Free Sympathy For The Devil by Asha King

of the bag creaking uneasily. Her lower lip trembled and even as he wanted to taste it—to delve his tongue past it to tangle with hers, drive her wild with the rough pleasure of teeth gently dragging across skin—he felt sickened at the terror his proximity brought to her.
    “You don’t want to invite me up?” he asked in a dark, threatening voice, not backing off. He might not be willing to touch her, but he wasn’t leaving without a confrontation.
    “I—”
    “Ask me questions? Take some pictures? Make up more shit for Harry Ingram to spread around town?”
    “What? No—”
    Fury boiled in his veins, tension working up his arms as he leaned closer still, dwarfing her. “Congratulations, you almost had me thinking you were actually interested and not a soulless scavenger looking for another out of context sound bite to fuck me over with.”
    She snapped her lips closed, swallowing nervously, and despite it all, it hurt . Even though he was deliberately scaring her, even though he thought she fucking deserved it, the look of fear she gave him made his stomach roll sickly.
    “But you’re scared now, aren’t you?” he growled. “Did Harry not warn you? Did he tell you I’m gonna strip you, tie you up, beat you, stab you to death, and toss your naked corpse in the creek? Like Chelsea? Like that other girl last night? Or did you just realize now that you’re alone on a deserted road with a killer?”
    Natasha held her breath and her silence, more than anything, struck him violently. His shoulders deflated, looking at her anew like he was watching as an observer. She was all but shaking. What the fuck was wrong with him?
    Devin stepped back abruptly, looking away and stalking around the truck again. He jerked the driver’s door open. “Put that in your fucking paper.”
    He didn’t glance at her as he climbed in, gave the keys a violent wrench, and spun the wheel away from her building, but he allowed himself a single look in the rearview mirror as he sped down the road.
    Natasha remained on the curb where he’d left her, staring at his retreat with her purse clutched to her chest.

 
     
     
    Chapter Eight
     
     
    The voice on the other end of the line yawned loudly before answering. “H-hello?”
    Natasha paced across her cramped living room, rounding the coffee table again and again. “I need to borrow your car.”
    Silence, then Malone seemed awake, his voice sharper. “What?”
    “I need to borrow your car. I’m on a job and I got made—the guy I’m following knows my vehicle.” She was still mortified at the thought. Such a newbie mistake, but it wasn’t until she went back to get her car in the morning that she noticed the stack of stuff from Harry’s office she’d neglected to hide. In her defense, she’d been in such a rush to get in Eight’s that she hadn’t thought to put them away, then when they went back to her vehicle, she’d honestly been staring at the stack of crap on the seat for so long all day, it hadn’t registered as a big deal.
    Whether it was a good thing or not he merely thought her a reporter, she couldn’t say. Yet.
    Malone sighed. “Tash—”
    “You took the truck on vacation. Your car’s still there.” She’d checked on her way back after picking up her own vehicle, of course. It wasn’t like she’d call him early in the morning on a whim.
    “It’s not even seven in the morning,” he grumbled.
    She glanced at her watch. “Your clock’s slow—it’s 7:03.”
    Malone groaned. “Fine. Whatever. The keys—”
    “Just inside the front door and yep, still have an emergency key to your house, don’t worry. Thank you!” Tash hung up before he could complain and raced for the door, shoving her phone in her back pocket. Before she could take three steps, she remembered the travel mug on the coffee table, doubled back for the drink, and then ran again. It was her third coffee of the morning; after not sleeping all night stressing over her run in with