Primal Pursuit - Page 170

I slide her a look. “You’re going to try, rabbit. And no, don’t fucking tell me either way. It’s better for your health all around if you fucking listen to me for once.”

I’m making light of it all, slick talk and smooth, cooltone. Nothing could be farther from the truth, because no matter how this ends, rabbit won’t ever be seeing me again after this. After tonight.

“Do this right, Poppy, and Alexius will make sure you’re okay. That you’re taken care of. I suggest you choose a life far from here.”

Dead silence descends in the car, and the air is so damn thick it’s a wonder we don’t choke from lack of oxygen.

“Why are you speaking like this?” she asks, fingers digging into the leather bag she’s hugging to her.

I tap my fingers on the wheel. “You’ll do it, and he’ll take care of you.”

“Why not you? Davian? Why?”

This time I turn to give her a look. “You know why.”

“You…”

“Jesus, fuck, Rabbit.” I keep my eyes on the road as the GPS takes me to the right address. “What the actual living fuck? I murdered your parents, and you’re asking me why not me?”

Her intake of breath is sharp, tinged with pain. “I’m aware.”

“So, why the fuck would you want me hanging around?” I’m genuinely interested in this. If I survive her murderous ways, of course.

If she gets murderous.

She doesn’t answer. For a beat. And then she says, “Because you owe me. You owe me. Big time.”

I almost laugh.

Almost. Except rabbit’s hanging by a thread. She’s all over the place and jumping through all the hoops for reasons I don’t even know if she understands.

“So,” she hisses, “why not you? You could at least make sure I was fine and dandy.”

“And as I fucking said, you know why.”

“Because you’re leaving me.”

“Something like that.”

It’s one of the things I fucking love about Rabbit. In this very moment, she’s caught up in the hoop of indignation and unleashing some weird-ass abandonment issues that probably have to do with her age, everything to do with the death of her parents and her sick fuck of an uncle, that she’s forgotten she wants to kill me.

She’ll remember again.

And there’s a part of me, a big part that’s fine with always sleeping with one eye open around her because I want her that damn much. I want to fuck her, chase her, own her. I want to hold her and kiss her. And I have a horrible feeling I just might be in love with her. Actually in love.

It’s something I don’t do.

Fucked up sex, sure. Kink and depraved acts, absolutely. Chasing the shit out of a pretty rabbit, fuck yes. But love?

I fucking have nothing with her.

I killed her parents. I need her to finish me or be finished with her revenge. Since I’m not overly keen on the first and I have doubts about the latter, if I can manage not to kill her, if I can walk away alive, I will, and I’ll never fucking see her again.

But first things first.

There are loose ends, and I don’t leave loose ends. And Poppy needs to finish her plan of retribution.

I park the car, lock the bag and the documents in the trunk, and hand her the keys. Then I lean against the vehicle and place a call, and I do something I never do. I place it on speaker phone.