I know damn well what Alex would think if Fournier tried to touch me. Fournier’s not a waiter; he wouldn’t merely look. If he laid his hands on me, Alex would kill him—or try to. Van Wyk would stop him, or that muscle-bound bodyguard back there. Alex would die in the process.
And I know damn well Alex knows that. I saw his response, his composure and anger warring together, then…snap.
Something happened. His eyes went blank. The single scariest emotion I’ve ever seen on Alex’s face… or the utterlackof emotion.
I should never have said anything. I should never have offered myself in his stead. I just… couldn’t help it. Not with Van Wyk there, his knife out, the meaning so very clear.
Who the hell chops fingers off?
And Alexknew. There wasn’t any surprise; heknew.
How the hell did he already know?
“Of course,” Van Wyk continues, interrupting my thoughts, “Alex might be upset that you were so keen to… well…volunteer.”
That was a pathetic attempt. Van Wyk is trying to provoke me, but he’snothingon Alex. He’s not even in Fournier’s league.
Alex knows why I ‘volunteered.’ He knows I did it forhim, not for Fournier.
Doesn’t he?
Because from where he was standing, I offered myself. Shit… did he take desperation for enthusiasm? Is he pissed at me?
Stop. Not now.
Not with Van Wyk watching me like a hawk for every tell I let slip.
File it. Deal with it later.
Right now, I need to be Alex.
What would he do?
What I want to do is tell Van Wyk to go fuck himself. But I hesitate. Alex would play it strategically. He’d give nothing away, he’d get inside Van Wyk’s head.
There’s an opportunity here. Maybe. If I can pull it off.
I’m dealing with a killer. I know that now. I have to be careful.
Van Wyk is trying to manipulate me, but why? To get to Alex? To get atme? To put a rift between us? Something else?
Games within games within games.
All right, let’s play.
I bite my lip. I glance at him. I look forward, then to the side. I slow my steps. “Um…”
“Yes?”
“Do you… um…”
“You can tell me.”
“Do you think I went too far?” I ask in a rush.
One of the wonderful things about being agirlis that somemencan’t see past that. My ridiculous dress is suddenly an asset. Appearances are everything: I’m justsoinnocent.
Van Wyk reaches down and takes my hand, returning it to his arm, the way we were as we left Fournier’s study. Then he gives it a little pat. “I think your enthusiasm was quite understandable.”
