Page 106 of Property of Whiskey

“Bullshit.”

I pull the key from my pocket and unlock the first cuff, then the second.

The metal falls away.

Twila rubs her wrists, and red marks circle both of them.

I fucking hate seeing those. Not because the cuffs did something on their own. Because I put them there.

My thumb brushes one mark before I think better of it.

Her eyes lift to mine. “You trust me now?”

“Nope.”

“Then why’d you do that? You think you can stop me if I run?”

“Yeah.”

She smiles. “Cocky.”

“Very.”

Twila slides off my lap slowly enough that every part of her drags over every part of me I currently need her nowhere near.

I close my eyes. “Woman.”

“What?”

“Trying to kill me?”

“Thought about it.” She steals my line.

When I open my eyes, she’s smiling. Not the fake sweet smile from when I came downstairs. Not the deputy smirk. Not the one she put on because she wanted my keys.

Just Twila.

That one’s the dangerous one. I stand because I need space before I make another terrible decision.

“I’m going upstairs.”

“Why?”

“Because Mama taught me to walk away from temptation.”

“She also chain women in her basement?”

“No. That’s a family tradition I started today.”

Twila snorts.

I head toward the stairs. “Try ‘em.”

“You’re just leaving?”

“Yep.”

“What if I run?”