“If this is about the tattoo, I’m not going to make you—” “It’s not about the tattoo,” I all but yell. “It’s you. It’s always fucking you.” To my surprise, my hand makes contact with the man’s chest, shoving him back a step. His eyes darken, body tensing. “Colt,” he says in warning. “I want to know why you’re stuck in my head. In my life,” I growl, shoving the man again. “I want—”
