Hold On

“Ryan’s surveilling a house two doors down from yours?”


Merry asked that question and he did it in a voice that was low and tense, an indication that he was about to go apeshit crazy.

Slowly, I straightened, and even more slowly, I turned to my man.

I looked into the blue shards of his glittering, pissed off eyes.

Yep.

This close to apeshit crazy.

Needless to say, Ryan doing stupid shit (repeatedly), not to mention being a friend of mine, he was well-known by the entirety of the BPD.

“Merry—” I started.

I didn’t finish because he moved and he did it fast.

Lunging toward Ryan’s table, he slammed a fist down on it so hard the table jumped. Ryan also jumped. But Ryan didn’t otherwise move because Merry was still moving, this time so he had Ryan’s sweater in his fist and his face in Ryan’s.

“You got a job two doors down from Cher?” he growled.

“D-d-dude—” Ryan stuttered.

“Answer me!” Merry barked.

“Y-yeah,” Ryan whispered.

“Who put you on that job?” Merry asked.

“Merry—” I tried again.

“Shut it, Cher,” he clipped, his eyes not leaving Ryan. “Who put you on that job, Ryan?”

“I…I…n-n-no disrespect, Merrick,” Ryan stuttered, “but the dude who has me on the job would lose his mind, I shared that with anyone.”

Merry stared into his eyes, then pushed him off and Ryan’s chair tipped up on two legs. Ryan threw his arms out, wheeling them as his feet kicked so he wouldn’t slam to his back. He seemed suspended until his chair tipped forward and he was safe.

But I was not.

Because Merry had turned his attention to me.

“You know who’s got Ryan on this job?” he asked.

“Merry—”

“My name is not an answer to my fuckin’ question, Cher,” he bit out. “You know who’s got Ryan on this job?”

I looked into his eyes, my heart taking that moment to kick in, beating too fast.

This was me fucking things up.

I should have told him.

Merry this pissed off was a good deterrent to open sharing about things such as these, though, and if he gave me the opportunity to defend myself when he was calmed down, I would tell him that.

But the fact remained, he was Garrett Merrick. He was a cop, but he was just that guy. That guy who would want to know if someone he cared about was close to something not good. And he was definitely that guy who would want to know if the woman he was seeing and her kid were close to something not good.

Shit.

“Cherie…” he prompted on a sinister whisper.

I drew in breath.

“Ryker,” I told him.

His face turned to stone.

I moved closer to him, though not too close (his face was stone, but he was breathing through his nose in a way that was scary as shit).

I put my hand light to his abs and started talking.

Fast.

“I don’t know anything, honey. I just know Ryker warned me to stay away from the guy. And since he did, when I saw Ryan outside his house tonight, I lost it and called him in to give him a safety lecture.”

“You think, Ryker warned you to stay away from this guy, maybe you should tell your man the likes of Ryker told you to stay away from this guy?” Merry asked.

Okay.

There it was.

Relationship-wise, even though I’d failed the relationship test spectacularly (twice), I still knew right then that where I was with Merry was not a good place to be.

“Well…uh…” I began, carefully starting to pull my hand away from his abs.

I got nothing more out and didn’t even get my hand back because Merry’s shot out. His fingers curled around my wrist, pressing in so my palm was flat against his hard abs.

Normally, I’d enjoy the feel of his hard abs.

His blue ice look, which was freezing me from the inside out, curtailed my enjoyment of his hard abs.

“You’re seeing Merrick?”