Nikki bit her lip. So that was why Jasper had wanted her dead. “You never told me that, Michael. You never trusted me enough, did you?"
He made a sound suspiciously like a deep-throated growl. “No other observations, while you're at it?
No other accusations?” His voice was almost mocking, hinting at the anger she couldn't see but could sense.
"There was this morning, when I woke alone.” But she'd killed someone since then. Her fingers tightened against the wheel, but she fought the rising fear, not wanting him to sense it. “I've had time to think."
"I just bet you have."
She shot him a quick look, unsure how to take his remark. His face was as remote as ever.
"So what did you come up with?” He shifted slightly in his seat, facing her. She didn't trust his tone. It was too polite. Too controlled. “One question."
"And that is?"
A quick glance at his face told her little, yet she caught a wisp of uncertainty in his thoughts. And wariness. She unclenched her fingers against the wheel and bit her lip in indecision. She didn't want to voice her doubts, didn't want to hear his answer. And the demons whispering madness in her mind could never force her to do this. She just had to know.
"I want to know what last night meant."
His gaze, though hidden by dark glasses, burned into her soul. “What do you think it was about?" She couldn't look at him. “Was it only a means to ensure I slept through the night? When our minds merged, did you make me sleep?"
A tide of anger seemed to leap into the car and swirl around her. She kept her eyes on the road, hands tense against the steering wheel. She didn't want to face the fury she could feel building.
"You really aren't capable of trust, are you?"
She wanted to scream that she'd trusted him more than she'd trusted any man in her entire life—except, maybe, for Tommy. Only Michael wasn't just a man.
And this wasn't about trust. It was about deception.