Page 31 of Crossing the Line
“Where is she?” he demanded.
Kate flinched. “I’ll tell you but you have to promise not to murder her when you get there.”
“Where the fuck is she, Kate?” His shins were touching the front of the chair she wielded.
He stared her down until she wilted like a daisy. “Shit. Fine. Okay. She’s going to my house. It’s no big deal. She does it all the time.”
The glare he shot her was deadly and had her backpedaling against the kitchen counter. “Don’t even think about warning her,” he growled.
“Couldn’t if I wanted to—which I don’t because you’re terrifying,” she inserted quickly. “She left her phone here. She thought you’d track it.” Kate pointed to the phone charging on the counter.
She thought right.
“When I get back I’m murdering you both,” Xavier promised and started for the door. His gaze fell on the empty pizza box. He shot another look at Kate.
“Don’t judge me,” she told him.
“Text me the address,” he said heading for the door.
It was a fifteen-minute drive to Kate’s, and it was more than enough time to have Xavier’s temper spike to heights previously never explored. Waverly had known that Ganim was in town, knew he posed a threat. And yet here she was sneaking out of her house like a rebellious kid.
That’s what she was, he reminded himself. A spoiled, selfish kid.
God knew what she did at Kate’s house. Drank herself into a stupor? Had sex? Whatever stupid, rebellious thing rich, undisciplined kids did. Well, if her parents were incapable of laying down the law, he was happy to step in. Fucking thrilled.
He’d let her push him around all week, giving her time to get used to the idea of him. But that was a mistake. Waverly obviously needed a firmer hand.
His GPS directed him into a cul de sac of pasty townhouses with orange tile roofs and gravel landscape. Kate’s was the third on the right, and her SUV was in the driveway sitting in front of the beige garage door. Xavier parked his Tahoe behind the Explorer, cutting off any possible escape and slammed the door with enough force to send the vehicle rocking.
He was debating the best access point that wouldn’t alert the neighbors but still scare the shit out of Waverly when Lady Luck finally smiled on him and the garage door began a creaky ascent.
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Waverly breathed in the scent of leather and gasoline. It was the smell of happiness and giddy freedom.
She revved the throttle and the BMW sport bike under her purred to life as the garage door opened behind her. She picked up her helmet and prepared to stash her hair up into it when she spotted something in the rearview mirror.
She knew those shoes, those nicely tailored pants, those strong arms and broad shoulders. And hell if she didn’t know that scowl. She was toast.
“How—” She barely got the word out before he pounced.
Xavier stormed in, turned off the bike, and with one arm, plucked her off of the seat. He pinned her against the drywall with enough force that her teeth jarred together.
“What in the ever-living fuck is wrong with you?” he growled.
Waverly struggled against the crushing grip he had on her arms, but he merely lifted her off the ground and held her there so they were eye-to-eye. Fear shifted gears into anger. “Damn it! How the hell did you find me?”
It was the wrong thing to say. She watched his pupils contract to slits. Rage, hot and primal, pumped off of him in waves.
“Are you stupid?”
“What?” She slapped her hands to his chest and shoved with all her might. He didn’t budge.
“Answer the fucking question, Waverly. Are you stupid? Or are you having some kind of psychotic break?”
“You’re the one manhandling me like a freaking pro wrestler,” she wheezed, aiming a kick at his shin. “That seems like both to me.”
The kick glanced off of him and resulted in him pinning her to the wall with his body. His hips crushed against hers and she immediately stilled. His hands dug into her upper arms and she could feel the silk of his tie pressed against the skin above the low v of her t-shirt.
