Page 62 of The Love Destroyers

I give him a look the devil would be proud of. “But what makes you think either of us would be interested in something more?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Declan says, sitting up straighter. “Not at all. She just went through a big breakup, though, and I don’t want either of you to get hurt. I’m not telling you to stand off, but…be careful. That’s all.”

It’s probably the five millionth time he’s said those very words to me, starting when I was no more than a couple of years old, trying to climb the stairs before anyone was ready.

I laugh and shake my aching head. “I’m trying, man. I’m really trying this time.”

Someone pokes me,none too gently.

I glance up, groggy as hell. For a second, I think it’s Wednesday night and I fell asleep on Emma’s couch. But the woman sitting next to me is not Emma, more’s the pity.

Nicole’s wearing a blond wig and a bad attitude, and I’m slumped over in the passenger seat of her non-descript black Range Rover. She usually drives a shitty Subaru that looks like it’s been backed into more than a bumper car, but this is a more fitting look for a car service provided to a contest winner. There are trees outside the windows, which suggests she’s pulled off the highway.

“You’ve been snoring for an hour and a half,” she says pointedly.

“I don’t snore.”

She snort-laughs. “So, you can lie to a person’s face. That’s a good quality in a PA. Infamous people don’t value honesty. Ellie’s going to love you.”

She pushes a pack of gum at me one-handed, and the whole car swerves.

“Jesus Christ,” I say, the last remnants of sleep giving way to the old reliable flight-or-fight response.

“Good, now you’re awake. Chew some gum and fix your hair. You want to look good for our girl.”

Not particularly. I don’t want the gum either, but my mouth tastes terrible, and I don’t want her to make the car swerve again. So I grab it from her, take a piece, and chew it for five seconds before disposing of it in the car trash.

“We’re five minutes away,” she says, giving me a sidelong glance. “You don’t look so good, buckaroo.”

I flip down the passenger mirror. The bump on my head is still bandaged, but black and blue can be seen webbing out from under it, and there are dark circles under my eyes. My hair looks like I’ve been sleeping on it in the car. I sigh, fixing it.

The adrenaline from the swerve surges again as Nicole turns down a residential street I recognize from Google Earth searches and Ellie’s tell-it-all Instagram Account.

I’m about to meet him. I’m about to be in the same room, and then the same car, as Jeffrey Fucking Nichols.

The more I’ve gotten to know Emma, the more I’ve wanted to do that man physical harm.

“No,” Nicole says, pulling over so abruptly, my body strains against the seatbelt. She waves a finger in my face. “No. I see where your mind is going—and you will not fuck this up for us. If you go in there swinging your dick, our plan will be dead on arrival.”

“I wasn’t going to swing my dick,” I mutter. “I’d rather swing my fists.”

She gives me a look that clearly communicates what she thinks of my intelligence and general worth as a human being. “What, so you can get arrested? What happens then? They can tie you to Emma, and suddenly she’s Tonya Harding. Have some sense.”

Damn it, I don’t like that she’s right.

I take a deep breath, bracing my hand against the glove compartment, and when I look back at Nicole, she pokes a stick in my face.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, seconds before the liquid hits my skin.

“Cover-up.” She spreads it with a sponge from her bag. “So you don’t look like a bruiser on a bender.”

I submit. I promised Emma we’d help her fix this—and I mean to make good on that—even if it entails wearing makeup.

“Beautiful,” she says, patting my cheek. “A fine specimen. She’ll be making inappropriate passes at you in no time.”

“In front of her boyfriend?” I ask with a snort.

“Let’s hope,” she says as she stuffs the makeup back into her purse. “Can you imagine how embarrassingthatwould be?”

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