Page 22 of Devil Inside: Green

“I’m not that.”

“No. You’re not and I’m glad of that. It got tiring. It always felt like Dela was running, but she didn’t know where she was running to. I know part of that was my fault. She trusted me and I cut her loose to fuck pussies at the club.” He drops his hand and nope, not going to happen. I want him to touch me and I think he needs to. I link our fingers together, lifting our hands to rest on my chest. Right over my heart. I’m not saying I’m in love with him, but we have the potential to fall. I feel it.

“You ever think that’s why you let her go? I’m not talking badly about her. I know you loved her. I know Rae loved her—I’m just saying, maybe she was too much. She was running trying to find something that I don’t think she was ever going to find because even if she did, she wouldn’t have recognized it.”

“You could be a therapist as well as an FBI agent.”

“I’m not trying to be a know-it-all. Just—”

Green kisses me again. “Not saying you’re a know-it-all. I mean it. You’re so smart. Beauty, brains, and control. I know what to expect from you for the most part. I don’t mean you’re boring. Get that look off your face.”

I bury my face against his chest, laughing, not realizing that I made a face in the first place.

“You change things up. But you make a plan, you stick to it. It’s refreshing. Sometimes I want to know where I’m going in my day. I got so used to not knowing it with Del that drinking was the only way to keep it up—to feel like she was still with me. You wouldn’t think so, but even bikers need to know where they’re heading.”

“I can believe it.” I shrug. “I think that’s why all your brothers are settling down. It’s one thing to live free—it’s totally another to feel aimless.”

“See?” He presses his forehead to mine again. “This is the shit I’m talking about. You get it. You get the life. That’s why we make sense, Danni. That’s fucking exactly why we make sense.”

“You called me ‘Danni.’”

“That’s your name.”

“Not for you. You call me ‘Preppy.’”

“Damn right I call you ‘Preppy’…”

Just as we start getting hot and heavy in an emotional makeout sesh, his phone rings. At first, he tries to ignore it, but when it becomes way too apparent that whoever is calling really wants to speak with him, he shifts me just a bit to reach into his pocket, but he keeps me on his lap as he answers.

Not since my first boyfriend has a man treated me so tenderly. Not that the few who kept my company were jerks, but Green is different than I expected him to be. He’s tough but tender with me—even though we can get in each other’s faces with neither of us backing down.

Yeah, the potential to fall for him is definitely there.

I watch his face harden as he listens to what’s being said over the phone. When he hangs up, he sighs. “We got it wrong, babe.”

“Wedid?”

“’Fraid so—fuck.” He slams the palm of his hand against the glove box.

“What happened?”

“That stupid fuck struck again.”

“What? Where? Not at a mental health facility?”

“Nope. You got that right. So damn smart,” he mumbles. “Durham.”

“Shit. You’re kidding me? I was too busy attacking your dick—”

“Don’t you dare. Not that. Get pissed about anything else, but don’t you fucking dare get pissed about that. You hear me?”

“I…Okay.” That really meant something to him. He said we make sense and I believe it now, but I didn’t realize how much our time together meant to him. He opened up to me in a way that I’m not sure he’s given to many people. Maybe not even Dela.

“We’re heading back to the hotel, getting some rest. Then we’ll regroup. See where we think he’s heading next.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“I will, but not now. Let’s go back to the hotel. Let me hold you while we sleep. I need to hold you.”

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