Page 67 of Art of Sin

“Give me your pants, Nate. And your car keys.”

“Damnit, Dee. Just talk to him—”

I bark a laugh. “And say what?”

He looks away, frowning and shaking his head. “No. I won’t do it.”

“What?”

His eyes meet mine. If I wasn’t so fucking stunned by his refusal, I’d be proud of the strength I see there.

“I won’t help you shut everyone out. Not this time. You’re not a one-woman army, Deirdre, and I’m sure as shit not going to stand by while you blow your own life up to protect me. We’re facing this together.”

Neither of us noticed the bedroom door opening.

“Face what?”

Nate stares me down for a few more seconds, then brushes past Gideon. “I’ll check on you later, Dee.” His footsteps fade down the hallway. Not long after, the front door opens and closes.

Gideon leans against the doorjamb, arms crossed, stance relaxed. “Breakfast is on the table. You’re going to eat at least five bites. Then you’re going to tell me what the fuck is going on.”

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