“So let’s go somewhere else.” His eyes are lazy and lust-filled. He’s clearly not thinking with his brain.
“Can you just focus?” I snap.
He frowns, scrubbing a hand over his face, and hooking his finger in the neck of his T-shirt. “Sorry, girl, but you’ve got me fuckin’ worked up.”
“You’re not the only one,” I say with a crooked eyebrow, shifting between my feet to rub my thighs together. “But I’d kind of like to keep you alive long enough to have more than one go at you.” I steal a look at him as he frowns down at the grass under our feet. “What?”
“Probably was a bad idea anyway,” he mutters. “I wasn’t really thinking about the long term.”
You idiot, Ryan. He probably only wanted the one ride on my merry-go-round. “I’m reading too much into things, aren’t I? I’m making assumptions about what you want from me. Fuck.” I step back, putting air between us. “I feel like a moron. You probably just wanted a quickie, and here I am acting like I’m your damn missus already.”
“Be nice.”
“What?” I snap my gaze back to where he’s still leaning on my car, adjusting his jeans.
“To have you as my missus,” he says quietly. “I want it all. You, the quickie, the stuff afterward.” He lifts his head, a wicked grin twisting his lips. “I’m just not used to someone bein’ interested in that with me . . . or there bein’ another guy involved.” He chuckles, sardonically. “I don’t have the first clue what I’m supposed to do to make you want to stay.”
Fucking Gunter ruining everything. I turn and lean on the car beside him, dropping my head back to face the fading blue sky. “I might be with the guy, but I’ve never wanted him.”
“Doesn’t stop it being complicated if you try to leave, does it?”
I sigh, and look across at Bronson. His face is so . . . disappointed. “If I knew somebody who makes me feel like you do existed, I would never have started anything with him.” Not that I would have had much choice. It was basically accept Gunter’s advances and learn to live with him, or sleep every night with one eye open, waiting for him to get frustrated enough to just take what he wanted anyway.
“I feel like we’ve known each other before, you know?” His gaze searches mine for understanding. “I only met you a few weeks ago, but you’re familiar.”
I nod. “I know what you mean, but it’s not possible, is it?” I give him a small smile, pained and sad. “We don’t even know a thing about each other besides our names.”
He flinches, and I can’t figure out why. “So let’s do it,” he challenges. “Spend time with me, and we’ll get to know each other.”
“How?” I ask. “I’ve got the whole English mafia over there watching my every move. They’ve probably sent somebody to see what’s taking you so long.”
He holds his hands out, wriggling his fingers. “Hand over your phone.”
“I can’t have your number in there.”
He frowns. “You’re kiddin’, right?”
I shake my head. “Unfortunately not. Gunter goes through it every chance he gets.”
“You get paper bills?”
My turn to frown. “No. Why?”
“So he won’t see your record, just what’s on your phone?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
He wiggles his fingers again with his hand held out. “Pass it over.”
After cursing at the black hole that is my purse, I locate the damn phone and hand it over. “What are you going to do?”
His fingers fly across the screen and a buzz sounds from his pocket. “I’m sending myself a message so I have your number, and”—he bites his top lip in concentration—“removing the message from your folders.” He waves the phone in the air before handing it back. “No trace.”
I laugh softly, shaking my head as I put it back in my purse. “Sneaky.”
“When it matters.” He smiles, making me hate the thought of returning to Eddie’s gazebo that much more.
“We better get back before someone finds where we’ve gone.”
“I guess.”
“It’s impossible, isn’t it,” I ask. “It’d never work.”
“Impossible is only a state of mind,” he teases, nudging my arm. “Live a little and take a risk.”
Take a risk. I feel like that’s all I’ve done since I ran away from my burning house—taken risks. I screw this one up, though, and I lose any chance at getting a square answer on what the hell my parents did to warrant Harris taking their lives. I look over and catch Bronson’s watchful eye. “Fine. Meet me tonight,” I say. “Just know that this is a bigger risk than you’ll ever realize for me.”
“It’s no light decision for me either, darlin’.” He stares ahead, worry clear in his furrowed brow.
Seeing my fears echoed in his expression remind me I’m not the only person who could stand to loose something here. I don’t know the first thing about Bronson, let alone where he’s come from. It could be just as risky for him to be seen pursuing me. The sooner we get time alone, the better. I want to know all there is to know about this handsome stranger. “If I give you a location, can you meet me there? Pick me up?”
“What you goin’ to do?” he asks, eyebrows raised. “Sneak out your bedroom window?”
I look him square in the eye and smile. “Yeah, I am.”
THE DEAL
Bronx
I try to keep my eyes off her on the walk back to Eddie, but I fail . . . miserably. Can I be blamed though when I have a woman as striking as her by my side? I’m done for when she stumbles as her heel sinks to heavily into the grass, causing her to instinctively reach out for something to steady her. Ryan’s tattooed hand wraps around my forearm as she rights herself, and a bashful smile creeps across her lips.
“Thank you,” she says quietly.
I miss the contact the second she pulls her hand away and walks on, albeit a little slower. I hang back for a few seconds before catching up, watching the way her jet-black hair shines like a raven’s feather in the sunlight, and wondering if this whole thing was a part of Eddie’s test.
It couldn’t be. Why? Because she seems so genuinely attracted? I’ve learnt the hard way over the years that women can be pretty fucking convincing when they want to be. Several grand lost to opportunistic whores would back that theory up. Who’s to say she isn’t just faking it as well, playing a part given to her by Eddie?
Maybe the rat is being played by another rat?
I shake my head as I jog to catch up to her, refusing to believe it could be the case. Ryan turns her head as I fall in to line beside her again, smiling, and it’s fucking genuine; the soft curl of her lips to the light in her eyes. There’s no way somebody could fake something so beautiful.
By the time we make it back to the gazebo, the sun has started its mid-afternoon decline. Raised voices drift toward us as we approach, and parents usher their children away from the direction of Eddie’s site with concerned looks on their faces.
Ryan’s pace increases, worry clear in her bright blue eyes. “Shit, this isn’t good.”
Gunter and Taylor are either side of a man who’s fighting their hold, trying to get at the old Pommy bastard where he sits on his throne. The man’s neck is corded with his rage, his arms flexing as he tries to pull free, screaming accusations about chalked product and being burned.
Eddie pushes from his seat as we arrive on the scene, marching towards the man. He punches the guy square in the nose, sending blood over his shirt. “Tommy, I want you to take a note of this man’s name. He’s being cut.” Eddie leans down in the now quiet man’s face and sneers. “You fuckin’ show ya ugly mug around here again tellin’ me how it is, you little dippin’ bastard, and I’ll fuckin’ pay your children a visit. You hear?”