Page 117 of Deadfall

“Or what?”

Whatever he saw on my face made him pause because he released my wrist and looked away.

“There are consequences to your actions,” he said.

I resumed stitching, but went easier on him. “I’m well aware—”

“No, I don’t think you are,” he said firmly. “I think you push to ensure that whoever you’re around ends up acting exactly like you predicted. If you know how they’ll act, you can have some sort of control over the outcome.” He moved his free hand between us. “Like this—you offered to stitch me up because you’re trying to see at what moment I’ll prove you right. If you do something nice, maybe I’ll expect something. If you poke too hard and choose violence, maybe I’ll retaliate in turn. It’s all a test. Or, really, more like a trap.”

I didn’t like how accurate his words were. I pressed my lips together and resumed stitching–albiet with a gentler hand.

“Not everyone is out to hurt you,” he said, softly.

I wanted to say something snarky back, but my throat closed, and I didn’t trust my voice not to give away how vulnerable his words made me feel—like he’d seen me.

I quickly finished and went to duck away, but Griffin rose to his feet and towered over me as I perched on the table. There was suddenly a whole swatch of tanned, toned skin right in front of my face. My traitorous pussy thought that was just awesome, while my brain fired off warning signals telling me I needed to run—or fight.

“You can poke, and push, and do whatever it is you need to do to test my boundaries,” he said. “You won’t find what you’re looking for.”

“Don’t be so sure,” I scowled.

A cocky smirk took over his features and he leaned in even closer. “The only thing I’m sure of is I will never do something to you without your permission. So, if that’s the edge you’re trying to push me over—bring it on, Emersyn—bring it the fuck on.”

The sound of my name on his tongue, again, and the declaration of asking my permission made me want to melt into a puddle at his feet. Quite frankly, it was embarrassing. I could feel the pink heat on my cheeks, which only made him smirk more, which only made whoever the horny demon inside me was more persistent.

“Isn’t this cozy?”

We both glanced over at Seven who emerged from the bathroom. Thankfully, he was fully clothed, even though I would have liked to see if his tattoos extended up his arms and over his—

What the fuck—I needed to calm the hell down. Seven already looked hot as fuck with his hair unbound as he let it air dry around his shoulders.

God, this wasn’t good.

Seven looked between the both of us with a look like he had some inside joke with himself. Griffin glared at him and moved into the kitchen where he shoved half of the quesadilla into his mouth. I became distracted by the view from behind, and with great effort, turned away before I embarrassed myself further.

It was then that I remembered something.

“You keep calling me by my real name,” I said.

Griffin and Seven both froze at the same time.

“Did Mahoney tell you?” I asked.

Griffin swallowed his food and looked at me sharply. “Mahoney knows your name?”

At my nod, Griffin exchanged a long, bleak look with Seven. I looked back and forth between them in confusion. Something was wrong.

“Fuck,” Seven muttered. “I think you need to tell her.”

Griffin’s jaw tightened and he fixed me with a long, expressionless look, the food on his plate forgotten. He wiped his mouth and walked back over to the med kit where he grabbed a bandage and slapped it over his stitches. He was stalling.

“Mahoney didn’t tell us,” Griffin said.

“Then, how do you know who I am?” I asked warily.

Griffin tapped the table like this solid man had suddenly developed a nervous tic. He looked at Seven one last time before his gaze settled on mine and held.

“Your father—” My stomach plummeted at his words. “Your father has been looking for you—we’ve been helping him.” If those words weren’t enough to shock me, his next ones certainly were.