Page 90 of Three Reckless Words

Crap, I’m going to cry again.

Why is my defense mechanismcrying?

And why does it always have to happen around Archer of all people?

Looking back, Holden glowers at us both, his gaze fixed on Archer and his fists balled up for a second too long before he finally slides into the driver’s seat.

I want to run up and start pelting his car with rocks, but none of my limbs are working.

If he found me, Dad will be right behind him, I’m sure. Especially when Holden delivers my message back home.

I know he will. He’s never been the subtle type.

Just not the part where I said I’d never go back.

Not the part where I gushed about the bees.

Certainly not the part where Archer gave him a sorely needed ass kicking for my sake.

He might just claim Archer assaulted him. Another lie, of course.

Nothing about the way angry, bitter Holden tried to box me in that caused this scuffle.

But that wouldn’t stop him from bending the facts to fit his narrative. When you grow up in politics and big money, it’s hard not to master that skill.

As Holden’s car disappears down the road, Archer turns back to me. His face is angular, cheekbones sharper in his rage, and when his gaze drops to my bare feet, he curses, low and harsh.

“Fuck, Winnie. Your feet. Get back inside before you step on something sharp.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry.” I think I’m trembling. Or maybe we’re having an earthquake. That would explain my irrational reaction and the way I think I’m shaking. “I’m terribly sorry about this, Archer. I never thought he’d come here and stir the pot like this. I thought maybe—”

“Winnie, enough.”

Even my chin trembles, but I do my best to clamp my teeth together and face him.

Here it comes.

“You can’t stay here another second with assholes like him prowling around. Not one moresecond,” he says, plunging daggers ringing in his voice. Rage burns his eyes, a hot blue flame that threatens to consume me.

I nod limply like I knew this would be the response.

“I get it. I know. I’m sorry and I’ll go.”

He glances away with his lip curled, staring into the night where Holden’s car vanished, even though we can’t even hear it anymore.

“Go? No. I’m taking you somewhere safe, Sugarbee. No arguments. Somewhere you won’t be harassed by that sorry shitlicker.” He raises his fist, brandishing it like the fearsome weapon it is. “He’s lucky I let him limp home.”

“Archer… what? I don’t understand.”

He sighs, low and torn. “Winnie, I said I’m taking you home. My house.”

Oh.

Oh, crap.

12

MURDER HORNET (ARCHER)

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