I gritted my teeth, balled my hands intofists, and thought about kicking the dash.
Thought about it, that was, until he shotme another one of those truly disapproving looks. Maybe I shouldhave chosen that exact moment to shut the hell up and mentallyprepare myself for what would be waiting for me at the policestation. Instead, I tilted my head to the side and bared my teeth.“Where exactly do you get off with this, anyway? Why are you takingso much pleasure—”
Despite the fact hewas driving, and we were currently negotiating a fairly trickycongested intersection, he tilted his head and turned all the waytowards me. It was the slowest, scariest, most damn intimidatingmove I'd ever seen.
“Ah, the traffic. Pay attention to thetraffic,” I gulpedthrough my words.
“You think I need half a mind to negotiatethis traffic, let alone deal with you?”
The look in his eyes was way pastsanctimonious now. It achieved some pure level of indignation mixedwith spite. And it made my blood boil. I clenched my teeth until Ithought I would lose all circulation to my lips.
Maybe I wasn’t okay with magic and myso-called abilities yet. But there was one thing I was getting ahandle on pretty quickly – Max.
I didn’t honestly think he’d try to attackme like he had when we’d first met. If you believed him, it hadbeen an honest mistake. He’d forgotten about Joan’s death – and thecosts of protecting her in her final fight had sent him into a dazefor weeks. When he’d seen me at thedoor, he’d thought I was another fairy muscling in on histurf.
And now I didn’t think he’d actuallyphysically attack me, the proverbial verbal gloves were off. “Irepeat, where exactly do you get off? And don't give me thatbullshit explanation about you being contracted to protect mygrandmother and following through with her final wish to protectme. You wouldn't be here unless you had to be.” It was my turn toact intimidating as I leaned over and sneered right in his face.“So,” I asked once more, “Where exactly do you get off?” I had mymother to thank for my ballsiness. For a little Chinese woman, shenever backed down from a fight. Heck, she created most of them, butthat was an irrelevant point at the moment. Point was, you never showed weakness.
Well, in the real world. When you weredealing with humans and not jacked up Scottish fairies with bicepsthat could tear off mountain caps.
Suddenly, we came to a screeching stop.Which was kind of inconvenient, considering I'd been leaning rightover to sneer into his face. As heslammed on the brakes, I tumbled forward, and somehow, somefreaking how – despite the laws of physics – I ended up with myhead in his lap.
“You can find out how I get off,”he said, tone shaking throughhis body and shifting into me until I finally found the balance tojolt out of his lap.
I pressed myself against the far window,hoping like hell my cheeks didn't turn neon red. Hope, however, wasdashed as I felt a fresh new supply of blood blossom over my faceand down my neck. Though I couldn't see myself, I could appreciateI would be brighter than the sun.
And no, it hadn't exactly escaped myattention that he’d used the words get off while my head had been buried in his lap.Realizing that, my cheeks became even redder. But, like I’d said, Iwas my mother's daughter, and I was never one to back down from afight. I pressed my lips together. “You think you're so smart. Youthink you're holding all the cards. Well, you’re nothing more than a prick—” I began.
He leaned past me and pointed out the window. He came closeenough that his arm all but brushed against the underside of myless-than-considerable bust.
I jerked backward, even though somestupid, mutinous little part of my mind suddenly wondered what itwould feel like to touch that rigid, taut bicep.
He didn't point past me for long. Justtapped the window. “You get off here,” he said.
Hello, blush. Move over and meet total complete mortification.
Because yeah, I couldn’tdeny the thrill that escapeddown my stomach and charged hard through my pelvis as I felt hisarm brush against my shoulder. It took me all of several moreseconds to actually twist my head and look through the window.Because he wasn't talking about getting off in that sense, was he?Nope.
“The police station is here,”he proffered in that deepbrogue.
When I didn't move quickly enough, heleaned past me again, opened my door, and shoved it with a hardmove.
My door swung open, and my stomachbottomed out. In my head, I'd kind of been hoping that I'd be ableto get out of this some way. I’d be able to state a compellingenough argument about my total lack of ability to psychically finda killer. But hey, in between arguing with this numbskull andconvincing myself I couldn't feel anything for him, we’d alreadyarrived at the police station.
My gut did its best version of an Olympicpole-vaulter as it somersaulted and twisted in my torso.
My mouth became so dry, I swore Iwould retch, and as Ishifted my attention and saw the satisfied glint in his eye, Isimultaneously wanted to throw up on him and punch him.
I, of course, did neither. A sense offoreboding building in my stomach, I turned and shifted my fullattention to the police station.
Snap – I felt the threads of mydestiny unraveling. Ormaybe they weren’t unraveling –maybe they were tying themselves around my throat so they couldstrangle me. Because I knew full well that if I stepped foot inthat station and pretended Icould solve this murder, my life would end. Violently. It wasn’tjust that I had no stomach for brutality, it was thatI was a frickin’fake fortune teller. Yes, I’d been able to tell the future for an itty bittyfraction of a second when Max had attacked me, but I had no cluehow to extend that ability, nor did I want to. It had been the mostsickening, awful experience of my life.
Though all I wanted to do
