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Her glare is like a three-alarm fire. “What the hell is your deal? Of all the fetishes out there, you chose manhandling women?”
My jaw works. “I told you, I don’t hurt women.”
“Oh, so I’m the exception?” A derisive sound falls from her mouth. “Because I’m scarred from head to toe, so I don’t count, is that it?”
Red-hot fury flashes before my eyes, my voice taking on a hard edge. “That’s not it.”
She tips her head to the side, sarcasm dripping from her tone. “Remind me, again. Pinning me against the wall and the gun beneath my chin…was that you or your evil twin?”
I step closer. “You need to start explainin’ shit.”
She scowls, attempting to skirt past me, but I’m quicker and crowd her with my body. “Did no one ever teach you about personal space?”
I swear, I’m about to grind my molars to dust. “You’d better start explainin’ what else you’re hidin’.”
“Or what?” she snaps. “You’ll threaten me with your gun again?”
Aggravation has my fingers curling into fists. “Do you have a goddamn death wish?”
“No, but I’m sure as shit not going to be bullied by a dude in a gang.”
I loom menacingly over her, and she lifts her chin stubbornly to meet my gaze with one as icy as my own. “You’re hidin’ shit, and I deserve to know about it after this mornin’.”
She lets out a harsh laugh. “Deserve? Oh-ho. Let’s recap, shall we? Which one of us is in a gang that’s known for brutal violence?”
I maintain my stony stare but say nothing.
She raises her hand in the air, her expression one of faux glee, and her tone matches it. “Ooooh! Oooh! I know!” Her expression drops, features mutinous. “That would be you. So, maybe don’t expect people to just bare their soul or life story when you’re known for not only mediocre sex, but for killing people, too.”
Without missing a beat, she rushes on, her head tipped to the side quizzically. “The more important question here is, how the hell did you not stop with everyone else in there?”
Edginess plagues me as I rake my hands through my hair. “Hell if I fuckin’ know. What kind of crazy shit are you pullin’?”
Expression clouding with anger, her lips press thin. “You’re such an ass—” Her mouth abruptly snaps shut, and she tips her head to the side, her brows drawing together. “Was it from the start?”
I stare at her for a beat, trying to figure out what the hell she’s asking me. “Was what from the start?”
“Did you stay aware the entire moment—in the present—when I stopped time?”
I part my lips only to snap them closed, because…shit. I’m not entirely sure. Mentally, I cycle through what just happened and what I recall.
“When that asshole pulled the switchblade, I was ready to draw my weapon…” I frown in concentration before it dawns on me there’s a gap in my memory. “All I remember next is you prying my fingers off that motherfucker’s wrist.”
“You don’t remember me taking the cash from your pocket?”
Unease plagues me. “No.”
Her words emerge slowly, painted with surprise, as her eyes drop to my hands. “It was only because I touched you. When I took the money, it was folded and sticking out of your pocket. That must be why it didn’t happen then.”
A hint of wonder colors her gaze when it lifts to mine. “It only happened when I moved your fingers off Clay’s wrist.”
I’m bombarded by the sensation of icy cold fingers trailing down my spine. “This hasn’t happened before?”
Her top teeth sink into her bottom lip, and she shakes her head. “Never. I’ve never done it and had someone not”—a crease forms between her brows—“stop with everyone else or return to normal before I started time again.”
Stepping away from her, I grip the back of my neck, the muscles stiff as a motherfucker. “Christ, this is a shitshow.” I can’t help but toss another glance at the people still fixed in place. It’s weird as fuck.
Putting more distance between us, I tip my head toward the door. “Let’s go.”
