“So what, I'm supposed to just sit here and wait? Let you handle everything while I become some helpless little wife? No fucking way, Bronx. That’s not what I signed up for.”
The fire in her voice makes my dick twitch. There's my hellcat.
“Look, we all thought Connor was the target. We brought him here to keep him close and under our watch. But now we know that whoever is watching may have other plans. And so our strategy needs to change.”
I don’t mention my suspicions about Declan. It’s too soon and I have no evidence that I’m even onto something.
But I’m gonna keep digging because if he knows something that might hurt his daughter and he’s not telling me about it…I will fuck him up.
She spins back around, chest bumping me and the knife pointed at my throat. “I don't need you to keep me alive. I kept myself alive just fine before you.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Yeah. In Dublin. Where you knew every street, every contact, every escape route.” I step closer, lower her hand and crowd her against the counter. “You don't know shit about this city.”
“I know enough.”
“You know how to spot surveillance. That's it.” My arms cage her body, trapping her. “You don't know where to run, where to hide, who to trust.”
Her chin lifts. “I don't trust anyone anyway.”
“No? Then why are you letting me protect you?”
“Because Connor?—”
“No, fuck Connor for a minute. Why are you trusting me?”
She opens her mouth to argue, then snaps her lips closed. For a second, I see a flicker of uncertainty in her expression.
“I don't trust you,” she says.
“Liar.”
“I don't.”
“Then why aren't you fighting me harder on this whole marriage?” I lean closer, watching her pulse jump in her throat. “Why aren't you planning some elaborate escape?”
“Maybe I am. You’d haveno idea.”
“Are you?”
Her breaths become short and shallow but she doesn’t speak. Conflict flares in her icy blue gaze.
“I hate that I need you,” she bites out.
“I know.” I run my hand down her side, take the knife and reach around her back. After I drop it, I press her into me, she doesn’t resist and her proximity makes my cock throb.
“I hate that I can't just leave.”
“I know that too.”
“And I hate that when you touch me...” Her voice trails off, and she tears her eyes away from me.
“What?” I ask, my voice rough. “What happens when I touch you?”
She still won't look at me. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit.” I catch her chin with my free hand, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Tell me what happens.”
“Bronx—"
