"Come near my wife again,” I said, “and I'll show the world just how much of an angry motherf*cker I can really be when someone touches what's mine."

"Boss," he gurgled, blood flooding his face and mapping it with little red veins. Sweat dotted his forehead. "Please, I'll never touch her again, no matter what. I wasn't thinking—"

"That much is true." I squeezed harder, not easing the pressure until his cheeks doubled in size and became unmistakably blue. I let him drop to the floor.

He landed with a bang, collapsing like a Jenga tower. His arms shielded his head and body, like he didn’t know where the next blow was going to land. I looked down at him disgusted, a worm I was tempted to squash.

He crawled away, across the room, afraid to look up at me. “I’ll apologize,” he whimpered into his chest, still crawling his way in the opposite direction.

“Don’t,” I spat. “Don’t f*cking go anywhere near her ever again.”

I left him to collect what was left of his self-esteem from the floor and climbed upstairs, finding Sparrow sitting on the edge of the bed, staring out the vast window. She didn't look up when I came in, just continued studying whatever it is she was fixated on outside. The sky? The tall buildings? A bird? Who the hell knew?

Her face was wrinkled in concentration, and the thought of Catalina being right about her hit me hard. She was a f*cking kid. She sure looked like one now. She was a kid, and I ate her * without even blinking. What’s more, I surprisingly enjoyed her sleek little body, and I knew I’d do it all over again the next time I got the chance. Eat her, f*ck her, lick her, toes to skull, and ride her in every f*cking position until every bone in her body hurt.

She was a kid, and I still wanted to do very grown-up things to her.

“This is the weirdest summer ever,” she pondered aloud. “The sunshine today is a lie. The sun’s out, but it’s still cold. Sunshine,” she repeated, “but a lie.”

“Lies are what keeps this world running, baby Red.” I took a step closer. She was so sweet. So f*cking weird, too.

"Why does it smell funny in here?" she asked dully, her forehead crumpling.

Of course, the room reeked of sex, but she couldn’t put the finger on that. Good thing I’d planned ahead and kept her sheltered from other men. I didn’t have time to chase all the dickheads who wanted to touch her and rip their heads off.

"He'll never touch you again." I dodged her question, taking a seat on the bed next to her. So many people had touched Sparrow without her permission. Connor. Paddy.

Even I f*cked around with her on the night of our wedding. Sure, she wanted it, but I gave her an unnecessary push, because she wasn’t really ready for me, hence her attempt to show me she was on her period.

The mattress sank under my weight, and I noticed my wife was so short, her feet were still dangling off the floor. She kept her hands tucked between her thighs and didn’t look at me, still staring ahead.

"Listen, Red. It’s not okay by me when people touch you against you will. Not Connor. Not me. Not anyone."

“Fire him,” she ordered simply. Under any other circumstances, I would have laughed or scared the shit out of her, but at that moment, when the lingering smell of my infidelity still hung in the air, I couldn’t. Even I had to draw a line somewhere.

“I need you protected,” I argued.

“I’m a big girl, and last time I checked, he was the one with a bruised face and asthma attack after our encounter.”

“Fine,” I agreed, but not easily. My lips twisted. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to scowl or smile. “Consider Connor gone.” I fished my phone out of my pocket and punched it with my thumb, placing it over my ear. "Calling you so you'll have my number. Happy?"

"Never with you.” Her face was neutral, void of feelings when her ring tone sounded in her purse.

I hated that look. It was the look she gave me before I hired her. Before I went down on her. Before I thought she’d cracked.

You’re a tough nut, Red.

“So what's that smell?" she repeated. "And where's that dress Maria gave me?"

"I took care of it for you. Thank me later."

Her hooded eyes told me she was not expecting any favors from me.

"Have you packed, or are you in the mood for testing my patience again?" I tried claiming some of my bite back.

"Already told you, I don't have a driver’s license. Not a passport. Not even a library card. Nothing. I can’t get through airport security."

I stood up and swung aside the painting of a nude that hid my safe. I pressed my thumb against the biometric pad and retrieved her brand new passport. I tossed it to her, and she opened it, staring inside the pages wide-eyed. It had a picture of her, a recent one, and it was legit. If possible, she looked even sadder.

“I would have gotten you a license, too, but I don’t trust you behind the wheel, what with your temper.”

“Really?” she sniffed, peering past me at the open safe. “The Department of State is on your payroll, too?”

“Even God can be bought for the right price.” I slammed and locked the safe, hoping she wouldn’t freak out at all the cash I kept there. You never knew when you might have to make a run for it.