Fracture (Blood & Roses #3-4) - Callie Hart Page 0,22

was shot the other night and the cops think some fucking crime lord they’re investigating has something to do with it. And you, apparently, are one of this crime boss’s ‘guys.’ They’re practically expecting you to drop on by, and voilà!” I scowl at him. “Here you are.”

Zeth looks a little puzzled. Nowhere near bothered enough by what I’m telling him. “Archie’s been shot?”

“Yeah. He’s been enrolled in WITSEC or he’s under police protection or something.”

“If he were under the witness protection program he’d be long gone by now. Different name, different history, different life.”

“Huh. That sounds pleasant. I should look into it, see if I can get enrolled in the program.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Dramatic? Dramatic? Really?” The pitch of my voice is reaching hysterical levels. He just stands there, watching me, taking in my expression and my body language like he can read the truth of things—the truth of me—that way. We glare fiercely at each other for a moment, neither of us backing down. And then he reaches out and takes both my hands, drawing them together behind my back. He does it so slowly and methodically that I don’t even think about struggling until he has me firmly restrained.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing, Zeth?”

“This isn’t about Archie Monterello. Or about some little girl whose parents haven’t taken care of her.”

“And how the hell would you know what this is about?” I snap. With our bodies drawn together, I can feel the heat flowing off him, see the heartbeat pulsing in the hollow of his neck. I try to pull back but he shakes his head at me, his face a mask of blank control.

“This is about the fact that you kissed me and I got mad at you. And now you’re mad at me. And,” he adds, his voice deep and low, yet unbearably quiet, “then I disappeared for two weeks and haven’t called or come to see you.”

I try to snatch my hands back, pulling against him, but this only leads to him crushing me to his chest. I pant in two infuriated breaths, then hiss, “Like I care if you haven’t been to see me, Zeth! Like I give a fuck!”

A low sound, half hum, half growl, builds in his throat. “Of course you give a fuck.”

I scoff at that, but I don’t think I’m very successful in convincing him that he’s wrong. “So you’re telling me you do at least know you’ve been a dick, then?”

“I know you’re upset.”

I want to cover my face, but I can’t. I do the next best thing and close my eyes. Once I’ve given myself a second to breathe, I open them, fixing him with a stony gaze. “Let me go, Zeth.”

“No.”

I just can’t believe this guy. “What the hell do you want from me? You’ve made it abundantly clear that you don’t want to be around me, so why—”

He makes a derisive sound at the back of his throat. Couples the sound with a crooked eyebrow. “How have I made that abundantly clear?”

“I think the whole, don’t ever fucking kiss me again, thing and then vanishing for two weeks speaks for itself, don’t you? Your attitude speaks for itself.”

This whole conversation seems to be entertaining him greatly. He battles the beginnings of a smirk as he says, “I don’t have an attitude. I just have me.” This statement doesn’t makes things any better. I consider hitting him with my purse. “Ask me where I’ve been the last two weeks,” he says.

Damn him. I exhale, trying to keep my temper under wraps. “Where have you been?”

“I’ve been making the necessary arrangements to go and collect your sister.”

Oh. I stop struggling a little.

Alexis.

A deep wave of grief washes over me. It’s like a small part of me has convinced itself that she’s dead and every time he says her name, it’s preparing me for the moment he returns without her. The moment when he tells me he was mistaken. That this person he’s found isn’t her at all, and that Alexis is already dead. I let the grief sink deep, back into my bones, and then say the only thing I can say, since he’s been working to help me. “Well. Thank you. I guess.”

“You’re welcome. Now ask me why I stayed away.”

I really don’t want to play this game anymore. I don’t want to feel so powerless, crushed up against him, unable to get away, either. I also don’t like how, thus far, he’s coming out of