I helped my mom wash her hands and under her nails multiple times and forced her to change her clothes, and she finally crawled into bed. I collected the needle on her bedroom floor and another in the living room then dumped them in one of the neighbor’s trash cans. After going back in and making sure she had actually fallen asleep, I grabbed the bags she’d come back with, shoved them into my pocket, and headed out.
“Take them back,” I said through gritted teeth when I neared him.
Beck glanced over his shoulder. Fear flashed through his eyes when he hissed, “You think you can demand stuff like that?”
“Yes. Now take them back.” I shoved my open palm into his shoulder. “How could you? After what you’d given her earlier, you gave her more than that a few hours later? Beck. I can’t afford this shit, you know that. Now take it back.”
“I can’t,” he said low, but stern. “Go home. Now.”
“Don’t tell me what to do or where to go.”
That fear now burned in his eyes. “Jess, leave.”
My body stilled as I tried to take in our surroundings, but there was nothing.
Just me. Just Beck.
I shook my head in quick jerks. “Take the bags back.”
“I fucking can’t. For all I know, you’re bringing back bags filled with powdered sugar.”
My brow pinched. “Beck, she was out at night. She screams if she sees the sun set, but you didn’t think twice about her being outside when it’s dark? She was so high she believed some idiots when they told her it was still daylight. She took the drugs for those men, and you know they weren’t offering to pay—because who would when she has her deal with you?” I tried shoving the bags at him, but he swatted my hand away. “I can’t afford this, and I can’t have it in the house. If she wakes up and sees it, she’ll use and use and use until it’s gone. Beck, please.” My voice cracked on the last word, but I couldn’t find it in me to care.
I’d already failed in front of Beck too many times tonight anyway. Why keep pretending the seemingly fearless girl had no fears when he’d known differently for years?
“Jess, for the love of God . . . leave.”
“Is this payback? Has all of this been to get back at me for not giving you what you wanted all those years ago?” I slammed my open palm into his chest again and again until he snatched my wrist and pulled me close. “That was six years ago, Beck. This is my mom’s life you’re ruining. It’s my life.”
His free hand snaked underneath my hair and secured to the back of my neck, forcing my head closer to his. “If you ever listen to me, listen now, Jessica. Turn around and go home.”
My gaze locked with his, my lungs protesting the lack of oxygen as I once again tried to hear or feel anything or anyone else.
Nothing.
Just us.
I took in a shuddering breath and shoved away from him. Throwing the bags at him, I bit out, “I refuse to pay for this. Give me a week, Beck. Just give me a fucking week. I need the break to pay you off and maybe buy groceries for the first time this month.”
I took a step back as unease suddenly raced across my skin and gripped my spine.
There, I thought with a rush of panic.
In the time it took to take another step back, I’d already slid my knife from its spot at my hip. Flipping it open, I turned so the blade arced through the air at the person behind me as I spun—
And came to a halt with my blade less than an inch from the base of his neck.
I didn’t need to look down to know he had the tip of a blade pressed to my chest. I could feel it.
I swallowed thickly—Oh.
And the length of another to my throat. Hadn’t felt that at first. I forced my lips into a wicked grin.
Beck was shouting . . . or maybe whispering.
He was yelling at the chillingly beautiful man in front of me . . . or maybe he was scolding me.
I wasn’t sure.
I couldn’t focus on him or his words.
All I saw, all I knew, was the man I was having a silent showdown with.
Light green eyes set in a violent glare. Strong brow and nose, and full lips curled in a sneer. Dirty-blond hair pulled back in a low, haphazard bun. Muscular shoulders and a broad chest that strained against his shirt while still remaining lean.
Every piece of him added to his overwhelming presence.
Masculine, hard, dangerous.
But those eyes . . .
He was looking at me as though he hated me. It wasn’t the way Beck looked at me—like he hated me for the girl I had turned into . . . hated me for spurning him and giving myself to other men.
This man’s hatred was as pure as it was overpowering, and it fascinated me all the more, considering this was the first time he’d ever seen me.
Being mindful of the knife against my throat, I peered down at the thick blade pressed intimately just under my breasts. “Well, well, well . . . we sure don’t waste any time with going for the kill, now do we?”
“You’re alive,” he informed me with a low rumble.
My grin widened to hide the way his gravelly voice sent a shot of unwanted heat through my body. “And here I was, just going to nick you with my disease-covered knife.”
He didn’t move, but his eyes narrowed.
I lifted one of my shoulders. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to wash it in a tub of bleach after making the last guy bleed. I had business to take care of, as I’m sure you heard. Speaking of hearing things,” I continued quickly, not giving him the chance to speak, “it’s not nice to eavesdrop. It’s also not nice to sneak up on people. And while we’re on the subject of sneaking up on people, you need to work on remaining silent.”
“Jesus fuck, Jessica,” Beck mumbled behind me. “Stop talking. Please stop talking.”
I dropped my knife and closed it, but my movements slowed when I started putting it back into its place at my hip. Lifting a brow, I said, “It’s polite when someone drops their knife for you to drop yours as well.”
The knives pressed harder against me, forcing me back until I was pressed against the wall. He took another step toward me, bringing us closer than before, and I looked at him from under my eyelashes with a taunt on my tongue.
“Kieran, no,” Beck yelled, cutting off anything I may have said as he rushed toward us. “Don’t touch her. That’s Jess . . . this is Jess.”
The blades were immediately withdrawn so they weren’t pressed to me, but were still close enough that I couldn’t risk moving.
I forced back every impulse to demand to know why Beck had told this man about me at all. But while I may have made stupid decisions in my life, I wasn’t stupid enough to take my eyes off the man holding my life in his hands.
So I stood there, waiting to see what his next move would be while my heart rate betrayed my calm exterior.
Each rough breath forced my chest to brush against the tip of his knife like a lover’s caress. Something the man’s eyes lingered on when his gaze slowly moved over my body.
It wasn’t the look I got so often. It wasn’t the look of a man unable to stop himself from taking in what he so badly knew he should look away from. It was a look that was as assessing as it was disapproving.
Asshole.
Once his eyes were locked with mine again, he curled his lip and spoke in that same, low tone. “I’ll drop when I’m ready.”
“Ooo, someone likes it with a side of crazy.” I touched the knife pressed to my chest, and mumbled nonchalantly, “Okay then. Ten per minute. Money increases once we actually start doing something. Then again . . . maybe I should raise your price since you’re involving knives.”
That hatred from before swirled in those eyes—and I wondered for a moment if I might have preferred the judgment and disapproval to the look he was giving me then . . .
Because that hatred shook something inside me that I hadn’t been aware of before that night, and I wanted to go back to being unaware of it. Needed to.
“I’m not paying for you,” he bit out, as though he was disgusted by the thought.
“Huh. Sounds eerily like what I was trying to tell Beck. In that case, this has been so much fun, and I would say we should do it again, but, well . . .” I shrugged and let my eyes drag to where Beck was staring at me with a horrified expression before looking back into a pair of lethal eyes. “He pisses me off and you’re just a little boy who likes to play with his knives because you can’t satisfy other needs. So, I think I’ll pass on the repeat playdate, boys.”
Rage flashed across his face. He looked like he would have killed whoever was in front of him—no matter the person—but stopped himself just before Beck snapped, “Jess.”
When I pushed against his wrists, he slowly withdrew the knives, but only just enough for me to move out from between him and the wall.
I glanced at the knife that had been pressed to my throat and ran my finger along it. Sucking in a breath through my teeth, I made a face. “Yikes, you might want to sharpen these.”
He looked stunned for all of two seconds before his eyes narrowed again.
“Hey, just trying to help out the amateur.”
“Jesus fuck, Jess,” Beck said as he rubbed his hands over his face.
I danced away from the men, and in a singsong voice called out, “Good night, boys.” Then I tipped my head and dropped my voice so it wouldn’t carry to them. “Pleasure officially meeting you, Nightshade.”
It wasn’t until I was on the next street that I allowed myself to release the breaths I’d been holding in. The relief was so great when the air rushed from my lungs that it sounded like a pained moan.
I pulled in quick, ragged breaths as I forced myself to calm and finally skimmed through the wallet I had picked as I’d danced away from that dangerously beautiful man.
I didn’t glance at the name or address on the ID, and I didn’t reach for the credit cards or cash. I didn’t want his money, and I’d known who he was and where he lived since I first started trying to figure out Beck’s game.
A defeated huff burst from my chest when I didn’t find what I was looking for. Curling my fingers tightly around the wallet, I started home, unable to keep the memory of Kieran’s stunned face from my mind or the grin from my lips.