Page 105 of The Outlaw's Savage Revenge

Furious green eyes pin me to the spot. “I told you where I was taking you last night.”

“And then you broke a couple of necks over breakfast!” The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them.

Something unreadable flickers in his gaze, like a shadow passing behind green ice. “So, when I asked you how you felt half an hour ago. I take it everything you said to me was bullshit.”

“No, Cade. I swear I meant it. Every word.”

He shoots me a look that tells me what he thinks about that, then glances away as if he can’t stand the sight of me.

Tears clog my throat. “Cade, please. Can you not understand it’s not that simple?”

“What, being honest about how you feel isn’t simple?”

“Yes! As much as I lo—” I clamp my mouth shut in horror, take a breath and try again. “That I want you doesn’t mean you don’t terrify me.”

What the actual fuck, Luna? Love? Are you insane?It must be because he almost died. It has to be.

His eyes bore into me, neither hot nor cold—just seeing straight through to my soul until I have to look away.

“It’s off,” I blurt, desperate to fill the crushing silence. “The phone. I only used it twice.”

“You think that matters? Your email is a beacon in the dark for anyone tracking you!”

I reach for my rune again, feeling about two inches tall. The familiar edges that usually ground me now feel like tiny knives of accusation. God, I should have known it wasn’t safe.

His tone gentles. “For fuck’s sake, Luciana, how many men do I have to kill before you understand you’re a wanted woman?”

My eyes close as fresh tears fall in hot trails down my cheeks that I can’t wipe away because my hands won’t stop shaking. I killed every one of those men. Hector. The Spaniards. These cyclists . . . Cade was just the weapon.

“What do you think this is?” He gestures between us.

My heart stutters because that’s one question I have no answer to.

When I remain silent, he sighs, “If you needed to contact someone, you could have asked for my phone. It’s untraceable.”

“I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not?”

Guilt claws at my insides, but I can’t lie to him. Not anymore. “Because,” I whisper, “I was letting someone know where I was in case . . .” I can’t finish. Don’t need to.

He arches a brow, smiling coldly. “I see. Well, princess, you got me there. I was going to kill you, eventually. Just needed to fuck up my life a little bit before snapping your gorgeous neck.”

His sarcasm breaks through the fog of guilt and my spine stiffens. “I get it, okay? Look, I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. You’ve risked everything to keep me safe, and now you’ve been shot.” I gesture at his blood-soaked side. “Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

“Like crap, I hope.”

Two warring impulses surge through me—the desperate need to throw myself at his feet and beg his forgiveness, and an equally powerful urge to smack that self-righteous look off his face. “Don’t be a dickhead, Cade.”

His gaze swings to mine with a blast of scorching heat. A muscle ticks in his jaw and I can practically see him clamp down on his cutting retort. He turns the ignition with more force than necessary and guns the engine.

I realize he’slettingme have the last word. And I don’t care to examine why I hate it. Instead, I grab his blood-soaked arm. “Cade, stop, please. You’re bleeding really badly. Let me help.”

“I’ll be fine. We should leave before the cops show.”

“Let them come! We’ll flash your badge!”

He smirks. “That’s not the way it works. I’ll sort out the wound later, don’t worry.”

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