Page 37 of Executing Malice (Jefferson Rejects #4)

There is arrogance in his curled lips. In the way he meets my gaze like he knows he’ll win. I’m almost amused by how wrong he is.

“I’m going to take you to dinner. I’m thinking we leave at five. There aren’t any suitable places here so we’ll have to drive to Mayfield. We can get a hotel—”

I put a hand up to stop him. “No.”

No being a full sentence doesn’t seem to be something in his vocabulary when he simply stares at me like I just broke out in Klingon. His head cocks to one side and he crinkles his brow in sheer confusion.

“We can get dinner at the hotel if—”

Good God.

“No to all of it.” I straighten and fix him with the full weight of my seriousness.

“I will not go out with you. I definitely will not fuck you. If anything, your proposal is offensive and unwanted. So, unless you want to open an account or make some other bank related inquiry, I’ll ask you to leave. ”

A tick forms in his temple. The rapid flicker of a vein that reminds me of a fat worm. All that boyish charm is gone. The mask slipping just a flicker of a heartbeat before it snaps back into place with practice and he smirks.

“Funny. I was told you were pretty easy.”

I feel the prickle, the kiss of outrage before I catch myself. “Let’s say that’s true. How embarrassed are you that you got turned down?”

He’s not smiling anymore.

There is cutting hatred in the narrowing of his eyes that drill into mine, but I don’t flinch. I don’t look away. I meet his poisonous scowl with a raised eyebrow and a challenge to do his best.

“I heard you were difficult. No wonder you’re alone.”

I click my tongue and fold my arms. “A difficult whore. That’s me. Now, leave.”

His lips pull back over his teeth. Not quite a smile, but a mix of amusement and disdain. His head tips back so he’s peering down the length of his nose at me.

He scoffs like he thinks it might hurt my feelings. “You have no idea how badly you’ve fucked up. Shame because I think you and I would have been perfect.”

“Gross,” I mutter before I can stop myself .

He chuckles, the sound sharp as a bed of nails raking down my back. “You’ll change your mind. I’ve always been incredibly patient when I want something.”

“You should look into getting a hobby,” I tell him. “When a girl says no, it means no.”

“We both know you enjoy it when you have no choice.”

I feel myself physically recoil. “That’s disgusting. Get out.”

His hands drop into his pockets and he turns on his heels like he’s actually going to listen. He even strolls all the way to the door and stops.

“Maybe I’ve been playing this all wrong.”

I watch with growing apprehension as he flips my lock into place, sealing me in with him.

My fingers reflexively tighten around my phone even as I gingerly set it down and flip the screen open. I glance away only briefly to find my contacts and Reed’s number. It’s the first one at the top and I hit call just as my intruder turns to face me.

I turn my phone over even as I hear Reed’s voice on the other end.

“What are you doing?” I demand, keeping my voice even, but high. “People are going to notice if the bank doors are locked. ”

He starts back towards me with that same easy stride. “I didn’t want any interruptions while we chatted, especially when you won’t even grab a cup of coffee with me.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re giving creepy stalker vibes,” I counter, knowing full well Reed will have some words for me when he finally arrives for antagonizing the crazy person.

“I’ve been asking about you. The people here really are so friendly.

So eager to be heard.” He reaches my counter and idly picks at the corner of the paper cocooning the flowers.

“You’ve had an exciting life, haven’t you?

Abandoned. Memory gone. All alone to be raised by strangers. How does that feel?”

Fucking Jefferson.

There’s usually a rule about talking to outsiders, but someone sure spilled their guts about me to this asshat.

“How does it feel being incapable of accepting a rejection like a man?” I counter.

He chuckles. “You know, you and I would be perfect together. We’re both the same.”

“Do I also make your skin crawl?”

He hums with quiet meditation. “I think you should let me show you this time. I bet I can give you exactly what you need.”

I’m not scared, though I know I should be.

I know Reed is on his way. There isn’t a doubt in my mind of that fact.

I also know Dante will be returning soon and he will break the window to get to me.

But it’s the confidence I have in myself, the knowledge that I can easily fuck him up that keeps the panic at bay.

It doesn’t matter that he’s bigger, possibly stronger.

There is a certainty at the back of my mind that I can overpower him just long enough for help to arrive.

“I think you need to take the L and fuck off,” I tell him calmly. “This is embarrassing.”

“I think we should take this time to—”

I don’t get to hear his decision when a sharp rapping sound reverberates across the glass. Reed, clad in his uniform, deputy badge gleaming, motions for the door to get unlocked.

There is no patience or mercy in his cold, blue eyes fixed on the prick at my counter. His one hand stays at his belt, over his gun, the other cracks with five knuckles into the glass.

“Open. Now!” he mouths.

To my surprise, my intruder strolls up to the door like he has all the time in the world and nimbly flips the latch.

He pulls open the door and slips out onto the sidewalk with Reed who immediately grabs him by the shirt front.

He says something right before shoving him around just to slam him face first into the glass.

Our eyes meet as Reed is slapping the cuffs on him and he smirks like we’re sharing a secret .

It takes all of five minutes for Reed to stuff him into the back of his cruiser and return to the bank, face a mask of fury.

“You okay?” He stalks over with wide, powerful strides. “Did he hurt you?”

I shake my head and open my mouth to answer. “No, I’m okay—”

“Good, because I’m going to kill you! What the hell were you thinking antagonizing him like that?”

I exhale because I expected this.

“He started it, and I wasn’t scared—”

He points a finger at my nose. “We’re going to talk. We’re going to have a lengthy discussion on why it’s a stupid idea to piss off the guy holding you hostage.”

I roll my eyes. “I wasn’t being held—”

His scowl only deepens. “Later.” With that threat issued, he whips out his pen and pad from the front pocket of his shirt and flips it open. “Tell me what happened.”

I start from the beginning.

I start from the moment he smacked my car with his door and played stupid. I accidentally forget to mention where I stabbed his tires and skip right over to him confronting me about them because there’s a good chance he will tell Reed and I won’t get in trouble for hiding anything.

“Did you?” Reed cuts me off with his cop face .

I pluck up the flowers and chuck them into the bin. Then, I take an unnecessary amount of time dabbing the damp stains with a tissue.

“Of course not,” I grumble. “How would I even do something like that?”

Reed is watching me when I hazard a glance in his direction. “Leila.”

I spear my hips with both fists. “Reed?” I shoot back.

“Fuck me,” he groans, rubbing a palm over his face. “What’s wrong with you?”

I’m a bit offended by his lack of trust. His immediate assumption that I’m to blame.

“Are you ignoring the part where he purposefully slammed his door—”

“Then you come to me and I deal with him. Do you realize how hard you made this on yourself?”

“He can’t prove anything.”

Reed sighs and shakes his head. “Stay away from him.”

The unnecessary statement has me staring at him, dumbfounded. “I’m not the one who keeps showing up at his job, Reed.”

He simply shakes his head, the end of his pen adding to his disappointment with every rap on his pad .

After what feels like a million years, he exhales and looks away. “Just stay away from him. I’ll fix this.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him again that I didn’t do anything, but he’s already stalking from the bank and I’m left standing here feeling like a chastised child.

It hurts.

His disbelief. His refusal to believe me. Yes, I may have been the one to escalate the situation, but he started it. Maybe Reed is right and I should have gone to him instead of retaliating, but I wasn’t thinking in the moment. I let my temper get the better of me and that’s on me.

But none of that matters.

Dante is still missing and Reed is too pissed at me to listen.

Plus, Dante isn’t a child. He would need to be missing for twenty-four hours before Reed can even do anything.

Most likely, I’ll be told he probably got what he wanted and left me, which I know isn’t true.

If Dante doesn’t come back, it’s because the Lady’s Tea Garden did something to him.

I’ll kill them.

It’s not even a question.

If they hurt him, or scared him off, I will hunt each of them down one at a time.

I’ll peel their skin off with a potato peeler, fry each strip and feed it to them.

I’ll keep them alive and make them cut pieces off each other until there’s nothing left but chunks of severed meat.

They think they can keep doing this, hurting people to maintain some prehistoric belief, well, they picked the wrong man.

I pace to the windows and stand watching the road, thumb nail caught between my teeth.

All moments from earlier have left my mind like I wasn’t held temporarily hostage at the bank by a lunatic with a God complex.

In my mind, he means less than getting bitten by a mosquito.

Irritating, but forgettable. Only thing that matters now is finding Dante.

I’m ready to grab my bag, get into my car and drive all over Jefferson until I find a man on a bike when I hear it. The faint growl of machine. The shriek of tires on asphalt.

My heart is in my throat before I even wrench open the door and tumble out onto the sidewalk. It cracks against my ribs, a persistent hammering of excitement that only increases when I spot him turning down Church Avenue. Big and dark, and beautifully in one piece.

I don’t wait for him to cut the engine.

I don’t check for incoming cars.

I’m not worried about leaving the bank open and unattended as I sprint the distance like I’ve known this man my entire life. Like it’s perfectly normal to be this scared over a complete stranger.

He barely gets his helmet off when I throw my arms around him .

“Leila?”

His hold closes around me. It twines tight across my middle, and I’m lifted bridal style up into his lap.

I don’t give a shit who’s watching.

I don’t care what people might say.

I hold him with a ferocity that is probably cutting circulation, but he’s not stopping me, and I’m a bit woozy with relief.

“Baby?” he murmurs into the curve of my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

It does tickle my brain to tell him about Reed and the asshole pissing me off.

I know he’d offer his brand of justice, which I would approve of, but it would make things harder with Reed.

He’s already upset with me. Plus, I don’t want Reed to arrest Dante for murder.

I feel that might put a dent in their relationship and — since they’re both important to me — I want them to get along.

It’s a rational decision to let it go and hope that Reed will talk sense into the guy and get him to leave me alone.

“I thought they got you,” I breathe into his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut tight.

“Who got me?” Dante asks.

I think about what he’d called Dolores and company that first day and think how accurate the description is.

“The garden gnomes. ”

His big hands move along my back, through my hair. It’s such a soothing, familiar gesture, I’m helpless to stop myself from sinking fully into him.

“Do I need to take care this?” he asks quietly into my temple.

I take a deep breath and reluctantly shake my head. “It won’t change anything.” I lift my face and peer back into his searching eyes. “It’s like a tree root. It expands so far and deep, you’d never get it all.”

He’s staring into my face with a mixture of confusion and concern, and I realize, he has no idea what I’m talking about. Because of course he doesn’t. This isn’t normal behavior. Things like this are only ever written about in fiction, but living in Jefferson long enough, you see it first hand.

Oh, it’s not often or blatant. We don’t have lynchings in the streets. But that only makes it more horrifying. Sinister. It’s the knowledge that they’ll come in the night, under the cloak of darkness and destroy an entire family.

I don’t think they murder anyone, but the ‘guilty’ party always just disappears.

I don’t want Dante on their list.

“You need to stop parking here. In fact...” I straighten in his lap, caught up in my rapid brain fire. “You should stay at the house. ”

“Fuck, no.” His expression darkens into one of stubborn defiance. “I’m not running from a pack of vultures.”

I don’t know how to explain to him that those vultures have more power than the CIA and are more dangerous than any gang. Being old and seemingly harmless fools a lot of people.

“They’ll hurt you,” I murmur softly. “You’re not one of them and they don’t like that.”

Dante snorts. “They have no idea who they’re dealing with, sweetheart.” His fingers close under my jaw, firm but gentle, holding my face to his. “Where’s my girl who set the neighbor’s shed on fire to make a point?”

I blink, horrified. “I set someone’s shed on fire?”

I have to fight to keep my voice low when it bursts out of me.

My avenging angel smirks, dark and predatory. His eyes pull me into their abyss, daring me to blink.

“You think I’m the only psychopath in this relationship?

” He chuckles and kisses me slow and deep.

“You just don’t remember what a little demon you are.

” He kisses me harder, demanding everything until I can’t breathe, only to suck my bottom lip until I moan.

“We don’t run, baby. We burn shit to the fucking ground. ”