Page 124 of Diamond In The Rough

“I think you would do anything to go back and act differently. Because we know now, with time and space, that she was not a threat to us the way you thought she was. She was just a threat to your heart.”

“Dude!”

“She caught you off guard the way no one has done in the past. And you acted impulsively, hiding behind a curtain of ‘I’m protecting my family’. Now you understand living without your heart is about as much fun as living without your limbs. It fucking hurts. It sucks.”

“You can stop now.”

“It’s not too late to fix things.” He taps my arm right where it was broken not all that long ago. “You can apologize. Hand her a knife and let her get a little payback.” His eyes glitter against mine. “The new wounds won’t hurt nearly as much as the pain of not having her in your life.”

“I raped her, Lix. That’s unforgivable.”

“You touched her,” he grinds out. “You invaded her personal space, yes. But you did not rape her.”

“Lix—”

“I’m not here to pick apart the degrees of non-consent. Touching without permission is not okay. We both know that. Of all the people on the planet, of all the sons born to a prick, we know that. But what you did is forgivable. You just have to tell her you’re sorry.”

“No.” I push up to stand, scraping my chair back against the floor so it squeals into the void. Then fixing my sleeves and smoothing my jacket, I look back at my brother and shake my head. “She was part of my world for weeks, Lix. Weeks. And in that short time, she learned firsthand what a Malone truly is beneath the shiny exterior. She deserves to hate me. It’s better this way: a clean break for her means she’ll heal sooner.”

“The fuckin’ martyr. Look at my face.” He jerks two thumbs up to point back at himself. “This is what surprise looks like.”

I firm my lips and stop myself from swinging out and smacking him. “This conversation is over. If she comes anywhere near me, I’ll continue to show her my ass. Remind her why she’s better off going back to Roscoe.”

“Not a martyr, then, but a fuckin’ eunuch. I assure you, bro, once I got a taste of Christabelle, not even the devil himself could convince me to share her with another man.”

“That’s nice for you.” I circle my chair and push it back in, all to avoid looking my brother in the eyes and letting him see the nausea I desperately swallow down. “I’m not sharing her with anyone. I’m keeping her safe. That’s what we do for the people we love. I’m going downstairs. Gonna walk a lap of the club and make sure things are secure.”

He scoffs in the back of his throat, mocking me. “Pussy.”

27

TIIA

HIS WORLD VS MY WORLD

“We’ve got nothing!” Agent Dickerson—his name applies in more ways than one—slams a file to the boardroom table in downtown Manhattan, and presses his hands down beside it, standing over me and sneering. “Nothing, Hale!”

“My cover was blown.” I sit back to steal a little space, refusing to breathe his coffee-breath this late in the afternoon. Not today. “I was careful, sir. The Malones ran a deeper background check on me.”

“Your cover was solid!”

“My cover was blown by someone with better IT skills than those hired by the FBI. Micah Malone ran his prelim checks via his first computer guy, and everything came up fine. Then he went to someone else, I guess, and it all came crashing down.”

And the fact that he got a second opinion stings a little. The fact that he was claiming love one minute, and checking up on me the next, devastates.

But those are feelings, and I’ve decided I have no room for such frivolities.

“I did nothing to expose myself, sir. It was our documentation.”

“Couldn’t be that you literally exposed yourself, huh?” He shoves up straight and looks over my shoulder at Roscoe, who sits stony faced on my left. “You got soft,” he presses, his eyes flickering back to me. “Got intimate with a target. Things sounded pretty damn cozy to me. Maybe you chickened out and told him what you are.”

“Easy now,” Roscoe growls. “You’re making it personal, Dickerson. Back up.”

“She made it personal!” The prick points straight between my eyes, almost touching my forehead. A threat, in any language, any time. And one I like to think Micah himself would murder for. “She cozied up with the fuckin’ mafia after we had an in with the family. And now?—”

“I am the in!” I bite back. I know I shouldn’t. Insubordination. Insolence. Blah, blah, blah. But I’m done being disrespected, and I’m doubly done with him shouting in my already tender ears. “I didn’t blow your in, sir. I was the in. Me. My hard work.”

“Your ability to lie on your back?—”

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