“You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on, Jordie.”
“I’m sick, and I’m hungry,” I growled, opening the front door. “What more do you—”
I stopped speaking because the person standing on the doorstep wasn’t the delivery guy. It was the devil.
“No!” I shouted, closing the door, but the pressure from the other side stopped me from doing it.
“Please,” Adam said in a low voice. “I need to talk to you.”
“We have talked enough for one day,” I said, hiding behind the door. “Leave.”
“No.”
“Is that Adam?” Luz said, sounding suspicious. “What is that jerk doing here so late?”
“He’s leaving,” I replied, peeking behind the door until I found the restless blue gaze.
“Go,” I mouthed so that Luz wouldn’t hear me. “Or I’ll call the police.”
“We are the police.”
“I mean it,” I hissed. “Go away.”
“Jordie? Are you there?” Luz screeched.
“Please, let me in,” Adam insisted. “Don’t make me beg.”
Under normal circumstances, those words would be enough for me to change my mind, but not tonight. Not anymore.
“You’re making a scene, Markland,” I said through my teeth. “It’s late, and this is a quiet building. If you wake up my neighbors—”
“Then let me in.”
“I’m not letting you in,” I growled. “Get that through your thick skull.”
“I’m not leaving. I’ll sleep in front of your door if I have to.”
“You can’t sleep without me, in case you’ve forgotten,” I said, smiling sweetly.
“I haven’t forgotten. And I’m not leaving.”
“You know what? I’m getting my gun,” I said, letting go of the door and marching across the room. “I’ll shoot you in the footand call you an ambulance so they can wheel you out of here on a stretcher, but you’re leaving.”
I opened the drawer where I kept my weapon while bringing the phone to my ear. “Luz, I’ll call you back. I don’t need a witness for what I’m about to do.”
I turned and pointed my gun at Adam, only to find myself faced with a bouquet of red roses. I blinked and shifted my gun to the side, but there was nothing wrong with my eyesight. Adam Markland was standing in the middle of my apartment and holding a bouquet in his hand. A gorgeous bouquet, I couldn’t help but notice. Too big, probably, but a few dozen roses on display were in a perfect state of bloom. Blood red. Was he going on a date? If he came here to rub it in my face, I wasn’t going to shoot him in the foot. I was going to shoot him in the groin.
“Can you please take this?” Adam grumbled, shoving the flowers in my face. “I feel like an idiot.”
“Why?” I blurted.
“They’re for you.”
Oh.
What?
“They’re apology flowers,” Adam said, avoiding my eyes. “Not the other kind… the… you know… the romantic—”
