Page 40 of Willing Prey

“You and I are done. Forever.” I smile, or maybe just show my teeth. “So you might as well stay with Naomi. After all, you do make a great starter husband.” Then I grab for Shane’s phone, snatching it from his grip.

Keith lunges, but not for the phone. He catches me by the waist, yanking me to him.

I fight his hold, thrashing and writhing. “Don’t touch me.”

My heel catches on the rug and my balance wavers.

Crashing forward into Keith’s solid chest, I’m horrified when he doesn’t curse at me or try to take the phone back.

He wraps his arms around me in a skin-crawling embrace and chuckles.

The rough, throaty sound might as well be a gun cocking for the dread it sends through me. I made a mistake.

He wanted this.

He wanted me angry because it turns him on.

“Get off of me,” I spit, throwing my weight backward so hard he has to take a step to keep us from toppling over. Stomping my heel down, I try to drive it into his foot, but he knocks me away.

“Such a fighter.” His amusement makes me wrench myself backward again, but he’s ready this time, sweeping my legs off the ground and pulling me closer. “Glad to see I can still catch you, though.”

“Let go.” I’m seething, my voice more venomous than I knew it could be. “This is assault.”

“Relax. It’s a hug. You can hug your ex-husband.

” His face is too close to mine, his breath warming my cheeks.

The mocking undercurrent of Why are you overreacting?

in his words almost gets me. Almost makes me wonder if I’m blowing this situation out of proportion.

If he’s about to let me go and I’ll feel silly for flipping out.

After all, this technically is a hug. His hands don’t roam beyond my back, and while I know this has to be turning him on, he isn’t grinding against me. He’s just holding me.

I take a deep breath. Maybe I’m overreacting. Or maybe years of licking my wounds and biting my tongue have given me a taste for blood. None of that really matters, though. I do not want to be held. And that should be enough.

I slam my forehead into his nose so hard I see stars.

“Motherfucker,” he spits, releasing me to grab the bridge of his nose.

Unprepared for my freedom, I wobble sideways and catch my balance on a nearby table, hoping the cracking sound I heard on impact was Keith’s face and not my skull.

What happens next happens fast. The conference room door flies open with a bang, startling us both.

Shane’s voice thunders across the space. “What the fuck is going on in here?”

Reflexively, I feel like I’ve done something wrong.

Crossing the room in huge strides, Shane’s at my side.

Gently peeling my hand away from my forehead before I can even say, This isn’t what it looks like , he scans my face.

The circumstances have to look awful. I’m hidden away in a conference room with my ex-husband.

While usually a bloody nose would not suggest sexy shenanigans are afoot, Shane knows that headbutting falls under my definition of foreplay .

Will he think I was going to cheat on him?

“Are you okay?” he asks urgently, eyes roaming over my body. “What did he do?”

“Nothing happened,” I stammer. “I swear nothing happened. I only came in here because he texted me from your phone.”

“I know, I know,” he soothes. Before I can ask how he knows, he transforms from tender to terrifying, whirling to face Keith. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

As Shane stalks toward him, Keith squares up. I realize Shane’s words sounded more like a promise than a threat.

“No.” I hurry to grab Shane’s arm. “No fighting.”

There’s an irony to my statement, but I don’t get to appreciate it.

Caine lets out a sharp whistle as he enters the conference room. “How come we didn’t get invited to the private party?”

Margot’s right behind him, worry on her face, clutching a glass of white wine like it’s a weapon.

Relief washes over me; I won’t be trying to keep Shane and Keith apart by myself.

“What the fuck did you do?” Shane spits at Keith, ignoring Caine and Margot’s arrival.

“Just catching up.” There’s a sneer in Keith’s voice that doesn’t match the words.

Somehow, Shane tenses further. He’s going to shake me off and beat the shit out of Keith. Visions of lawsuits, newspaper articles, and his firm’s reputation being ruined flash before my eyes. “Please don’t,” I beg Shane.

When his gaze meets mine, he looks almost wounded, as if he thinks I don’t want Keith hurt.

“He would love a reason to sue you. Make a huge scandal out of it.” Easing myself in front of him, I rub his chest. “You have more to lose, and he knows that.”

Caine and Margot are standing just off to the side. “Listen to Claire,” Caine says, his voice too relaxed for the moment. “You know she’s right.”

I shoot him a grateful look, only to see that sometime since walking into the room, Margot’s mood has changed. Her expression prompts a double take, the grim resolve on her face making my stomach knot. I don’t get to ask if she’s okay.

With her usual gracefulness, she saunters over to Keith and stops in front of him, drink in hand.

He’s confused. We’re all confused. Keith opens his mouth, likely to ask what she’s doing.

The question never makes it past his lips.

Margot throws a left hook that makes his head snap to the side, teeth clicking together audibly.

I gasp. Caine murmurs, “Well, damn.” Shane, of course, doesn’t react, a land mine that hasn’t been set off yet.

Composing himself, Keith stares at her, as if he can’t believe what just happened.

I don’t think any of us can. Casually as can be, as if she didn’t just throw a ridiculously good punch, she tosses her drink in his face, muttering, “Sue me , jackass,” before turning to walk toward Shane and me.

Keith’s gone from stunned to livid, the tendons in his neck cording as he wipes his face. “You fuckin’—”

Caine’s in motion, clapping Keith on the shoulder.

The movement could look friendly if the muscles in Caine’s forearm weren’t flexing, the inked lines and leaves shifting.

“That is not a sentence you want to finish.” He’s relentlessly pleasant, as if he doesn’t realize Keith’s a downed power line, live and twitching.

My stomach tightens. Keith has a good three inches on Caine, and he went to the gym religiously when we were married. He’s also angrier than I’ve ever seen him.

“Ca—” I start, wanting to de-escalate the moment.

Shane squeezes my hip. He hasn’t relaxed, keeping me tucked against his side. Voice low and only for me, he murmurs, “Don’t. Let Caine have some fun.”

Fun?

Caine looks at Margot, who’s now standing beside me. “The carpet tripped you up, didn’t it, gorgeous?”

Margot scowls at “gorgeous,” but nods. “So sorry, I’m clumsy sometimes.”

When Caine smiles at Keith, I stop worrying Keith might hurt him. There’s something in his eyes that makes me think he wants Keith to swing on him, that it might be the highlight of his night.

“See?” he says. “Just an accident. You wouldn’t cuss a lady out over an accident; that would be a real bad look.”

“You people are fucking—”

“Language,” Caine interrupts, lightly squeezing the hand still resting on Keith’s shoulder.

Ignoring him, Keith shrugs Caine off.

Shane tenses beside me, but I tug on his jacket. “No. Let him go.”

Straightening his tie, Keith stretches himself up to every inch of his six-foot-four-inch frame and gives me a withering look. I steel myself for him to get the last word, but he doesn’t get the chance.

“Walk. Away.” Shane doesn’t speak, he snarls.

“While you still can.” His words are in a register so low that if he were talking to me, I’d be terrified.

But aimed at Keith, that voice has me wondering how quickly we can get everyone else out, because there’s a table that looks ready to have me bent over it.

Keith’s eyes narrow, and he squares back up toward Shane. “Is that a threat?”

Damnit.

I don’t want to spend tonight bailing Shane out of jail when I could be getting railed.

Again, Caine cuts the tension between Shane and Keith, sounding like he’s happy to be here.

“Of course it isn’t. He’s giving you solid advice.

Killer over here might trip and accidentally roundhouse you in the head if you stay too long.

” A glance shows he has an arm draped across Margot’s shoulders—she’s clearly “killer.” She’s wearing the expression of a cat that hasn’t decided if it’s going to purr or scratch, and if she had a tail, it would be twitching.

Still, she’s leaning into him the tiniest bit, and I’ve witnessed them interact enough to know if she told him not to touch her, he wouldn’t.

Interesting.

Keith’s weighing his options.

Shane’s voice is deadly when he speaks. “You’re done. Go.”

“Fine. But consider this my notice: I fucking quit.” Keith spits the words as if they hold more consequence than they do.

“Wonderful.” Shane’s I’m barely restraining myself from killing you voice still has me squeezing my thighs together. My pussy is ready to escort everyone out.

This way, folks, watch your step. Move it or lose it.

With a last, hateful look, and something that sounds like fucking prick muttered under his breath, Keith leaves.

Finally.

Shane’s bark of laughter at Keith’s closing insult blends with the slamming of the door. He still radiates tension, though; I grab his hand and squeeze.

Margot side-eyes us, then shrugs Caine’s arm off her shoulders. “Well, I could use another drink.” She turns to leave, sighing as she beckons him. “Come on, keep me company.”

He grins, falling into step beside her. “Want to go accidentally key Keith’s car?”

“What about accidentally cutting his brake lines?” she retorts, giving Shane and me a little wave.

“Thank you,” I call as they head toward the door. “Please don’t get arrested.” Next time she’s at the house, I’m finding out where she learned how to throw a punch like that.

Caine looks back at us over his shoulder . “I’ll keep her out of trouble.”

Unlikely. If she decided to torch this place, I’m pretty sure he’d find her a flamethrower. The second the door clicks shut behind them, one all-consuming need pushes everything else out of my head, the reason I came into this room in the first place.

Shane.