6. Shadow #3
“Most people we deal with? They break fast. Cry, beg, try to bargain their way out.” I stub out the cigarette on the railing. “You? You’ve got fire. Even scared, even trapped, you’re still fighting.”
“What else am I supposed to do?”
“Exactly what you’re doing. It’s going to keep you alive.”
She turns to face me fully now. Those green eyes catch the fading light, bright and sharp. “Is that what you tell yourself? That keeping me here is keeping me alive?”
“It’s the truth.”
“Your truth, maybe. Not mine.”
“Fair enough.”
We’re close now. Closer than we should be. I can see the pulse beating in her throat, the way her breathing’s changed—shallow, quick. She’s aware of me the same way I’m aware of her.
This is dangerous territory.
With any other woman, I’d have already made my move. Would’ve charmed my way into her bed by now, had my fun, moved on. That’s what I do. That’s who I am.
But this one’s different. This one matters in ways I don’t want to examine too closely.
“Shadow—” she starts.
I reach up, slow enough that she could pull away if she wanted. Brush my thumb along her cheekbone. Her skin is cold from the evening air, soft underneath.
She inhales sharply but doesn’t pull back.
“This is a bad idea,” I say quietly.
“What is?”
“This. You. The fact that I’m standing here wanting things I shouldn’t want.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “What do you want?”
Honest answer? I want to kiss her. Want to see if she tastes as good as I think she does. Want to feel her melt against me the way women do when I put my hands on them. Want to take her upstairs and make her forget about everything except the way I can make her feel.
But that can’t happen.
“Doesn’t matter what I want,” I tell her. “Matters what’s smart.”
“And what’s smart?”
“Keeping my distance. Remembering you’re not mine to touch.”
Something flickers across her face. Not disappointment. Something more complicated.
“I don’t belong to anyone,” she says, voice sharp. “Not you. Not my ex. Not anyone.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
I let my hand drop from her face, but I don’t step back. Don’t put the distance between us that I should.
“I’ve been around men like you my whole life,” she continues, eyes locked on mine. “Men who say whatever sounds good in the moment. Men who make promises they have no intention of keeping. Men who want things and take them regardless of the consequences.”
“I’m not taking anything from you.”
“Aren’t you? You took my freedom. My ability to get back to my son.” Her voice doesn’t rise but there’s steel underneath. “So don’t stand here and pretend you’re different. Don’t act like you give a shit about what I want.”
She’s right. She’s absolutely right.
And it pisses me off that she’s right.
“You’re right,” I say. “I don’t know you. You don’t know me. And maybe in another life, another situation, we’d have—” I stop myself.
“We’d have what?”
I look at her. Really look at her. At the way her hair’s falling loose from the ponytail. At the defiance in her eyes even when she’s terrified. At the mouth I very much want to kiss and know I shouldn’t.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say finally.
“Because it’s not smart.”
“Because you’re not some random woman I can fuck and forget about. You’re a complication. A witness. Someone we’re trying to keep alive long enough to figure out an exit strategy.” The words taste bitter. “That’s all this is. All this can be.”
“Then why are you still standing so close?”
Good fucking question.
“Because apparently I’m an idiot,” I mutter.
And then I’m moving, closing the last inch between us. My hand slides into her hair at the nape of her neck, fingers tangling in the loose strands. She sucks in a breath, eyes going wide, but she doesn’t pull away.
Her pulse races under my fingertips. I can feel it, rabbit-fast and wild.
“Tell me to stop,” I say, giving her one last out.
She doesn’t take it. Just stands there, lips parted, eyes searching mine for something I’m not sure I can give her.
I lean in.
Slow. Deliberate. Giving her every chance to change her mind.
Her breath hitches. Mine does too.
I’m a breath away. Maybe less. Close enough to count her eyelashes. Close enough to see the gold flecks scattered through the green of her eyes. Close enough to feel the warmth of her breath on my lips. My other hand comes up, fingers trailing along her jaw. She shivers—not from cold this time.
This is it. The moment. Cross this line and there’s no going back.
The sound of tires on gravel reaches our ears, Hawk and Razor returning to the cabin, and Jade jerks back like she’s been burned. I step away quickly, putting space between us, trying to get my head back in the game.
What the hell was I thinking? Kissing her? Now?
I look at Jade. Her face is flushed, her breathing quick. She looks as rattled as I feel.
“Go inside,” I tell her. “Upstairs. Stay in your room until one of us comes to get you.”
She nods and hurries inside. I hear her footsteps on the stairs, quick and light.
I take a breath, trying to center myself. That was close. Too close. I almost kissed her. Nearly crossed a line that can’t be uncrossed.
What the hell is wrong with me?