16
Nat
Kage is silent as he drives. His hands are steady on the wheel. His posture is relaxed, his attitude is composed.
It’s obvious that I’m the only one in the car who’s freaking out.
My words come in a breathless rush. “What happened? Why did the shooting start?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ll find out.”
“Sloane?”
“She’s fine. Stavros has her. And he’ll protect her with his life.” His chuckle is dark.
“Why is that funny?”
He glances over at me. “Because he knows if he doesn’t and she winds up with so much as a scratch, he and his entire family will pay the price.”
“Which means…you’ll kill them.”
“Yes. In a very unpleasant way.”
I wish my heartbeat would settle down. It’s extremely hard to concentrate when you’re trying not to have a heart attack.
He examines my face, then glances back at the road. “Take slow, deep breaths.”
“Why?”
“You’re hyperventilating.”
He’s right: I am. I sound like an asthmatic pug. I slump against the seat, close my eyes, and try to calm myself.
It doesn’t work.
“The police—”
“If they contact you, don’t speak to them. You’re not legally obligated to talk to them, no matter what they threaten. You have the constitutional right to remain silent, even if you’re arrested or in jail.”
My voice climbs in panic. “Arrested? Jail?”
“That was only an example. They won’t arrest you. You’re not guilty of anything. My point is, if they contact you—which is a big if—refuse to talk to them. There’s nothing they can do to force you to.”
I make more wheezing noises.
Kage’s voice lowers. “And especially don’t tell them you were with me.”
That stops me cold, then pisses me off. “Are you saying you think I’d rat you out to the police?”
“No. I’m saying that if the authorities discover you have any kind of relationship with me, you’ll become a person of interest to them. You’ll be under constant surveillance. Your home will be bugged. Your phone calls will be recorded. They’ll go through your mail, your trash, and your online history. Your life will never be the same.”
I stare at his profile with my mouth hanging open as we speed through the night.
He says softly, “Why do you think I stayed away for all those months?”
“But you came back.”
“I’m a selfish prick like that.”
“So what was your plan for this relationship? That we sneak around under the cover of darkness? Pretend we don’t know each other but keep seeing each other on the sly?”
“In a nutshell…yes.”
Now I’m really angry. The heat in my cheeks is warming the interior of the car. I demand, “That’s what you think I deserve? Some kind of half-assed booty-call status?”
“No,” he says, his voice hard. “And if you have any sense, you should tell me to fuck off and never see me again.”
Livid, I stare at him. “I should.”
“Yes. You should.”
Dammit. It’s impossible to argue with someone who’s agreeing with you.
He takes a corner too fast. The car swerves, tires squealing. I don’t look away from his face for a second.
“Okay, so what do we do now?”
“I think it’s obvious.”
“Be condescending to me one more time, and I’ll smack you over the head.”
He presses his lips together, I suspect to keep from laughing. “You have a decision to make, Natalie.”
“Keep seeing you or tell you to fuck off?”
“Exactly. Oh—there’s one more thing you should know before you decide.” He glances over at me. “It’s bad.”
I throw my hands in the air. “Worse than you being a mobster?”
“I can’t have children.”
I thought I was speechless before. I really did. But that little gem just knocked my ability to form words right out of the park.
He takes my stunned silence as an invitation to keep talking.
“I had a vasectomy when I was twenty-one. There’s no way I’d bring a child into this life. My life. It’s too dangerous. It would be unfair. So you should take that into consideration when you’re deciding whether or not you want to keep seeing me. I’ll never be able to give you children, if that’s something you want.”
I blink an unnecessary amount of times. I clear my throat. I take deep, cleansing breaths.
Which does fuck all to help.
“You know what? This is too much for my hard drive to process right now. I don’t want to discuss this anymore.”
I fold my arms over my chest, huff out a heavy breath, and close my eyes.
We drive for a while in silence, until Kage says in a low voice, “I’ll give you anything else you ask for. Everything you ask for. Anything you wanted for the rest of your life, you’d have.”
“Please stop talking now.”
“You’d be taken care of forever. You’d be my queen.”
I open my eyes and stare at him in disbelief. “A queen in hiding? A queen who couldn’t wear her crown because all her king’s enemies would see it and want to chop off her head?”
He clenches his jaw. Through gritted teeth, he says, “You’d be protected.”
“Are you sure you don’t mean sequestered?”
“I’m not going to lock you away, if that’s what you think.”
Emotion swells in my chest, rising in my throat to form a lump I have to swallow around.
“No. You wouldn’t lock me away. From the sound of it, you’d just pop in and out of my life like you have been, coming and going whenever you please, getting your rocks off and vanishing to who knows where until the next time you decide you’re horny, all under the guise of keeping me safe from the cops.”
He’s getting angry. I can see it in the way he’s clenching his jaw. In the way his breathing has changed. In the death grip he’s got on the steering wheel.
His voice gravelly, he says, “It’s not a guise. It’s the fucking truth.”
“Even if I believed you, Kage, why should I want this for myself? Why should I want any of this?”
He snaps, “I won’t try to argue you into it. Either you want me or you don’t.”
“Of course I want you! I want you like I’ve never wanted anything! But don’t you think I’ve already been through enough? You think I should put my heart on the line again when you’ve flat out told me who and what you are and what the limits of this relationship would be?”
“No!” he roars. “I don’t! Which is exactly what I’m fucking saying!”
He careens around another corner. We narrowly miss killing a pedestrian in the crosswalk.
A few minutes later, we screech to a stop in my driveway. Before he can say another word, I’m out of the car, hustling toward the front door.
When I open it, he barges right through behind me. When he slams the door shut, Mojo lifts his head from where he’s lying in the middle of the living room floor, makes a half-hearted woof, then goes back to sleep.