Page 74 of Santa's Girl
But I felt her watching me. The shift in her breath. The way her fingers curled in her lap.
“You okay?” I asked, voice easy. Even.
She nodded. “Should I be?”
“Not unless things go sideways.”
She gave me a look, one of thoseyou did not just say thatlooks.
I cracked a grin. “Look, I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. This life—it’s not neat. It’s not polite. And it sure as hell doesn’t come with a panic button. But I’ve been doing this a long time, babe. I know when something’s real and when it’s just noise.”
“Is this noise?”
I thought about that.
“Don’t know yet,” I admitted. “But I’d rather show up ready than late.”
She nodded slowly. Eyes still scanning me. Like she wasn’t sure if she should be worried, impressed, or something else entirely.
“So this is just… normal for you?”
“This is Tuesday,” I said with a dry smirk. “Sometimes it’s a back alley. Sometimes it’s a bar fight. Sometimes it’s a bullshit meeting with a rival crew who don’t know how to pick up the phone like civilized men.”
“And sometimes it’s… taking a girl home you found stranded in the snow?”
My hand tightened on the steering wheel.
“Yeah,” I said. “Sometimes it’s that.”
The streetlights slid across her face. The silence between us settled into something that wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy, sure — but honest.
She wasn’t running.
She wasn’t melting down.
She washere.Riding shotgun in my world, where things get hot, sharp, and bloody real.
And me?
I wasn’t gonna lie to her. Not anymore. She deserved to seeallof me — even the dark corners.
I glanced over at her again. Her lips pressed together, hands still in her lap, but her eyes?
Still locked on mine.
Still steady.
Still with me.
17
BECCA
Ahalf hour ago, I was under string lights, sipping wine, considering dessert.
Now?
I was sitting in the front seat of a black Escalade, heart pounding, eyes locked on Bear as he stepped out into a dimly lit lot surrounded by leather, chrome, and testosterone.
