Chapter Eleven #3
“For what?”
“Being irritating.”
“Ain’t a crime.”
“Should be.”
I step closer.
Twila steps back, but not because she’s scared.
She’s pissed.
And I like pissed-off Twila way too much.
“She ain’t coming back here.”
“I don’t care.”
“I don’t want her.”
“I don’t care.”
She hugs herself, which would be more convincing if she wasn’t glaring at the door Beth just walked through.
“Don’t love her.”
“I said I don’t care.”
“You keep answering awful fast.”
She shoves my chest.
“There. You feel better?”
“No.”
She shoves me again.
I catch both wrists, but the second she stops pushing, I release them.
Twila looks up at me.
“This ain’t about Beth.”
“No?”
“No.”
“What’s it about?”
“You.”
Her anger falters.
I leave my hands at my sides.
“You’re standing in my house half dressed, pissed off another woman touched me, after hiding from your own daddy instead of going home.”
Her chin lifts. “You kidnapped me.”
“Yeah.”
“You lied to me.”
“About what?”
“Plenty.”
“Probably.”
“You’re a criminal.”
“Definitely.”
“You’re infuriating.”
“Heard.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“I know.”
“And I’m not jealous.”
“Bullshit.”
She points at me. “I will leave.”
“Then leave.”
That stops her. The front door is behind me. No cuffs. No basement chain. No locked room.
Nothing holding her here.
I reach past her, turn the dead bolt I locked after Beth left, and pull the door wide before stepping completely away from it.
“Go.”
Twila looks at the open doorway.
Then at me.
“You think I won’t?”
“Know you can.”
“Don’t test me.”
“Ain’t a test.”
The words land between us.
Twila looks toward the door again. Doesn’t move.
I don’t close it. Don’t touch her. Don’t block the way. “You ain’t my hostage anymore,” I say.
Her eyes lift slowly to mine. “You ain’t my kidnapper?”
Everything inside me goes quiet. That line lands someplace I ain’t ready to inspect.
I lift one hand, slow enough for her to stop me, and brush a strand of blonde hair away from her face. She lets me.
“That supposed to make this better?” she asks.
“No.”
“What does it make it?”
I don’t know. Something that belongs to both of us instead of something I took. All answers likely to get me fucked six ways from Sunday.
“Complicated.”
Twila lets out a breathless laugh. Her palm settles against my chest. No shove this time. “You really don’t want her?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Twila.”
“What?”
“I was about two minutes from putting you through my mattress before she knocked.”
Her cheeks heat. “So?”
“So if you still need reassurance, I can provide a practical demonstration.”
She bites her lip. On purpose.
“Cocky.”
“Interested in my cock again?”
Her eyes drop to my mouth.
“Yes.”
That one word nearly sends the whole damn day straight back off the cliff. I bend toward her.
My phone rings. I stop an inch from her mouth. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
Twila closes her eyes. “I’m gonna shoot somebody.”
“Can’t. I took your gun.”
“Still holding that over me?”
“Forever.”
The phone keeps ringing.
I pull it out.
Bullet.
Every bit of heat leaves my body.
Twila sees it happen.
“What?”
I answer. “Yeah.”
Bullet’s voice comes hard through the speaker.
“We got trouble.”
I walk toward the kitchen. “What kind?”
“Somebody tried coming through the back of the clubhouse.”
My free hand closes around the edge of the counter. “For Kaylee?”
“Looks that way.”
“Who?”
“Don’t know. Took off before we got hands on him.”
“How’s she?”
“Scared.”
Twila is right behind me, close enough to catch half the conversation. She doesn’t ask me to put Bullet on speaker or demand the phone. She just moves within hearing distance, deputy instincts wiping every trace of jealousy from her face.
“Keep her inside.”
“No shit.”
“Double the doors.”
“Already done.”
“Legend know?”
“Yeah. Told me to keep you posted.”
I look at Twila. Her face has gone pale. She understands what this means before either of us says it.
Pearly Gates ain’t waiting anymore.
“Bullet.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t let her out of your sight.”
His answer comes without hesitation. “Ain’t planning to.”
I hang up.
Twila grips the back of a kitchen chair. “They came for her.”
“Looks like.”
“At the clubhouse.”
“Yeah.”
“Which means…”
She stops, working the facts the way I’ve watched her work a scene.
“They know she got out.”
“Yeah.”
“And they know the Kings have her.”
“Looks that way.”
Her eyes harden. “And if they know that…”
“They probably know you were there too.”
The room goes quiet except for the refrigerator humming behind us.
Twila swallows. Her hand tightens around the chair back until her knuckles pale.
For the first time since I met her, she looks genuinely scared.
I hate it.
I move toward her, then stop before touching her.
“You ain’t leaving this house alone.”
She looks up at me.
“If you decide you’re leaving, I’m asking you not to go alone. Not now. Not when whoever had Kaylee probably knows your face.”
Twila studies me for a second. Then nods. That scares me worse than an argument would’ve.
My phone buzzes again.
A message from Legend.
LOCK IT DOWN.
I look at Twila standing barefoot in my kitchen with bare legs and my fingerprints probably still warm on her skin.
My shirt is wrinkled from her fists. Her daddy is hunting for her.
Beth is threatening court. Kaylee is under club protection, and somebody connected to Pearly Gates just tried coming through our fucking doors.
Yet somehow the thing my brain keeps circling is what Twila said before Bullet called.
You ain’t my kidnapper.
Then what am I?
Fuck.
This stopped being simple a long damn time ago.
Now it’s fixing to get dangerous.