Page 22

“Was that a smile?”

“Not a chance.”

Heat sparks around us. Thatwasa smile.

I guess there’s a part of me operating on pure hormones right now. Because for the first time, I can see clearly that he’s kind of hot.

No. I thought that before. This man is very hot.

He’s not pretty like his brother Jude or classically handsome like their other brother, Eli. He’s not the normal prep-school trust-fund country club type of man I’ve always seemed to end up with, either.

He’s altogether different.

Handsome but rough around the edges. Rough hands, rough voice. Rough scruff across the chin I have to fight not to reach up and touch. Under that scowl, there’s an aura of strength I’ve never felt before. But it’s not just brute strength. It’s tightly wound anger, honed into this powerful, taut frame, and under that, the most remarkable thing.

“You care,” I whisper. I see the softness in his eyes, under all those layers of hard exterior.

He frowns even harder. “About what?”

About me.

But that’s ridiculous. He doesn’t know me. He cares about doing the right thing. Protecting the vulnerable. Rescuing stupid women who agree to go on dates with criminals as a favor to brothers who don’t care.

I drop my gaze. “I have to go. Can you please move out of my way? I’m freezing and tired and I just want to go home.”

He hesitates a moment longer, and I have the strangest thought: Griffin Kelly is a mistake. The kind of man you might remember years later as your favorite mistake.

“Fine,” he says, his voice low. But he doesn’t move out of my way. Instead, he reaches into his jacket and slips his hand into his breast pocket. He pulls out what looks like a business card. It’s on thick card stock, only there’s nothing on it except a single phone number. He holds it in two fingers, angling it at me.

I don’t take it.

“Sasha,” he says, lifting up my good hand. There are those rough fingers again, the warm palm as it cradles the back of my hand. He presses the card into it, wrapping my fingers around it with a gentleness I would have thought impossible from a man like him.

He looks me in the eye once more. This time, there’s no concern. There’s only seriousness. “If you ever feel unsafe—for any reason at all—call this number. Even if it’s just a feeling, call. You’re not alone, Sasha. Wherever you are, I’ll find you.”

I nod.

Finally, reluctantly, he steps aside. Then, before I move, I hesitate. Then I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss the rough stubble of his cheek. “Thank you,” I whisper, meaning it more than I’ve meant anything in my life.

When I walk toward the line of cabs across the street, I feel Griffin’s eyes on my back. I also feel his tentative grip on my hips as I did that, their warmth seeping through my wet dress. But most of all, I feel his words wrapping around me the way his hand wrapped around mine.

You’re not alone, Sasha. Wherever you are, I’ll find you.

CHAPTER6

Griffin

“Councillor Macklin’s a grade-A piece of shit for letting his sister walk into a date with a goddamned criminal.”

Ford tosses the file on McCrae’s forty-second-floor boardroom table. The soft clap of the paper on wood punctuates his sentence.

He and Lionel are sitting at the giant table while I’m standing by the window, my back to the New York City skyline. This meeting’s been going on for a full hour already, and I can’t sit still that long. Especially when my boss suddenly has selective hearing. Ford’s only repeating what I’ve said a hundred fucking times since we got here.

Lionel’s nostrils flare, but otherwise, he keeps his expression bland. He’s turning sixty this year, and it’s starting to show. The big man has a weariness about him, and besides the leathery skin and thinning hair, the broken capillaries on his nose show he hasn’t been handling the stress of life well. Part of me wants to feel sorry for him. To give him the benefit of the doubt, knowing what he’s been through.

But I went through it, too. I clench and unclench my fists, willing myself to at least stay calm.

“You’ve made your feelings clear, Jason,” Lionel says.