Page 66 of Ruthless Desires: Vol. One

We spend the rest of the bath in silence. I stroke her hair while she traces her fingers up and down my arm. It’s nice. Comfortable.

In bed, she tilts her head and watches me. “You’re worried. About Rhett?” There’s a hint of fear in her eyes.

“Don’t worry about it, love.”

She bites her lip, her brows furrowing. After a moment, she scooches closer and wraps her arms around me.

And that’s how we stay, until my eyes finally close and I drift off to sleep.

Chapter eleven

Rhett

I don’t want to bring Oliver with me.

Other than what a friend was able to dig up for me, this Adam guy is a mystery to us. He seems harmless, but I could be wrong. And I hate the thought of dragging Oliver into a situation without knowing what we’re walking into.

But when I head downstairs, he’s already waiting by the door, tucking his gun into the waistband of his jeans before shrugging on his coat.

I sigh. Maybe it’s for the best. He won’t sleep until I get back, anyway.

We climb into my truck, but I don’t start it. There’s something I’ve needed to say all day, but I haven’t been able to get him alone.

When he sees my expression, he runs a hand over his face. “Please tell me you haven’t been beating yourself up about this all day. You’ve been doing better, Rhett. It was just one slip-up.”

Of course he’s able to figure it out that quickly. When you’ve been with someone for over ten years, you learn them inside and out.

My knuckles ache as I grip the steering wheel too hard. “I don’t want to have slip-ups. You both—all three of you—deserve better.”

“Fuck,” he mutters. Then he leans over the console and grabs my face in his hands. “You were trying to protect her, okay? I shouldn’t’ve told her I’d be heartbroken if she decided not to stay. You were right to call me out on my bullshit.”

Not by snapping at you,I almost yell. But that would defeat the purpose of this already-failed attempt at an apology. “I shouldn’t’ve done it like that,” I grit out. “And I’m sorry.”

He touches his forehead to mine. “Apology accepted. I’m not holding it against you.”

Part of the knot in my chest unravels, but my skin still feels vulnerable and prickly. I press my lips to his before turning on the truck and pulling out of the garage.

When I pull up a couple of blocks away from Adam’s house, I let out a breath.Almost there.

“You good?” Oliver’s hand covers mine over the gearshift.

I work my jaw. Tighten my fist and then unclench it. “Just don’t let me kill him.”

He nods, and we start moving. The snow crunches under our boots, and I keep my breaths even. When we get to his street, I pull on my gloves.

Just stick to your list. Hurt him enough that he’ll never dare to touch anyone else again. And then get the fuck out.

His front door is locked, but I kick it down with ease, gun in hand. He’s in the front room, sitting in an old armchair, an open bottle of whiskey next to him. One of his hands is clutching a gun that’s pointed straight at my head.

“Get out,” he yells, standing. “Or I’ll shoot!”

Oliver swears behind me, and I hear the shot before it’s even registered in my mind that he’s jumped in front of me.

Panic seizes my chest until I see Adam stumble backward, clutching his arm. Blood soaks his sleeve.

Shit.The neighbors definitely heard that.

“Freddy’s on tonight,” Oliver says, watching as Adam’s knees hit the floor. “There’s no way he won’t be the one who gets called to the scene.”