The Brit

“Not really. I never know whether to chew, suck, or swallow.”

Lifting his fork, he taps the end of the prongs, his lips pouting. “All except chew. Suck and swallow to your heart’s content, but for Christ’s sake, don’t chew.” He peeks up at me, a smirk growing.

Laughter rises up from my toes and my head falls back, my amusement pure and real. I’ve never heard myself laugh before. Not real laughter. Not the kind that is overwhelming and rich and warming. Laughter sounds good on me. I drop my face and take more wine, unable to stop myself from relishing the sight of Danny’s soft features. Soft on hard. Happy on evil. “You’re quite nice when you’re funny.”

He lifts his glass. “Does that mean you like me?”

I tap the side of my glass to his. “I’m not allowed to like you. You’re keeping me against my will.”

All amusement vanishes from his face, stripping it of the softness. Now, he’s serious and regarding me carefully. “Am I?”

I tilt my head, thinking hard before I speak. “Are you telling me I could get up and walk out of here?”

“Do you want to?”

I feel like he’s testing me. Playing a game. Had he asked me the very same question this morning, I would have been gone faster than he pulled that gun on Gordon. Now? Now I’m in touch with Nox. That thought has me glancing out of the window, scanning the people in my sights. It’s stupid. If he’s there, he’ll make sure I can’t see him. “Do I want to?” I mimic on an exhale, refocusing my attention on my new target. My next move should be considered carefully. Say yes, then he might actually let me leave, and I can’t leave, not now. Say no, and that might rouse doubt in him. How could I go from wanting out to wanting in within a few hours? I ponder, weighing up each option while he watches me closely. I place my glass down. “I’d like to leave.”

“Then go.” He doesn’t hesitate a beat.

Uncertainty plagues me as I slowly rise from my chair, feeling all his men watching me too. I’ve said it now. I have to follow through or risk provoking suspicion. Because, why the hell would I want to stay?

Danny’s jaw is so tight it could pop, his body solid and still, his eyes now cold again as he watches me. I round the table and focus on the door, using all my strength to put one foot in front of the other. Fuck, how did I get myself into this? I need to stay. I need information. My head is in chaos, my body moving against my mind’s will. The door is close but miles away. But freedom isn’t beyond it. It’s just an extension of my prison. What’s beyond that door is punishment. Consequences. Hell.

I reach the door and take the handle, pulling it open. And then jump when his hand comes over my shoulder and slams it shut again. My heart works its way up to my mouth and wedges itself there. “But if you leave,” he whispers against my cheek, forcing me to close my eyes and find air. “You will be dead before you make it to the curbside.”

I exhale, feeling all the stress drain from my body. It’s crazy, since he’s just threatened to kill me, but Danny Black seems to do crazy things to me.

“So I suggest you get your arse back to the table.”

I hesitate for a second, just long enough to appear to have thought about it. Does he think I deserve to die? Would he kill me? I actually think not. But when he finds out I’m here to betray him . . .

I move, facing his ominous frame crowding me. After a few seconds of him making sure I see the threat in his eyes—a threat I’m not sure is real—he moves aside and lets me walk back to the table. I retake my seat, and Danny joins me. Any light and easiness that was with us before is a distant memory. Now, I’m faced with the real Danny Black again.

I’m glad. This guy is easier to handle. I’m better equipped to deal with threats. And his sinister side seems far less dangerous to me than the wickedly charming Brit.

* * *

I picked my way through the seafood and skipped the oysters altogether. There’s been no conversation, just a thick, horrible silence, which leaves room for my mind to go to wild places. He’s angry. He told me to leave and didn’t think I would. So he threatened to kill me if I did. It’s one way to force someone to stay, I guess. Or is it his way to keep me? Either way, I’m still here, which is good because I need to be.