Don't Go Stealing My Heart - Kelly Siskind Page 0,101

better. Their familiar jousting he could do. But Alistair slumped and knocked his head into the headrest. “I think she’s seeing someone.”

With her history, Jack wouldn’t be surprised. He could sneer, tell Alistair he deserved everything Ava dished out, but he’d been on the receiving end of her whims, knew how it felt to be deceived. “She’ll always gravitate toward the brightest star in the sky. There’s no loyalty with a woman like that.”

Clementine, however, was loyal to a fault. She was willing to break her own heart, if it meant saving Jack. She could be giving her life for his family’s right now. Fire singed his lungs. He couldn’t stop picturing that bearded man at the concert, the way he’d scowled at Clementine, unrelenting in his attention. Same at the bar the night they’d kissed, with enough time in between for Jack to have warned her he was in town. If something happened to her, he’d never forgive himself for missing the signs.

Alistair sighed. “Should never have fallen for Ava.”

Eyes stinging from horrifying visuals, Jack forced his focus on their conversation. “Stealing her from me was too enticing for you.”

“I do love beating you.”

“Letting you win is my good deed for the year.”

“Hey—no way did you throw last year’s concert.”

He hadn’t. But it was so easy working up the man. “You’ll never know.”

“Jesus,” barked one of the guys from the back. “I’m gonna chop off that fucking hand.”

Alistair ignored the grumbling and glared at Jack. Jack smirked in return, the distraction calming his rattling pulse. No matter why Alistair was in his car, Jack’s nemesis was helping protect his family and was getting enough grief from Ava. “Thanks for coming,” Jack said quietly.

“Anything for that gold record.” The cocky comment was typical Alistair. The way Alistair reached over and squeezed Jack’s shoulder was not.

Yevgen pressed his chest to Clementine’s back, his foul breath wafting against her cheek. “Drop the knife, doll.”

Her hand slackened, but she didn’t let go. Jack had called her doll tonight, a way to lighten the mood after he’d said I love you and Clementine had gaped. She’d never get to explain her lack of reaction and confess that she loved him so much it felt like her organs had atrophied. Lying to him tonight had been the toughest con she’d ever performed.

Yevgen pressed his blade into her neck, and warm liquid dripped from the pressure point. She let her knife fall to the carpet.

“Well now, isn’t that better? I really have missed you. Think about you all time.”

“Funny. I haven’t given you a thought.”

“No? Not even when you see your scar?” He pressed his thumb into the blood trailing down her neck and smeared it around. “I’d love to see it for myself. Proud of my work.”

If Tami were here, she’d say Yevgen was nuttier than a porta-potty at a peanut festival. The man was beyond insane, and Clementine’s options were limited. Still, her survival instincts flared. She let her body get heavy, moved her weight to the balls of her feet.

Stay agile. Prepare to fight. Lucien was always in the back of her mind.

She judged the leverage it would take to twist her head and bite Yevgen’s ear. He’d for sure slice her neck before she succeeded. She could bite his forearm, though. Yank on it enough to loosen his hold and chomp down. Yeah, she could do that. She’d have to grab him before he sensed her move, give an explosive push. Her fingers tingled. She clacked her teeth together.

She would not die today.

Yevgen adjusted the knife—just a millimeter—enough for Clementine to surge. She clawed his forearm and wrenched it down, then bit his skin and stomped on his toe. His holler ripped through her eardrums and his knife jerked away from her neck, giving her the space she needed to crouch and grab her weapon. She stood, ready to rush him and drive her blade into his gut. His dark eyes widened, the first time she’d seen fear on his face, and she wavered.

She was about to sink a blade into someone’s flesh. Take a human life. Her knees shook with the implication, then she noticed her bite mark on Yevgen’s forearm, right over the tattoo he’d inked to commemorate her stabbing. This was do or die.

Her muscles contracted, ready to pounce.

“Drop the knife, Tangerine.”

She faltered and choked on air. The voice had come from behind her, but she’d recognize it anywhere. Lucien was here. He’d come for her, like he had