The Monster (Boston Belles 3)

“It’s a disaster waiting to happen,” he hissed, trying to keep himself in check. I knew Sam wasn’t well-versed in negotiations. He normally just took what he wanted, when he wanted it. He was trying to make an effort.

“It’s not even that bad,” I argued. We slid onto the highway. December gave way to January. It seemed like everything in the world—the trees, the roads, the buildings—was coated with a thin layer of crystal-blue frost, including Sam’s heart. “What I do is perfectly legal in a variety of countries. Switzerland, for instance. But also Belgium, Western Australia, Columbia—”

“Notice what country you omitted from the list?”

I turned to look at him.

“The United States of fucking ’Murica. Here it is illegal, ergo you will not be doing it.”

“You’re right.” I chewed on my lower lip. “Maybe I should move to Switzerland.”

“Your backward logic never ceases to amaze me,” he grunted. “We aren’t moving to Switzerland, sweetheart, no matter how much you like killing people.”

There was a we? Since when was there a we? And why did it make my heart squeeze inside my chest?

Because you still love him, mon cheri. You’ve always loved him. He is your forever, even if you are only his right now.

“Why?” I feigned innocence. “You can do what you do anywhere. I don’t remember being a mobster requiring high SAT and IQ scores. And it’s not like you’ll have a job interview to fail.”

“You done being sassy?”

“Not quite.” I grinned, pleased with myself for holding my own.

“I own too much of Boston to let it go,” Sam explained, letting another verbal attack from my end roll off his back.

“Does ruling Boston make you happy?” I gave him a sidelong glance. “Does anything make you happy?” I added quietly.

“You make me happy,” he snapped, disgusted with himself. “You, and your blue, blue eyes and throaty voice and good, fair heart and dark, depraved soul.”

It was fascinating to see him like this. An injured animal cornered into talking about his feelings. I didn’t want to push him, so I turned to look at the view from the window, smiling to myself.

When we got to Boston, I noticed he was driving to his place, not mine.

“What are you doing?” I demanded. “I told you, I have work in the morning.”

“I already packed half your fucking room and moved it into my place, Sherlock. Chances are whatever you were planning to wear in the morning is already at my apartment. Bonus points … you don’t have to pretend to wear scrubs and change when you get to the clinic because I already know your secret.” He killed the engine and got out of the car.

I followed him, my mouth hanging open in astonishment, delight, and irritation. Only Sam could set all three on fire at the same time.

“How?” I demanded. “When?”

Sam took out a pair of keys from his pocket, dangling them between his fingers in front of my face. I recognized them to be my house keys.

“How? Duplicated these puppies a few days ago. When? Mostly when you were at work. Sometimes when you were asleep. It’s amazing how much can escape you. Remind me to never trust you with a safe. The burglar would steal it and you and you wouldn’t even notice.”

That night I fucked Nix the way I’d always planned to.

In leisure, without feeling her family breathing down my fucking neck.

Bent her over my desk and plowed into her while she screamed my name.

Then again in my bed and another time on the kitchen counter.

After the fifth time, we both fell into bed, exhausted and sweaty.

For the first time in my life, I fell asleep with someone by my side. Felt a woman’s warmth next to mine.

There was still some way to go. She had to quit her god-awful job and take a more traditional position as a doctor. But we were going places.

When I woke up in the morning, I turned over on my back and flung an arm out to her. Her side of the bed was cold.

I opened one eye, frowning.

She was gone.

She left a note on the nightstand.

Thanks for the sex, but you are still not off the hook.

—Nix.

Aisling refused to see me the next day.

And the day after that.

And the day after.

She didn’t take my calls, didn’t show up when I drove over to her house, and wouldn’t read my text messages.

And there were so fucking many of them.

Much more than I’d ever sent anyone else.

Sam: Stop acting like a child.

Sam: All I need is to show up at the clinic if I want to see you.

Sam: You proved your point. We can renegotiate your job.

Sam: You’re getting on my last nerve, Nix, and you don’t want to see what happens when I finally snap.

Sam: This is why I never wanted a relationship.