Page 21 of She Gives Love a Bad Name

I could have died. Ishouldhave died.

The events of the night before come back in a rush. Adrenaline pulses through me. Snippets of memory flash in my brain like lightning across the night sky. The struggle. The chase. The sound of the old man’s rattling final breath.

I shiver and wrap my arms around my waist, then curl into a ball on the bed and close my eyes.

I’ve been in more scrapes than I can count, and I’ve always gotten out of them. But this time I nearly ended up a statistic.

No shit, I almost died. I thought I was dead there for a minute.

It was pure dumb luck I got out of that place alive.

I roll onto my back to stare at the ceiling. My shoulder aches at the motion, pulsing beneath the bandage. Two deep breaths ease the pain, but it’s a constant reminder of my brush with death.

On the other side of the door, he’s in a mood. The sounds of slamming cabinets and the distinct clinking of glass against glass fill the void. The detective is a grumpy asshole.

And yet he took you in and patched you up.The whispering voice in the back of my mind is smug.Ungrateful shit.

I scowl at the door, wishing it would burst into flames.

He did help me, but that doesn’t mean I have to let him treat me like garbage. We mean nothing to each other. Nothing.

Maybe I shouldn’t have told him about last night’s mess. I should have taken the opportunity to go while he was out and left it at that. When he came back looking like someone ran over his favorite puppy, I couldn’t lie to him.

Fuck.

Even his brother makes me feel guilty for wanting to leave. I could have slipped out the door a few times, but those sad, pensive eyes just followed me around the apartment. Claude’s not the typical New York barkeep with a big mouth and bad attitude. He’s quiet and sweet. I noted the American flag pin on his lapel, less obvious than the missing hand. He’s a Vietnam veteran. I’d put money on it.

He kept me company while his brother was off being a detective. I’ll admit I craved the company. I don’t want to be alone. Not after last night. Claude cuts an imposing figure, but his kind smile is reassuring.

Then Detective Grump Ass came back and ruined everything.

He makes me want to tear my hair out. But now he knows I saw the murderer, and he’ll never let me go. Honestly, as much as I want to bash him over the head with a frying pan, I feel safe here.

Plus, I don’t have anywhere to go. There’s no one I can trust.

What are the odds he’d be the detective in charge of this damned case?

I’m no help, and I’ve told him as much. I didn’t see anything that could uncover the identity of the murderer.

Wounded, with nowhere to go and nothing to offer, I’m useless. No matter what, I have to talk to him. We need to come to an agreement. Something.

I drag myself up to sit on the edge of the bed. My hand rubs the bandage on my arm. I don’t mean to be a selfish little brat, but after years of taking care of myself, trust comes hard.

Can I trust him?

Do I have a choice?

With a sigh, I stand and slowly walk into the living room. The moment I open the door, I see him slouched in a shabby recliner, staring out the window. A glass dangles from his fingertips. Amber liquid catches the light from outside.

He glances up when I cross the floor, his gaze narrowing as he sips the drink.

I sit on the couch, and the silence stretches between us, pulling tight like a rubber band. Then it snaps.

“Done with your temper tantrum?” He eyes me over the rim of the glass.

“Are you done being a dick?”

A corner of his mouth pulls back in a lopsided smirk.

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