Page 14 of Beast

Dammit.

I tried to think of a lie because I didn’t want Grady to know I didn’t have a ride. I didn’t want him to feel guilt-tripped into driving me home. “My friend’s car’s gone. Let me text her real quick.”

He grabbed my hand as it slid into my purse. “Gone? She left without texting you?”

I checked my phone. Yup. Nada. “Well, technically I left without telling her though I did text her that I’d met someone. I’ll call a cab.”

He turned me to him. The starlight shone in his glass eye. “I don’t trust cabs. Stay with me tonight, and I’ll take you home tomorrow.”

I couldn’t get a read on him. Earlier he offered to drive me home; now he was telling me to spend the night. Did he really want me to stay or was he just worried about my safety? “Well, I trust cabs so I’m going to just call one.”

“Stay.” His grip tightened on my arm, but still I felt safe.

“Okay.”

He put his arm around me and we walked back up to his apartment.

Now it was awkward.

He nodded, and then sat down, this time across from me. His gaze leveled me.

After a long swig of his beer, he finally spoke. “Where have I seen you before?”

Great. My insides quivered.

My gut wrenched as I thought about telling him the truth. If I had any hope of dating this man, this hero, I’d better not lie to him. After all, he’d been honest with me. But this situation was awkward enough. If I told him, I was sure he’d see me as some spoiled, rich reality star—the polar opposite of him being famous for saving his men’s lives. But I wasn’t spoiled or rich. I’d left that life. I wanted to help people who had gone through trauma. People like Grady, people like my mother.

People like me.

My hand rubbed my face. “Not sure, I guess I have a familiar face.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not that. I may have only one eye, but I never forget a face. I’ve fucking seen you before. Don’t lie to me.” His voice was now gritty, rough, angry—a wave of fear flashed over me. I was alone in an apartment with a Marine with PTSD. He was trained to kill. Hell, he probably had killed.

This was it. This was the moment, one of those pivotal moments I was certain I would agonize over for years to come. I could tell this man my truth in the hopes that we could turn this one-night stand into something more. But I knew from experience that the second he knew I had been on television, he would probably assume I was one of those trampy celebrity types who went home with everyone they met. Most men saw me only as a conquest once they learned about my past.

That fluttery feeling that I had had in my belly was now replaced by knots.

No, I couldn’t allow a man I didn’t know didn’t trust into a part of my life I’d said goodbye to forever.

“I’m not sure. Maybe you’ve seen me at another party or around town.”

He exhaled, an audible sound of his disgust. He could probably tell I’d lied to him.

Great. I had just ruined this night.

After a few moments in silence, his phone rang. Saved by the bell.

“Hello? . . . Yeah, man, hold one sec.” He looked at me. “It’s my buddy, his wife just left him. Make yourself at home.”

He opened the sliding glass door and stepped onto the balcony, closing the door quickly behind him. I wanted to give him some privacy, so I grabbed my purse, headed into his bedroom, and went into the bathroom.

One look in the mirror, and I almost didn’t recognize myself. My hair was wild, my eyes had mascara pooled under them, and my cheeks were splotchy.

I left the bathroom and something shiny caught my eye. His nightstand drawer was ajar, and a glimpse of steel deflected off the moonlight.

A gun.

A motherfucking gun.