Page 80 of Devil in Her Details

“Yes,” the fiery lynx pressed.

“No. Over my rotting corpse.”

“Then don’t make me kill you, Dagger.”

Dagger glared at the beauty glaring back at him. He’d known, the moment she’d laughed earlier, almost a little diabolical, with that particular light in her honeyed eyes, that the next words out of her mouth were going to be a problem.

He’d been right.

She wanted to visit her shop. He didn’t have to be the smartest man in the room to know that was ill-advised. Calvington, that shite, clearly knew where Lilly lived. Knew that Dagger had taken up residence here with her, too.

The newspaper on the table proved that much.

It also proved the man was out to ruin her into submission. It was a particular kind of warfare, this. Not honest violence, which he understood and could counter, but the grinding pressure of reputation and exposure. The newspaper was a deafening warning. A look what I’m willing to do if you don’t submit article. Designed to make his lynx feel the ground shifting beneath her feet. It was the malicious scheme of a nob who knew he couldn’t take what he wanted by force and had decided to make everything else impossible instead.

And she wanted to march directly into the open?

No.

“It’s not safe,” Dagger repeated for the third time since she’d brought up the topic. It was the only argument he had that wasn’t I don’t want you to leave this house. Which wasn’t a damn argument at all. But just thinking of her stepping out made him restless. “Calvington could be watching the residence this very second.” He should have snapped all the bones in his body.

“I won’t cower from that man.”

“It’s not cowering.” Dagger sighed. “It’s staying put until we come up with a plan to deal with him.”

“Staying put accomplishes precisely nothing, and I have orders to fill.”

“What orders?” Dagger’s eyes narrowed on her. Lying little lynx. “You have dust gathering on your ribbons and things.”

“Yours.”

Dagger stilled.

She smirked. “Or have you forgotten your dagger belt?”

He hadn’t. And the fact that she hadn’t brought a damn jolt to his cock. His whole body hardened to an embarrassing degree. “Mine can wait.”

She stomped her foot impatiently and pointed to the list on the table. “I have things I want to retrieve from my shop, Dagger.”

Damn adorable. “I’ll send someone to retrieve them for you.”

“I want to retrieve them.”

He inhaled deeply, reaching down for calm he didn’t particularly feel. He understood. She wanted to prove she hadn’t been affected by the paper. Dagger dragged a hand through his hair. He understood, but he didn’t like it.

“If you’re so dead set against it, we can ask your pack of brothers to come, too.”

“Pack?”

“Pack of panthers.” She waved her hand. “You all have that air about you. Your brood. Though not all of you are panthers. There is a turtle in the bunch.”

Dagger clenched his jaw, irrational annoyance flaring. So he wasn’t the only panther, then? Just one of the pack. The brood. Indistinct. Hell’s bells. A violent urge to flip the dining room table seized him. He wrenched it right back down. Because the idea was entirely shite. He and his brothers were interchangeable in the eyes of anyone who didn’t know them. Fine. A wall of dark coats, hard expressions, and ruthless ways. He had never once cared about being distinct before. He cared now.

“Fine,” he growled. “We go together. You and I. Alone.”

She grinned at him, pleased with herself. “I knew you’d come around!”

Damn his existence. “If I didn’t, you’d probably just slip away like you did this morning, no?”