Page 60 of Obsession
“That wasn’t the question.”
I turn slowly, making myself take the second I need to measure the hallway. The main room is behind Cade. The nearest camera is angled toward the garage door, not the bend where we’re standing. A tool cart sits to my right, low enough to trip someone if necessary, though trying that with a man Cade’s size would probably end with me flat on my back and angrier than before. He isn’t blocking the way with his body exactly, but he has positioned himself so I’d have to pass close enough for him to make it a choice.
“I’m allowed to walk down a hallway,” I say.
“Sure.” His mouth curls. “Funny thing, though. Every time Saint’s gone, you end up somewhere you can stick your nose in business.”
“If you’re accusing me of something, use the words.”
He pushes off the wall. “Fine. I think you’re a Rogue wearing our leather because Saint likes fucking pretty things that kneel. I think everybody’s acting real comfortable with Canon Ward’s son reading boards, touching files, and sitting in offices he hasn’t earned. I think rings don’t make blood disappear.”
My thumb moves over the silver before I can stop it.
Cade sees the motion and smiles like I’ve given him something. “There it is.”
The words land, but not where he wants them to. A week ago, they might have sent me into that familiar eyes down, stay silent kind of feeling. Today, the words mostly make me tired. Men like Cade aren’t complicated. The Rogues had plenty of them, men who learned to make cruelty look like concern and aggression look like vigilance. They need someone to flinch so they can call the flinch proof.
“What do you want, Cade?”
“I want to know what happens when Saint isn’t around to put his hand on your neck and make everyone pretend you’re worth the trouble.”
I let him step closer as his gaze flicks to my face, then to the ring again, then to the Obsidian cut on my shoulders. When his hand comes up, it isn’t fast enough to be an attack and not gentle enough to be harmless. He catches the front of my cut between two fingers and tugs, pulling the leather tight across my shoulders.
“Maybe I don’t give a shit what Saint thinks,” he says.
I look down at his hand on my cut, then back at his face.
“Let go.”
His smile widens. “Or what?”
“Or you’ll have to explain why you put hands on Saint’s husband in an empty hallway while most of the club was off site. You can say I provoked you, but you’re twice my size and standing between me and the main room. You can say you were checking the cut, but the garage camera still catches enough of this angle for Moth to build a timeline, and Moth likes timelines more than excuses.” I keep my voice as steady as I can, even though my heart is nearly beating out of my chest. “You might get one good swing in before someone hears. Maybe two if I hit the ground wrong. But Saint will come home, and I won’t have to say a word because you’re not careful enough to leave no marks.”
Cade’s fingers tighten in the leather.
I hold his gaze. “Let go.”
For a second, I think pride will make him stupid enough to escalate. His jaw shifts, the hallway seeming to narrow around us. Then a boot scrapes near the far end, and Cade’s attention cuts past my shoulder.
Bricks’ voice comes from behind me. “Problem?”
Cade releases the cut.
I don’t turn immediately. Giving him my back too quickly feels like surrender, and I refuse to hand him even that. His mouth twists as he steps away, hands lifting in a mockery of innocence.
“No problem.”
Bricks comes closer until I feel him behind me. “I didn’t ask if there is onenow. I asked if there was one.”
When I finally look over, Bricks already has his phone in his hand. My stomach drops.
“Don’t,” I say quickly.
His eyes move to the wrinkled front of my cut where Cade’s fingers pulled the leather, then to my face. “Too late.”
“It doesn’t have to be a thing.”
“Little Rogue, it became a thing when he put hands on you.”
