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JAMIE

M y body’s feeling as good as if I were flying across the water on a windsurf board. Whiskey’s partly to blame, for sure. But the taste of Sauce’s lips lingering on mine is the biggest contributor. Berry flavored lip balm… Women don’t need to carry guns when they can weaponize their smiles.

As I come around the corner of the bookshelves, I spot Clare standing near leather reading chairs with a collection of books stacked on an ottoman.

With a glance over her shoulder, she frowns. “The library is members only.” Turning back to her task of flipping through pages, she feigns ignoring me.

I stroll over and lean against the bookcase. Her mood means that Plan A is unlikely to work, but I’m gonna float it anyway. For her sake.

“Clare, let’s have a chat.”

“Not interested.”

“Did I ask if you were interested?” The chill in my voice causes her head to turn toward me. Plan B is elbowing its way in. I’m impatient to have this settled.

Her scowl darkens, pinching her features. “I’m not going to recommend Allendale.”

Drawing in a slow breath, I stare at her with a hard expression. She glares back, putting on her best impression of a high-powered lawyer. The trouble with posturing is there’s nothing to back it up when facing off against someone who’s not all talk.

My hand shoots out and grabs her throat. Her surprise takes a second to register as I squeeze, cutting off her voice and her breath.

I lean closer, so I’m whispering in her ear. “If you cross me, I will come for you. And you don’t have the juice to stop me from retaliating in a way that will leave you dead or disfigured.” I pause to let my words land like a hammer on the head of a nail.

Her eyes bulge, and her face reddens. As her fingers claw at my hand, I ease the pressure enough for her to suck in a breath. Then I tighten my grip again, letting air hunger induce another round of panic.

This time when I ease my grip she’s gasping, with watery eyes smearing her mascara. I hold her in place with one hand as her body sags, ready to drop to the ground.

When I speak, it’s with the finality of death. “You’ve got ‘clever girl in a private club’ power. The kind that lets you bully schoolgirls and get away with it. But I’m not a schoolgirl. I’m not even a clean-cut lad with a sport scholarship. That’s my cover . Know the power I’ve really got?”

Her head jerks, and wide eyes stare at me. With terror, the world narrows. Neither fight or flight is an option for her now. All she can do is listen and hope this will be over soon.

With her full attention on my voice and message, I lay it out for her.

“I’ve got a bullet with your name on it. And the experience to bury it in your skull.” Releasing her throat, I drop my hand. “Be smart. Or be dead.”