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“No,” she whispered, her gaze locked on his. Still no fear. Damn. “I love Madigan’s. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. You’re wrong about everything. Now leave.”
His hands were balled at his sides to keep from touching her, but his body hummed from the charged energy coursing between them. “I’m never completely wrong, Skyla. And if you think throwing yourself into dangerous situations isn’t going to come back to haunt you, you’re the one who’s wrong.” He took a step back, letting the situation defuse. Another second and he was going to devour her if she didn’t stop him.
Skyla’s eyes widened, as if she was bewildered by what he’d said. “What are you talking about?”
She was a good actress. But he could read her like an open book. Still, he’d play along. This little dance of theirs was far from over. “Hank, of course. You have to be careful around people like him. They’re sharks. One minute you think you’re safe. The next, they pop out of nowhere and grab you, leaving you nowhere to go. No place to hide. You don’t want that to happen to you, do you?”
“You’re scaring me, Blake.”
She didn’t look scared. Not of him. But her words still cut deep. He’d arrested plenty of women in his career, but he’d never gone out of his way to frighten them.
He took another step back. He had one foot out the door now. “You could’ve been hurt out there tonight.” His hand went to his slightly swollen eye, but even as his fingers brushed along the tender flesh, all he could think about was her hand, her fingers touching him there, and how he hadn’t wanted her to stop. “If you think you can get back at your old man by coming home with a black eye, or a lawsuit, don’t even think about it. You can’t make someone love you, not even your own father.” That last part, he knew from personal experience.
Skyla swallowed, nearly wincing with the motion, like his words had turned into a whiskey the same color as her eyes, and burned as it went down. “I know.”
Blake stared at her for a long moment. He’d come here tonight to get answers. To break her. Instead, she’d slayed him with just those two words.
Chapter 9
Blake stormed out of Madigan’s and didn’t stop until he was back in his car, sitting behind the wheel, nothing but the sound of his own blood pounding in his ears. His skin felt hot and tight, his mouth dry, and his limbs fidgety and tense. He pushed a hand through his overgrown curls and gripped the steering wheel even though he hadn’t even put the key in the ignition yet.
He’d almost blown it. Skyla Madigan was infuriating him with how she came off as this unassuming, yet strong as fuck, woman. He wanted to hate her. Wanted her to give him a reason to lock her up and throw away the key. She was guilty. He wasn’t sure of what, but he knew in his gut that she was the link to the MC, and whatever they were up to wasn’t good. But she was also so fucking irresistible. So easy to talk to.
He’d almost accused her of everything he suspected. Not because he had any proof, but because he needed to break her. Because it was the only way he could think to put some distance between himself, and the woman who was starting to occupy more of his thoughts than she had a right to. The way she’d rushed to help that woman who was with Hank, how she talked about her mom, even the tenderness she had in her voice for a man who’d clearly stopped being a father to her a long time ago. The woman had a big heart and practically wore it on her sleeve, which was dangerous because that was how people like her got hurt.
Why was he even thinking about her like that? Madigan’s was part of an ongoing investigation, and she was a part of that investigation. That was it. That was all it could ever be.
He sighed, throwing his head back against the seat and letting his gaze linger on the roof of his car. He shouldn’t be thinking about her like that, but fuck, she was messing with his head like no woman ever had. Maybe it was all the time he’d been spending at Madigan’s. Maybe it was their talks. They’d probably said more to each other in the last few days than the whole time he’d known her, and it was - nice. He let out a ragged breath, his fingers still clutching the steering wheel. He seriously needed to quit this bullshit line of thinking.
His cell phone buzzed in his pocket, and he yanked it out, grateful for the distraction. It was a text message from Hallie.
Hallie: Are you busy?
Blake: No. Why?
Hallie: Can you stop by our place on your way home?
Blake sighed. Either Caden had already told her, and she wanted to talk about Vivian, or he hadn’t, and this had nothing to do with the woman who was turning their sense of safety upside down.
Blake: Be there in 20.
He pulled out of his parking spot and drove in silence to Caden and Hallie’s house. They lived outside the city limits near their friend Garrett, where homes sat on several acres of land and often had creek or lake access. Caden’s house had a creek running through the back end of the property, while Garrett’s property had a lake with a private dock.
When Blake pulled into their driveway, both Caden and Hallie were sitting outside on their deck, the little lights that wrapped around the roofline and down the posts, shimmering in the darkness. The sounds of crickets and a woodpecker filled the air, and the ambient noise of the trickling creek relieved some of the stress and anxiety Blake had been carrying with him all day. “What’s going on you two?” He asked as he closed the distance between his car and them.
The minute he stepped up onto the deck, Hallie stood and smiled in greeting, but then her smile faded. “What happened to you?” She asked, examining his black eye.
Blake raised his hand and touched the sore spot. “I got punched trying to help someone,” he said, not wanting to get into it about his night at Madigan’s. He looked over at Caden who was still sitting on the outdoor couch they had set up on the deck. The other man nodded, seemingly understanding that Blake didn’t want to talk about it and didn’t press him further.
Hallie reached out and touched his cheek, right under his eye. “Are you okay? Do you need ice?”
“I’m fine, really.” Blake gently took her hand in his. “I’ve gotten a lot worse as you know.” He was referring to the time he’d been shot and at his words, her hand lowered and she bit her lip. “Hey,” he said softly. “What’s on your mind? You guys don’t usually invite me over on a Monday night.”
Hallie straightened and looked him square in the eye. “Do you remember what you told me when Caden was rushed to the hospital after that paint can exploded in the church’s basement?”
Of all the things he expected her to say, that was not it. “No,” he said.
“You said it wasn’t my fault and that my gift wasn’t useless.” She motioned for him to sit and when he did, she sat beside him. “Even when I thought I had nothing else to offer you guys, no way to save the day, you stood there and insisted that I wasn’t useless or at fault. Remember?”
