Page 51 of Lethal Attraction

Maybe because no one ever has before.

No one has ever wanted my company enough to chase after it. No one has ever looked at me as if losing me would matter. No one has ever asked me to stay like it was less of a request and more of a necessity.

I thought this side of me—the one that still yearns for connection—had died long ago with Brooks. I’m quickly realizing that maybe that part of me was never terminal. Brooks hurt me, but he didn’t kill me.

Because Reed is breathing a life into me that’s terrifying in its intensity.

We’re seated in a quaint spot, with dark, muted light fixtures that hang from above. The stools below us are scratched wood and remind me a lot of Dale’s, the assassin back in the compound who owns a whole bar out in his backyard. Along the furthest wall, bartenders move in front of a tall wall filled with glass bottles of whiskey, vodka, and wine.

The afternoon regulars are slowly ambling in from the street, shouting greetings at the staff as they take their seats at the bar. A few TVs play sports games in full swing as the atmosphere settles. But my attention isn’t on the boisterous game.

I’m sweating over meeting Reed’s friends.

Emma is stunning and not at all what I was expecting. She’s soft spoken with an aura that bleeds wisdom and kindness. She tucks her dark curls behind her ear as she offers a kind smile to me, her pixie-like features softening. “So, Thalia, what do you do for a living?”

“I’m a personal assistant,” I shrug, the lie rolling off my tongue.

Taryn snorts into her beer immediately, catching me off guard and causing me to blink at her. She’s a little tipsy off of three drinks—a lightweight.

“What?” Reed asks, his voice edged with something that makes my spine straighten. Is he angry?

Taryn lifts both hands innocently, grinning around the rim of her glass. “Nothing. It’s just…” Her eyes flick between me and Reed. “That’s the least believable thing I’ve ever heard. I mean, come on! Just three weeks ago, the cops showed up at the hospital looking for her! That doesn’t seem a little strange to anyone else?”

Emma quickly slaps a hand over her wife’s mouth, chuckling awkwardly as her eyes crease at me. “Sorry. She gets very outspoken when drunk.”

Reed’s hand is gripping his glass so tightly I swear I can hear it cracking under the pressure. Me? Heat prickles the back of my neck as a deadly calm washes over me. I’ve been in this line of work long enough to know that overreacting and causing a scene is practically screaming the truth at the top of my lungs. I may be fucking insane, but I’m not stupid.

I flick my straw paper towards her as my head tilts and my tone comes across even and steady. “Taryn, do you think I’m in the mafia?”

Everyone pauses before she bursts out laughing, loud enough to gain the attention of the tables closest to us. Emma cracks a small smile, rolling her eyes at her wife as Reed shakes his head, reclines back, and wraps an arm around my shoulders.

My heart pounds (because of course it does) and I feel like a teenage girl finally getting to date her high school crush.

Taryn sloppily points at me across the table. “You have the posture of someone who looks like they’ve buried a body or two. I watch Criminal Minds.”

“Oh, do you?” I muse.

Taryn nods vigorously, nearly missing her mouth when she takes another sip of beer. “Religiously. Which means I know things.”

“God,” Emma mutters into her drink. “Here we go.”

Taryn ignores her completely and points at me again, as if she’s presenting evidence to a jury. “Exhibit A: your posture. Nobody sits that straight unless they’ve either served in the military or robbed graves.”

“Those are wildly different things,” Reed says dryly.

“Exhibit B,” Taryn continues, louder now, “you evaded the police.”

I quirk a brow. “I didn’t know they were looking for me, and if you must know, I was questioned a few days after leaving against medical advice. I was just an unlucky bystander who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time with a crazy ex-boyfriend on the loose.”

Reed’s arm tightens around me at the word ex-boyfriend, but he doesn’t pull away. He knows who Brooks is, and I don’t plan to keep my life a secret. We haven’t talked about anything yet, but this should tell him all he needs to know.

“So he’s an ex-boyfriend?” Reed asks quietly, his lips ghosting the shell of my ear.

“Mhm,” I hum, turning towards him and making our noses brush.

“Permission to lay him out if I ever meet him?” He asks as his jaw twinges.

Heat ignites in my stomach. “Permission granted.”