Page 10 of The Crimson Wolf
I stutter. “I don’t know. Looser, non-see-through clothes, maybe a badge, a dorky hat.”
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you with my attire, but I’m not sure you have any room to judge.” He motions his gaze down to my chest.
I look down at my white tank top, completely soaked and revealing my lacy black bra. “Excuse me!” I yell in horror as I wrap my arms around my chest.
“I’m just pointing out the hypocrisy in your slut shaming.” He pulls a carton from his pocket and brings a cigarette to his lips. The rain has completely stopped, allowing him to light it, even as water drips from his forehead. “Now, to direct you back to my initial question. Why the hell are you out here in a storm? Didn’t you hear aboutthe attacks that happened out here? Are you trying to get yourself killed? Do I need to call a suicide hotline?”
“Actually, that’s why I’m here! I work for the New York Times, and I’m here to investigate the attacks.”
He gives a disgusted chuckle. “Oh, figures. I knew I could smell a vulture. Can’t you just let the families heal in peace? Why must you dig your nose where it doesn’t belong?”
I’ve never condoned violence, but right now, I could ruin this guy's pretty little face. I’m surprised he’s managed to keep it intact with a mouth like that.
“Look, I’m not here telling you that you shouldn’t be doing your job. Besides, people need to be aware of the truth. The truth makes people safe. You know damn well there’s nothing normal about those attacks, and it’s becoming more and more apparent to me that something is going on here.”
He’s silent for a moment, which is surprising since he hasn't stopped berating me in the last five minutes since I’ve met him.
“You’re wrong,” he finally says.
“Oh, I am?”
“Yes. You said you’re not telling me I shouldn’t be doing my job when, in fact, you are here arguing with me instead of leaving like I asked.”
“You never asked me to leave! You just asked me why I was here.”
He scoffs. “You know what? You’re right. I apologize. Please get the hell out of here. Thank you.” He smiles at me, and I have to stop myself from slamming my fist into those pearly whites. God, his smile is like something from a toothpaste commercial.
“Fine. I’m leaving, but I will be back.” I walk toward the edge of the clearing and fish around in my pockets for my keys. I stop in my tracks. “Shit.” It starts raining again as if God is playing some cruel joke on me.
“What?”
I turn back to him, surprised that he’s still standing in the spot I left him in.
“Nothing.” I look around on the ground and trail back to where I examined the footprint. “It’s just… my keys.”
He laughs. “Of course, you lost your keys.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I whip around, my soaking wet red hair slapping me in the face.
“I’ve just known you for five minutes and can already read you like a book.”
I drop my hands, feeling utterly defeated. “What is your problem? I don’t even know you. Why are you being so mean?” Tears push at my eye ducts, and I turn around before he can see my tears. I’m not usually the type to get emotional, but this whole day has been a whirl ofemotions. Between thinking I’m going to be eaten alive to being completely disappointed in men—I can’t take it anymore.
He sighs and remains silent for a moment. He must notice I’m crumbling because his tone softens. “Look, I’m sorry, okay. I don’t deal with people often, and you almost got hurt, and I don’t like when people get hurt in my woods.”
I breathe in, trying to stall my tears. I must admit, his half-assed apology softens the sting of the day just a tiny bit.
The rain pelts harder.
“You’re not going to find your keys in this weather. Why don’t you just come back to my place, and you can call someone to pick you up?”
“No thanks.” I continue my search on the ground. I’m already dirty and completely soaked. Why worry about the rain?
Lightning cracks overhead.
Great.
I stand up and sigh. “Fine, but just to let you know, I am experienced in Krav Maga. Try anything, and I’ll kick your ass."
