Page 67 of Devious Gambit

Damn, I was hoping she’d forget. The last thing I needed was her mom sticking her nose in and spoiling my plans. I took great pleasure in perving at Rhys as she covered up that slim, pale body and damn fine ass with a blanket, and disappeared into the bathroom to ring her mom.

I waited until she started talking, before I got up and stepped closer to the bathroom door to listen in. Rhys’ voice sounded strained and stressed and an argument quickly broke out between them.

“How long has he been writing to me?” I heard her ask. “That long? He must think I hate him.”

I grasped only fragments of the conversation, but got the gist of the history of this little drama. “It’s not Patty’s fault you held back important information…I’m going Thursday and seeing him Friday. A friend’s driving me.”

Feeling relieved she referred to me as a ‘friend’, because earlier she was hinting for something more when she told me that people assumed we were an item. Well, they can assume we broke up when they stopped seeing us together. In addition, she can tell everyone she lost her virginity to an asshole, conniving Hawk.

“Yes, I want to see him. I need to know what contribution his genes have made to me. Is he the reason why I’m so strange. Yes, I am strange. I’m too shy and I’m terrible at small talk.” I cracked up laughing.

“I already know what he did. I know he killed three men, a heist gone wrong, the papers said. Yes, it upsets me, but I want to hear his version of events.”

There were several beats of silence where I thought the conversation might end. I was about to creep back to bed, when…

“No, I’m not going to the Fishers for Christmas. Alone probably. I don’t care. Kilbernie Hall are putting Christmas dinner on. I have to work the following day, so there’s’ no point in me going all the way home to Detroit. I’m fine. Just a friend. A guy. No, he’s just a friend. Nothing serious. He reads me poetry sometimes.” Her voice turned sweet when she mentioned the poetry reading.

Fuck. She was becoming putty in my hands and I could mold her into whatever I wanted. Unfortunately, this particular putty was laced with feelings. She was falling for me and there was not a damn thing I could do to stop that hurricane, until Friday.

Eight more fucking days to go. I’ll be glad when it’s over.

“There is no greater sorrow than to recall a happy time when miserable,” I thought aloud as I crawled back into bed and checked my phone to find a message from Cody.

Cody: Where r u?

Me: Bookhugger

Cody: Did u hear about Greene?

Me: No.

Cody: Dead.

Me: Fuck.

He looked lively when I last saw him, so it seemed strange that he died just like that.

Cody: Suspicious circumstances.

Me: How? Bad drugs?

Rhys clicked off with her mom and came back to bed.

Cody: Details to be revealed.

“Greene’s dead,” I told Rhys as I searched online for any newly released articles on the subject. “They reckon under suspicious circumstances.”

She was extremely still and quiet, so I glanced at her to see if she heard me. She seemed distant, as if mulling something over in her mind, yet her facial expression held fear. When I nudged her to break her out of the weird little spell, she snapped back to the present and shot me a small smile.

“So, what did your mom say?”

“Be careful and don’t get my hopes up, because he’ll likely quash them.”

“She didn’t talk you out of going?”

“No.”

“Thursday it is then,” I announced. “You’ll love the place I booked for us.”

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