Page 48 of Lethal Deceit

“You won’tallowit?I’m not a teenager. I can control myself.”

He yawns then pointedly looks at me. “Would you bet your life on that? Because if she’s playing you, you’ll be dead before you realize.”

When I don’t answer, he rises to his feet and looks down at me as he stretches his arms over his head. “I’ll text Luke and tell him you need his assistance here.”

I balk at the idea of a chaperone. “There’s no need. It won’t happen again. You have my word I won’t lose sight of why I’m here.”

I extend my hand, and he accepts it, the force of his grip so powerful I work not to flinch.

“Expect a lot more drop-ins until this is resolved,” he says.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Eleven

Samantha

The murmur of male voices merges with the frantic pounding of my heart.

Muscle Man is not happy. Who knows what he’ll do. Maybe change his mind and hand me over to the PD?

I’m completely at their mercy, and thanks to Mick’s confusing kindness, I’m making foolish errors that could cost me my life.

Quickly, I snap my bra on, grab the sewing kit, slide the memory card into my bra, and toss the kit into the trash. But even that doesn’t dampen the panic raging like a wildfire inside me.

I smear my hand over the fogged-up mirror and growl at myself. My lips are still swollen from his stubble. What was I thinking kissing him? And what am I supposed to do now?

One little kiss hasn’t changed anything between us. It can’t have. He’s still law enforcement, and I’m still a criminal in his eyes.

Pulling my shoulders back, I dress in my borrowed clothes, leaving my feet bare, toss his socks back on his bed, and cross the room so I can listen at the door.

Nothing. Either they’ve gone silent, or I missed his exit. Stupid, really. I should have stayed around in case I heard something I could use in my favor.

Mick is in the kitchen when I enter, his back to me, and is washing dishes with too much gusto not to be angry at me.

Before I can speak, he preempts me. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“Says who?”

He turns, soapy water dripping off his hands as he pokes his thumb into his chest. “Me.”

For some stupid reason, I feel like arguing with him. “Are you sorry you kissed me or sorry you got caught doing it?”

He shakes his head and turns back to the sink. “I don’t know. But I won’t let it happen again. It can’t.”

His coldness after such a hot kiss grates on me. “Because I’m going to jail?”

He mutters something so low I can’t make it out.

“What did you say?”

“I said, I don’t know.”

At least we’ve got that straight. Everything else might be a mess, but it’s clear where he draws the line.

“Got it. No point investing anything in me when I’ll be behind bars before too long. Guess I’m not worth the time after all.”

He spins around, a flash of anger crossing his face. “That’s not what I said. Don’t twist my words.”

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