Triple Threat (Deception Duet 1)

I feel like this shadowy, monstrous version of the man I had freaking phone sex with and kissed will be the one to end my life.

Not my father.

Him.

“I…” I trail off, clearing my throat. “I’m, um, fine.”

The guy remains beside me, his concern boring into me. I can’t look at him. I have to keep my eyes on the threat in front of me.

“Are you afraid of that guy?” he asks, his voice low. “Do you need help?”

Help?

I need help, but this guy isn’t going to be able to help me. No one can. I need to figure out a way out of my mess in a way that doesn’t result in Ford or my father destroying what little life I have.

Ford rises to his feet, his features darkening. He glowers at the guy at my side and squares his shoulders. A vein pops out on Ford’s neck. His jaw tightens and his hands curl into fists.

Oh crap.

Run!

I want to scream at this guy who’s only trying to be nice, but I can’t find my voice. He says something to me. It’s muffled by the roaring in my ears.

A storm is coming.

It’s barreling my way.

We’re about to be decimated.

The guy gently grips my arm, trying to get my attention. I squeak in surprise, jerking away from him.

“I’m okay. I’m fine. I promise. Just leave me alone,” I hiss, my fear sounding more like venom toward the one person in this room full of people willing to help me.

“Okaaaaay.”

The guy walks away, honoring my wish—my death wish.

Ford limps slightly, yet it doesn’t diminish the raw power rippling from him. He’s dangerous in this moment. Starved for me. As he nears, I try not to cower. Just another monster like my father.

I can handle him.

Lifting my chin, I meet his dark eyes that flicker with intensity. He doesn’t stop until he’s towering over me. His scent is different today. Not buttery sweet or like the sea with a hint of spice.

He smells decadent. Heady. Like an expensive mocha latte sprinkled with cinnamon. His scent is anything but dangerous. It’s intoxicating.

“Landry.” He says it like a question. As though he’s confirming it. “Hmm.”

The rumble of his voice vibrates through me making me shiver. A lot of eyes are on us. Class hasn’t started, but we’re standing in front of everyone and giving them a show. I can’t do this with an audience. The idea of being alone with this man is terrifying, though. I’m out of options.

“Ford.”

He cocks his head to the side, amusement making his hard expression transform into something more familiar. It’s a trap I fall easily into. My muscles slightly relax.

“You’re scared of me.” His apathetic words are almost said with a yawn.

Am I that transparent?

Straightening my spine, I affix him with a hard glare. “I need you to leave me alone.” Because I know you beat my dad up and if this gets back to him, he’s going to completely lose it.

“Leave you alone?” His eyes narrow. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

“What you did to my dad—” I start and snap my mouth shut when several students glance over at us.

“Go on,” Ford urges, his voice low and lethal sounding. “I’m listening.”

His taunting is both confusing and maddening at once. My mind scatters in a thousand different directions. I don’t understand him, especially now, but this nagging curiosity says I want to. If only to better know how to deal with my newest opponent.

“Can we talk?” I mutter, unable to find my voice. “Alone?”

A dark brow arches and he smirks. “Alone?”

“I’m not doing it in front of the whole damn class,” I snap, my fear quickly morphing into anger.

How dare him inject himself into my life and shake things up.

My life is already a mess. I don’t need him adding to it.

“Saucy.” He chuckles, dark and devious. “Let’s go somewhere private then, prickly princess.”

Prickly princess.

I prefer Laundry or honey over that stupid name.

When I don’t move my feet, he reaches down and takes my hand. It feels clammy inside his large, powerful one. He tugs, guiding me to the door.

This feels like a death march.

Suicide.

And yet, I don’t run.

I let him pull me away from the safety of other people.

A chill numbs me to my bones the second we exit the classroom. He slowly limps along, taking me through a series of hallways until I don’t know where we’re going. The amount of people grows more and more sparse.

“Did you get hurt when you beat up my dad?”

He stops mid-step, cutting his eyes my way. “I did what now?”

“Beat my dad up.”

“All by myself?”

I frown at him, confused at his words. Dad just said he’d been jumped. There wasn’t a mention of more than one attacker.

My dad isn’t exactly a small guy, but Ford is young and built. He could easily take my dad on in a fight. By himself. But everything in his expression tells me there were more than just him.