The fact he thinks that’s a defense at all proves that he’s stupid enough. “They organized a hit on someone. That didn’t raise red flags with you?”

He tries for another shrug. “Hey, man, we’re all just trying to get by out here. What’s one person’s red flag is another’s ideal quality.”

“Again: organized hit. Crime lord. Those are not ideal qualities.”

“Yeah, but don’t we all wish we could find someone who would kill for us?”

“I’ve literally never wanted that a day in my life.”

“Ah. Well. I am a romantic at heart, so …”

I raise my hands, giving my head a little shake. “How did we get here?”

“Well, your name came up for a job⁠—”

“I mean this conversation.”

“That’s anyone’s guess, but I’m enjoying myself.”

He’s … enjoying himself. We have him handcuffed to a chair because he tried to kill me, fucked up, and is now the one people are after, and he’s enjoying himself. I’m struggling to work out if Perry is the most laid-back person on Earth or is completely oblivious to the danger.

He makes a smacking sound with his lips. “Any chance of some water? I’m parched.”

“You’re handcuffed.”

“Sippy cup, maybe?”

Not for the first time in the last few weeks, I’m struggling to believe this is real and not an elaborate dream. And considering it’s a choice between talking to him some more or getting him the water to make him shut up, I go for the second option.

Without a word, I cross to my wet bar, fill a cup with water and ice, and then after a second add a straw.

Then I carry it back to him.

I’m about to hand it over when I realize that without hands, there’s only one option. I heave a sigh and lift the glass until the straw is right by his lips. “Drink.”

I try to sound snappish and fucking fail because at that moment, Perry wraps his lips around the straw. He’s so close, so suddenly, and his presence overrides every other thought in my head. His face is dusted with stubble, his large eyes are framed by dark lashes, and the thick black hair that flops over his head looks like it would be soft to touch.

Being attracted to the guy who tried to kill me feels like one more fuck you from the universe, so instead, I try to focus on his flaws.

Like the messy eyebrows. His too-big nose. The way he apparently fumbles through life, which is not at all endearing and would get annoying after a while. That he wears a child’s bracelet …

Shit. I can’t make myself hate any of those things.