Page 90 of Desperate Crimes

“I fucking got this,” Nico growls.

Sammy pauses a beat. Then, he takes Aella’s hand, draws her into his embrace, and they leave.

The others go too. They all just slip away one by one, and the rest of the bar seems to go back to its own business.

He feels big. Heavy. The weight of his hurt, of his disappointment in me? It’s so heavy, I feel like I’m gonna collapse.

Finally, he speaks, and even though his words are short, it’s like forgiveness.

“You left.”

“I went home.”

He glances at the table where I’d been sitting with my girls, then back at me.

“And now you’re out. Laughing. Drinking.”

“Is that a crime?”

“No,” he says, low and lethal. “But leaving me is.”

I blink. Glance to the side. I see them. Still there.

They didn’t leave like I thought.

Clementine is with Connor now. Aella’s with Sammy. And Cora and Jade complete their circle.

The girls are frozen in place, watching us from afar like we’re a soap opera come to life.

I think I hear Jade mutter something like, “Is it weird that I’m turned on?” and Clementine shushes her.

“I told you,” I say, stepping close enough that only he can hear me. “I have a life, Nico. You don’t get to just take that from me.”

He grits his teeth, nostrils flaring.

“Take from you? I gave you everything.”

“How? When? You didn’t say a word.”

“You weren’t listening, Princess. But you will now.”

His hand circles my wrist. I pull against it to no avail.

“I won’t go with you.”

“Yes, you will. I will drag you back if I have to,” he whispers, deadly quiet.

The bar is loud—too loud for a weekday.

Montclair’s always a little too cool for its own good, and this trendy spot, with its Edison bulbs and overpriced cocktails, is no exception.

The air smells like citrus zest, gin, and too much perfume. Laughter rings out from a bachelorette party to our left. A group of businessmen snort and jest loudly, making obscene jokes.

But none of that registers.

Because Nico Fury Jr. is standing in front of me like something I dreamed of once upon a time. The perfect antihero. A villain in tailored black and inked forearms, his sapphire gaze pinning me to the floor.

“Don’t test me.”