Page 51 of Cross Me

“Stay away from her.” I jabbed a finger into his chest, knocking him back a few inches.

“Clara might put up with that—and God knows why—but I won’t. I don’t care who you are,” he warned me.

“You should.”

Brex moved behind him, waiting for one us to move. Apparently, there was a line they wouldn’t allow either of us to cross. I turned away, keeping my fists at my sides. “I’ll see you around.”

Anders shook his head as he strode back to the pub. “I’m looking forward to it.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

ALEXANDER

By the time we reached the house, I already regretted what had happened. Mostly, because I hadn’t gotten in a few more drinks before the fight. Now I was sober, bruised, bleeding, and I had to face my wife. No one had spoken on the ride back, but Brex stopped me at the door.

“I’ll tender my resignation in the morning.” He didn’t meet my eyes as he spoke. I wasn’t certain what I’d find if he did. Hatred? Shame?

“Why would you do that?” I asked him in a rough voice.

“It’s generally poor form to hit the person you’re protecting,” he said.

“I didn’t ask you out tonight as my bodyguard. I asked you as my friend.”

He snorted and I thought I saw the edge of a smile, but he held it back. “I feel I should tell you it’s poor form to hit your friends, too.”

“Not if they deserve it,” I told him. “But to be clear, I’m still pissed at you.”

“That makes two of us.”

“But you’re not resigning.” As far as I was concerned, that was the final word on that.

I made my way to the kitchen, grabbing a bag of frozen peas for my hand and digging a bottle of Scotch from the cupboard. Norris slid me a glass. He still hadn’t spoken.

“Care to get one more shot in?” I asked him, pouring a drink. I slid him the glass and took a swig out of the bottle. It burned down my throat, a reminder I’d made my own hell.

“I think you’ll get yours soon enough.” He sounded tired. If I had to put up with me, I would be, too.

“Time to face the firing squad.” I took another long drag from the bottle and abandoned it on the counter.

Neither of them followed me into the west wing of the house. With any luck, Clara would be asleep. Not that facing this in the morning would be any better. I had no hope that word of my indiscretion wouldn’t spread through Silverstone by morning. I had no idea who had seen, and I couldn’t imagine that Anderson would keep my secret. Not when he so clearly wanted me out of the picture.

If only he knew what I’d given him. An opportunity for a normal life. Yet, he was here rubbing that sacrifice in my face. It was unfair to judge him for it. He didn’t know better. But that didn’t stop me from hating him.

Clara sat up in bed the moment the door opened, rubbing her eyes.

“X?” she called out.

Busted.

“Go back to sleep,” I said in a low voice.

She was already flipping on the bedside lamp. Her eyes landed on me, taking in my sloppy appearance. Dirty shirt. Bruised face. She zeroed in on the cut still oozing blood on my eyebrow. So much for putting this off until morning.

“What happened?” The question was full of awe and a fair bit of righteous anger. She was giving me the courtesy of not jumping to conclusions, although she clearly had.

“The guys and I went to grab a drink.” That was true. I wasn’t lying to her. I was just leaving some things out.

“The guys and you went to grab a drink?” She repeated as though I had been speaking another language. “The guys and you went to grab a drink?”