Page 41 of Ruthless Salvation
Oran’s lips thinned. “The address she gave wasn’t valid. Is there anything else you can remember from your interactions with her that would give me any info about her at all?”
“Not off the top of my head, but I’ll give it some thought. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, this is all very helpful.” Oran placed a hand on Storm’s shoulder. “Could you take me by the laundromat and nail salon to show me exactly where you were? I’m happy to give you a ride so it won’t be a pain.”
“Absolutely. Anything I can do to help. I’m off tomorrow if that works.”
“No, she’s working,” I blurted, sounding like I’d just emerged from the Cro-Magnon Era. I couldn’t help it. I’d already envisioned chopping off Oran’s fingers for touching her.
Storm stared at me with wide eyes. “It’s my day off.”
“Not anymore. We changed the schedule, remember?” I tried to sound nonchalant but knew it came off a little churlish.
Oran shot me a raised brow in his gray suit with perfectly styled hair and a face that wasn’t covered in faded bruises from a fight.
Yeah, asshole. Stay in your lane.
“Is there a day that works better for you?” Oran asked me rather condescendingly.
“Sunday. We’ll meet you wherever it is you need to go.”
“Whatever, man,” he said under his breath. “Storm, I appreciate all your help. We’ll get together on Sunday.” He cut a glare in my direction before excusing himself.
I grimaced as I pushed off in the opposite direction, hoping to lick my wounds in the privacy of the supply closet, except Storm didn’t get that memo. The swoosh of her hurried steps chased me.
“What the heck was that all about?” Her voice wasn’t as accusatory as it could have been, but I still felt defensive.
I pretended to scan the contents of a shelf. “He told you. He’s looking for Darina.”
“Torin Byrne, you know what I mean.” She shut the door behind her and tried to look stern. “Why did you freak out about me showing Oran the places Darina had been?”
“I thinkfreak outis a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you?”
Lie. Deflect. Dismiss. Shit, was I gaslighting her?
“You forget you’re talking to a Southern girl who knows all about being dramatic. Tor, I told you I don’t want to feel threatened, and when you get all scary possessive, guess what?”
Fuck, she was hot when riled.
My eyelids lowered like a well-fed cat when I looked at my avenging angel. “You’re right.” I walked toward her until her back was up against the door. “I was feeling possessive. I know how appealing Oran can be. Women have always lined up for a chance with him. Is it so shocking that you might want the same?” I trailed my hand from her chin along her jaw and down the column of her neck, thrilled when her breathing grew shallow and lips parted.
“I’m only interested in helping him find Darina.” Her voice dropped an octave, spurring me on.
“That’s how his type lures you in. The well-dressed gentleman with good intentions. You’ll never. See it. Coming.” My hand continued down toward the outside curve of her breast. Her back arched, eyes dilating.
“What you don’t realize,” she said breathlessly, “is that I’ve had polished and sophisticated.”
“And?”
“It’s just a facade. I’d rather have honesty any day of the week.”
I placed my palm over her ribs and trailed my hand down to her waist. “And what if honest turns out to be a little fucked up?”
Her hands came up to cup either side of my neck, giving me all the encouragement I needed to continue my path down to the apex of her thighs. I cupped her sex, the feel of her soft warmth sending my dick half mad with need.
“Who says we aren’t all a little fucked up?”
That was it. I was going in.