Killer (Savages 2)

Jeez. He looked outright offended. He was right. I wasn't being fair. Just because he whored around didn't mean he was a crummy friend. Augh. What was wrong with me? "Johnnie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... I was..."

Then a sly smile toyed with his lips and I wished I could suck that apology right back in. "You were jealous."

"I was not!"

I so was.

"Kinda like that, baby. Not gonna lie," he said, moving toward me, making me back away from him. "Like knowing you don't want another woman getting to claim me."

"Claim you?"

"You wanna plant your flag in me," he teased, backing me up against the counter. "And then you want to threaten war to anyone who dares to try to put a finger on your property."

"Oh my god. Get over yourself," I tried, though maybe a part of me was nodding her head and saying 'heck yeah, he's mine mine mine!'. But that was absolutely ridiculous.

"You want me all to yourself," he said, pressing his hips into mine, his hands planted on the the counter top on either side of my body.

"It's amazing that one man can have that inflated an ego."

"You can claim me, baby. I don't mind," he said, giving me a smile that backed up his words.

Shoot. I wanted that. I really wanted that. I wanted to claim him. But a man like him, he could never be mine.

"What did Lo have to say?" I asked, trying to change the topic. It worked. I knew this because his face fell into hard lines, almost making me regret asking. Almost.

"Honey..."

That wasn't a good 'honey'. That was a very, very bad 'honey'.

"Tell me," I demanded, feeling my heart start to pound in my chest.

He exhaled loudly, his hands moving to my hips and sinking in, then lifting me up so my butt was on the counter and he stepped into me until my legs went out to the sides of his body. "Not good news."

"I'm kinda getting that. Just tell me already. You're not helping by dragging it out."

His hands stayed on my hips and squeezed a little. "Lo and Hailstorm are looking into Luis' organization, especially the people who work for him. Baby..."

"No," I said, shaking my head so hard my vision blurred. No no no. No way.

"Yeah, baby. Pops worked for him."

"No," I said, and it came out a little hysterically.

One of his hands left my hips, traced a finger down my cheek, then grabbed the side of my neck. "Yeah, honey. He's been on the payroll for a coupla years now."

And it was right then that I realized I couldn't take anymore. I realized this because I simply shut down. It was like a door slamming, locking everything ugly that I didn't want to think about behind it. Left behind was just a blissful sort of numbness.

"Amy..."

"Okay," I said with a casual shrug.

"Okay?" he asked, his brows drawing together.

"Yeah, okay. Thanks for telling me."

"Thanks for telling you?"

"Why are you repeating everything I say?" I asked, a ghost of a smile on my lips.

"Baby..."

"I'm fine," I insisted, pushing into his stomach with my knees until he stepped back so I could hop down and grab my coffee.

"Yeah, angel, that's why I'm worried."

"You're worried because I'm fine?" I asked, shaking my head as I pulled open the pound of sugar and scooped a teaspoon into my coffee before twisting open the milk.

"I'm worried because you loved my old man, Amelia. I'm worried because I held you in my arms when you cried your heart out after his funeral. I'm worried because the Amelia I know wouldn't be 'fine' with any of this."

"Maybe that's only because you don't know me that well," I said, taking a sip of my coffee and cringing. Gross. Why hadn't I told him to pick up tea?

"In the bag, baby," he said with a small smile.

"What's in the bag?"

"Tea."

"You bought me tea?"

"Figured you wanted your caffeine fix so you settled for coffee though you don't drink it. So I picked you up some tea."

I put my mug down, moving to the bag as if I needed proof. And, sure enough, there was a box of tea. Not only was it a box of tea; it was a box of my tea. He must have looked at the sweet tea when I had it steeping on the balcony. Since when was any man that observant?

"That was sweet. Thank you."

"That's it?" he asked and I jerked to look at him, brows drawn together.

"What were you expecting?"

He gave me a wicked grin that suggested I knew exactly what he expected. "But I'll settle for a kiss," he said, puckering his lips a little at me.

"You're ridiculous."

"You love it."

"Stop being so cocky."

"Stop liking it."

This was not going to lead to anywhere good. I moved to dump my coffee down the drain, rinsed my cup and went in search of a saucepan seeing as having a teapot did not scream 'bad boy manwhore' and therefore, Johnnie did not own one. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him watch me for a moment before moving to pour himself a cup of coffee and hop up on the counter where he had me sitting a moment before.

"What's the flour and butter and eggs for?"

"To have in the fridge in case you need them," I said with a head shake. How did he not know that?

"So you're not cooking for me again?"

"No."

"That's okay," he said, seeming to find very little offensive, no matter how much I tried to be that way. "I'll just have you for lunch. And dinner. And dessert."

I watched the pot on the stove, ignoring the tightening of my sex at the promise of his words. Why couldn't my mind and body be in agreement about him being a bad idea?

"Relax, honey. We'll order in," he said, hopping down and moving out of the kitchen.

I fought the urge I had to call him back, to ask him not to walk away from me, to come and tease me and kiss me and make things better. But that wasn't his place. He wasn't my boyfriend. As much as he thought it was cute to joke around about being okay with my staking claim, I knew better. He wasn't that kind of guy. And, well, I wasn't exactly that kind of girl either.