Page 41 of Dressed to Kill
"Shut. Up."
"Just saying. Told ye on Sunday. Ye've ignored me a fair amount this week."
He looked up. His jaw was tight enough that I could hear his teeth. Then he saw the jacket on my shoulders.
"Take that the fuck off."
The silk came off in his fist hard enough to rock the chair. The jacket hit the floor, and he put his heel on it and ground.
"Possessive bastard, aren't ye?"
"Fin."
"I'm just —"
He grabbed the back of my neck and kissed me.
It wasn't soft, and it wasn't kind. He kissed me like he wanted to put me through the chair. He tasted of vodka and cordite and bad decisions. I'd waited a week with a split lip he'd given me, with his cowardice, with his fucking back-out, and the second he gave me his lips I bit them. He grunted and kissed me harder. The metal taste of the drug came up the back of my throat and I kept going.
He pulled back like I was the problem. His hand was still locked on my jaw, and he hadn't decided yet whether to let go or break it. He half looked like he wanted to hit me. The other halflooked like he wanted to kiss me again. I'd given him about a second to make up his mind.
Then I slapped him.
The sound was sharp in a room with three dead men. His head turned with it. His eyes came back. They weren't angry. They were tired. They were grateful. He'd known he had it coming from the drive over.
"That was for being a fucking coward." My voice cracked.
I caught the front of his shirt in both fists and hauled him in for another kiss, this one slow. His hand moved from the back of my head to the side of my face and stayed there until I let him go.
"And that was because ye came for me, ye fucking idiot."
"I earned that."
"Aye, ye did."
He pushed up off his bad knee with a grunt and shrugged out of his coat. He stepped round behind the chair and dropped the coat over my shoulders, settled it, pulled it closed at my front.
The weight of it nearly put me through the floor. The wool was heavy, warm, and smelled of his cologne. I closed my eyes for a second. If I'd looked at him in that moment, I'd have done something I couldn't take back.
"Better?"
"Aye."
"Up."
"Bossy."
My legs had some opinions about being mine again. Aleksi got past them. He had a hand on my elbow, and that hand was non-negotiable about whether I walked, so I walked. The shop was longer leaving than coming in. Either that or my legs were liars.
Gregori had the car at the curb, engine running, eyes ahead. He didn't look at me in his boss's coat. He didn't look at his boss in shirtsleeves.
"Cleanup crew?" was all he said.
"No time. Murphy can't hold four blocks forever, and the kid needs Collins." Aleksi pulled his door shut. "Leave it. It'll cost me. Drive."
He drove.
I slumped against the back of the seat the second I got in. The leather was cold, and I didn't fucking care. Aleksi was next to me. Aleksi's coat was on me. The second the door shut, I started shaking, adrenaline finally catching up to me, and he didn't say a word. He let me shake.
