I finally bring my gaze to his.
“We need to talk first.” He spears me to the spot.
My brother jumps into motion. “Yeah, of course you do. I was just going to check on Shae.” He scurries away tocheck onthe woman who might just be a bigger badass than he is, leaving me alone with DiAngelo.
Traitor.
I cross my arms and lift my chin. “You need something?”
Did I just see the corners of his lips twitch? The motion was so fleeting, I question whether I saw it at all.
“I need your number, and we need to talk about schedules. I don’t want you taking a step outside without me.”
“I hope you realize that if someone wants me dead badly enough, there’s nothing any of us can do about it.” I’m not sure where the sentiment comes from. It’s morbid and reeks of defeat—two descriptors I wouldn’t normally use to label myself. Even when I think I’m over the past, it haunts me in new ways I’m not expecting.
This seems to be one of those times.
DiAngelo’s eyes flash with conviction as though I’ve laid down a personal challenge.
I don’t understand it.
I don’t understandhim.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Are we not even supposed to try to prevent it? You have a death wish I need to know about?”
“No, I’m just saying that crazy people do crazy things. I’d prefer not to have your death on my conscience because some Russian lunatic decides he wants me dead.”
“That’s not your choice to make,” he counters firmly.
“Isn’t it?”
His hulking form inches closer. My breath catches.
“Someone kills me because I’m protecting you, only two people are responsible—me and the twisted fuck who manages to catch me by surprise.”
“But if I’m the target?—”
He stops me with a raised hand. “That. Isn’t. Your. Fault.”
A wave of emotions crashes over me. Suffocating me.
But I can’t let him see my struggle.
DiAngelo has no way of knowing that he’s touched on the most sensitive, exposed nerve that I possess. And he’s the last person I’d be willing to open up to about something so deeply painful.
My only defense is anger.
So I do what I have to and cling to my outrage. I encircle myself in its decadent velvet embrace and wear my fury like a crown.
“The outcome’s still the same, so you’ll excuse me if I’m not in favor of your sacrifice, no matter how voluntary or honorable.” I poke his chest with my finger as the anger surges.
DiAngelo wraps his huge hand around mine and tugs me so close our noses nearly touch.
“Good thing for both of us, I’m a hard sonofabitch to kill.”
He suddenly looks down at our hands as if to examine them.
His shift in focus derails me, leaving me flailing, unsure what to feel. I can’t imagine what’s going through his head until he slowly lifts my hand toward his face and takes a long, heady sniff of my fingers.
