Page 3 of Ruined By King

"Then I'm getting air."

"Prez, we're outside. We're literally surrounded by air."

"Rogue." I look down at him, and something in my expression makes his smirk falter. "Leave it alone."

He exchanges a glance with Lock. I don't wait to see what passes between them. I'm already moving, letting the crowd swallow me as I track her through the maze of people and bikes and flickering light.

This is a bad idea. I know it's a bad idea. Every step I take is another nail in a coffin I'm building for myself, and I can't seem to stop swinging the hammer.

She stops at a taco truck near the edge of the rally grounds, away from the thickest part of the crowd. Digging through her back pocket for cash, head down, shoulders tight. Even from twenty feet away, I can read the tension in her body. She doesn't want to be here. She's just going through the motions, playing the role of Rocky's loyal daughter while something inside her strains against the leash.

I know that feeling. I know it bone-deep.

Turn around, I tell myself. Go back to your brothers. Have another beer. Forget about her.

I walk right up beside her.

"The carnitas are decent," I say. "Skip the chicken."

She goes still. I watch it happen — the slight stiffening of her spine, the catch of her breath. A man's voice, too close, when she thought she was alone.

When she turns, those brown eyes go wide for a split second before she locks it down. She knows exactly who's standing next to her now.

Christ.

Up close, she's even more dangerous than I remembered. There's fire banked behind that careful expression, and a stubbornness in the set of her jaw that makes me want to test it. Her lips press together — deciding, calculating, probably weighing how much trouble she'll be in if anyone sees us talking.

"You're a food critic now?" she asks. "Thought you just threatened people for a living."

"That's more of a hobby. I like to stay well-rounded."

Her mouth twitches. Almost a smile. She kills it before it can fully form, but I saw it. That tiny crack in her armor.

"I know who you are," she says.

"Good. Saves time on introductions."

"And you know who I am."

"Rocky's daughter. Road Kings princess. Off-limits in about fifteen different ways." I hold her gaze. "Yeah. I know."

"Then you know you shouldn't be standing here."

"Probably not."

"So why are you?"

"Saw something I wanted to taste."

The words land exactly the way I meant them to. Her lips part, just slightly, and I watch the flush creep up her neck.

She stares at me. I can see her trying to figure out my angle, searching for the trap. She won't find one. There is no angle. There's just this — me, her, and the dangerous pull between us that I'm done pretending doesn't exist.

"Is this some kind of power play?" she asks. "Getting close to Rocky's daughter to send a message?"

"If I wanted to send your father a message, I wouldn't be subtle about it."

"Then what is this?"