Page 170 of Ruthless Creatures

“Will it be messy?”

“What do you mean?”

“Will there be other guys fighting you to be in charge now that Max is gone?”

She chews her lip. Her brows are drawn together. I’m not sure what she really means for a moment, until it dawns on me that she’s worried.

About my safety.

About me.

Whatever this emotion is that’s expanding like a hot balloon inside my chest, I’ve never felt it before.

My voice comes out gruff. “No. There will be a vote, but that’s a formality.”

She nods, glancing away. In a small voice, she says, “That’s good.”

It takes every single ounce of self-control I have not to throw this goddamn glass of wine I’m holding to the floor and crush my mouth to hers. I need to taste her so much I’m almost salivating.

She senses it. Looking up at my face, her cheeks color. She glances away again, swallowing.

“I need to talk to my parents. They probably think I had a mental breakdown. I was shouting like a lunatic when I called them.”

I keep my voice gentle, so I don’t scare her away with a needy growl. “Of course. I’ll give you some privacy. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

I turn to walk away, but she stops me by saying my name.

When I turn back to her, I see how hard she’s trying to hold it together. Her lower lip is quivering and her face is pale, but her shoulders are straight and she’s standing tall.

She says, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Saving my life.”

We stare at each other. The air between us crackles.

I say softly, “I told you, baby. It’s my duty and pleasure to take care of you.”

Then I turn around and walk away, leaving her to decide if that’s enough to make up for all my other sins.

It’s too bad I’m not the kind of man who prays.

I could really use a higher power’s help right now.

FORTY-FOUR

NAT

In the frantic call I made to my parents before I left Tahoe, I told them that an ex-boyfriend I dated for a while made threats that he’d go to their house and chop them up with a machete unless I got back together with him.

Dramatic, I know, but it was effective.

They love to watch true-crime documentaries. My mother’s been expecting someone to break into their house and murder them for years.

So when I call them back and tell them that the alleged ex was arrested and is in jail, she almost sounds disappointed.

When she asks me how everything else is going, I say, “Great.”