at me.
I deserve it.
What I’m doing is sick and twisted.
I know that.
But I can’t stop. Don’twantto stop.
I might live in the dark shadows of her life, but I want her to come play there with me.
She says she wants me to leave her alone, but that’s what she’ssupposedto want. That’s what a sane person would want. But her reaction to me every time we’ve been together tells me something else entirely.
