Page 18 of Peace Under Fire

“A ceiling,” he corrected her.

“What?” The catch left her voice.

“The concrete. It was from a ceiling.” He knew what happened to him. He needed to know what happened to Lucky. “You said Lucky was alive in your dream. Did you see what they did to him? Where they took him?”

“You believe me then?”

He couldn’t quite read her voice. It was neutral. Not suspicious, not relieved. Just…flat.

A flash struck his eyes.

He froze. Son of a bitch. One of the first signs of an approaching migraine were flashes of light. He didn’t have time for this.

What had she asked? Oh, yeah…

“You were right about everything,” he said, hearing the sudden exhaustion in his voice. “That kind of accuracy is hard to refute.” Although that logical part of his brain still wanted to give it a damn good try. “Lucky disappeared. We need to find him. Anything you can tell me about the men who took him, or where he was taken, would be appreciated.” When she didn’t respond, he tried for a coaxing tone, and failed miserably. “I’m asking for your help—one friend to another.”

“Friend?” Her voice was quiet, almost sad. “We were never friends. You made that clear the last time we spoke. What was it you said? Not now. Not in the future. Not ever.”

Squish flinched. He’d expected to hear hurt in her recital, but it was matter of fact instead. Accepting.

Somehow, that stung even worse.

He’d regretted his harshness the instant the words had left his mouth, regretted the complete severing of any possible relationship between them. Which was crazy. Wasn’t the severing of ties, of possibilities, what he’d been aiming for? Remove the constant temptation. Remove the hunger. Remove any chance that he might give in to the intense craving and shatter her innocent life.

So, he’d slammed the door shut on them and made sure she’d never approach him—hell—tempt him again. But dammit, he hadn’t needed to hit her so hard, to humiliate her like that.

Her reaction still haunted him, the way she’d shrunk into herself, the way the glow had died in her eyes. He’d never wanted to hurt her. That had been the whole point of driving her away.

“I don’t blame you for not being interested in me,” she said unexpectedly. “I should have known better than to track you down. My sisters warned me, but I didn’t listen.”

Something in her unexpected confession niggled at him, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“It’s not that I wasn’t interested. It was—” He broke off to take a couple of pulls on the cup of Coke. He set the bag of ribs down on the table and got up, heading into the kitchen for the Excedrin. “The last thing a girl like you needs in your life is a guy like me.”

“Sure.” Her voice was bone-dry.

She probably thought he was giving her the whole it’s-not-you-its-me routine. He scowled as he popped the cap on the Excedrin bottle and downed two tablets. At this rate, he was going to become addicted to the damn things.

This whole conversation was redundant. He needed to get them back on track. Lucky and the traitor were the important items of discussion, not their nonexistent love affair.

So, of course, he honed in on their nonexistent love affair.

“I’m not blowing rose-colored smoke up your ass. You deserve someone better than me for your first time. Someone who will take care of you the way you deserve.”

Someone who doesn’t have blood on his hands.

He flinched at the thought of this paragon of virtue who’d treasure her virginity. Fuck that bastard and the white horse he rode in on.

He might recognize the fact she needed a guy like that, but he sure as hell didn’t like it.

Stunned surprise greeted that heartfelt, albeit awkward, announcement.

“First time?” The reply started as a squawk and then she burst into laughter. “You don’t seriously think I’m a virgin, do you? Why in the world would you think that?”

“Uh...” He drew back to stare at his phone in stunned surprise. “Because you look like one, you act like one, you never swear…”

“Seriously?” She choked on a rash of giggles. “Not swearing is a sign of virginity? What do you think a virgin looks like, anyway? Or acts like? I’m twenty-eight years old, for heaven’s sake. Do you seriously think a woman is going to make it into her late twenties with her virginity intact?”

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