Page 62 of Property of Fang
“I’ve told you enough damning information about me for one day, Nibbles. Leave me alone.” I may as well ask a bear to ignore my food.
Fang draws a deep breath.
I look away to stop the fucking butterflies in my gut from reacting to his stupidly gorgeous outline.Am I allowed to leave?The man has no damn right to wear leather so well. Nor any right to fill out jeans the way he does.
“I killed a man while his back was turned,” Fang admits. “Shot him while he ran away from me.”
My first instinct is to ask what’s so wrong with that if he was defending himself. Instead, I shut the fuck up and listen.
“It was only my third or fourth kill,” he says, folding his arms. “I was still young. Not legal age to drink, yet, but old enough that my father—also a King of Anarchy—believed it’d be an embarrassment to him if I weren’t involved with the club.”
“What happened to make you do it?”
“Smaller club tried to dupe us out of a deal. Took the goods and fired a shot off at my old man and his Road Captain before they paid for the stuff.” He shrugs. “The other club started it, but it was plain mayhem by the end of it.”
I understand why he tells me this; he wants me to understand I’m not the only one who regrets how they killed someone. Only, this is different. I didn’t defend a loved one. I don’t do it at my club’s request. And I sure as hell wasn’t in my right mind when I did.
“Killing someone isn’t as frowned upon around here as it is out in the civilian world,” Fang says, confirming my suspicions. “You can tell me what happened, Jenna.”
“I can’t.”
“Fuck,” he exclaims, spinning to pace away before turning back toward me. “Why do you keep being so damn stubborn?”
“I’m not being stubborn!”
“Then why won’t you just fucking say why you murdered her?”
Chests heaving, we stare one another down.Fuck him.So much for the fresh start.Why would I tell him now? What does it benefit me?
“Christ, Jenna.” He advances, gripping one of my shoulders and spinning me for the clubhouse. “If you won’t tell me, then Chaos will find other ways of getting the details. And trust me, you don’t want to go there.”
I’m well-versed in the style of coercion he references, especially if it involves that so-called meat locker he mentioned.
“I never said I didn’t want to tell you.” I shrug free of his hold yet maintain our pace back to warmth. Back to safety in numbers. “I just can’t.”
“Why?” He doesn’t look at me as he grits the question through clenched teeth. Just keeps on walking beside me, doing that fucking sexy swagger thing men do without realizing it.Ugh.
“Because I can’t remember. I know I did it. I know why. I just can’t remember how I got from the start,” I say, placing my hands to the left of me, “to the end.” Then shifting them to the right.
He stalls, swiveling to face me. “Like, you blacked out, or some shit?”
“Or some shit,” I murmur. “I don’t know. I just panicked, and when she kept winding me up, something snapped.” An involuntary shudder ripples down my back. “It freaks me out to think about it. I don’t like not being in control of myself.”
He says nothing, simply studying me as he toys with those goddamn twin piercings.
“I promise I’ll tell you when I remember.”Hopefully never.I start toward the house.
“Jenna.”
I have to turn back just to be sure I wasn’t imagining him saying my name.
“Chaos doesn’t trust you. And more than a few of the guys here feel the same.” He shifts his gaze to me. “I want to be able to help you move on, but I can’t do that if you don’t trust me.”
“Then give me a reason to.”
He stays silent as I leave.
Thought so.
