Page 32 of Necessary Cruelty

Zaya needs to come to the negotiating table, I remind myself. She has to put our past aside and deal with me, which means I have to reign in my tendency to turn malevolent whenever I see her face. This should be easy.

My hatred for her doesn’t compare to half a billion dollars.

Her form is just barely visible through the steel bars that cover the dirty pane of glass at the front of the store. Like always, she is behind the counter, although I have to wonder how a girl who doesn’t speak handles a job in customer service.

The orange smock she wears over her sweatshirt makes her look like a carrot that has just been pulled out of the ground, especially with the wild mop of dark hair flying loose around her head. The florescent polyester should make her look ridiculous, but I can’t stop the way my body always reacts to the sight of her, whether she is dressed in her finest or drooling in her sleep.

I’m hard as a rock.

A smile twists her lips. Her smiles are rare, like a ray of sunshine breaking through storm clouds. Usually I’d feel an urge to wipe it off her face, but it isn’t directed at me. My gaze moves to the other side of the counter and takes in the object of her obvious regard.

Jake Tully.

I tell myself to count to ten and calm down before I do something to sabotage my plan before it even starts.

One Mississipi.

This guy has been in town long enough to understand the rules of this game, but he clearly still needs a violent reminder.

Two Mississippi.

A nice guy who doesn’t have a decade’s worth of baggage, like a weed growing in a garden that doesn’t belong to him.

Three Mississippi.

And he makes her smile. The only smiles I ever see are the ones she gives other people when she thinks I’m not watching.

Four Mississippi.

My gaze shifts away from their faces as the fuckboy hands her a crisp twenty, their fingers touching for way longer than necessary.

A haze settles over my vision, casting everything in red.

Fucking ten.

The door is already slamming open in front of me, before I’ve even realized I’m moving. They don’t seem to notice me, which just ratchets my rage higher.

I should have known playing it cool wouldn’t be an option.