Page 22 of Silk and Steel

“You still owe me one. Peace out.”

The phone beeps as the call ends. I look to Cole for an explanation.

“That was my Ranger buddy, Axel. He’s done even more disposal jobs than me. But this package is clean. I don’t detect anything dangerous, including the package itself.”

“What’s inside of it?”

“Exactly what it looks like. It’s the right size for a garment box, because it’s got a garment inside of it.”

He lifts the thin box lid and withdraws a blue denim dress. The sight of it twists my gut into knots. I know that damn dress all too well.

“I take it from your reaction you recognize this?”

“You could say that.”

A quick pivot and three steps later, I’m out in the hall, covering my face with my hands. I don’t know if I want to scream, cry, or put my fist through the wall.

Cole walked up behind me. I can tell even though his footsteps didn’t make a sound. I let his calmness wash over me like soothing waves. It doesn’t eliminate the fear, but at least I can think.

“I thought when he went to prison that would be the end of it.”

“I’m sorry it wasn’t. You shouldn’t have to go through this, Emory. It really isn’t your fault.”

“Isn’t it, though?”

I turn around to find his square-jawed, bearded visage holds a look of compassion. Not one trace of pity, though. I take that as a compliment.

“What do you mean?”

I get lost in his eyes for a moment. There’s pain in his gaze, old and new. I fear what might happen if I stare too long, so I break the spell.

“I trusted the wrong person. I made an error in judgment, and it’s haunting me.”

“Yes.” Cole’s eyes get a faraway look in them. Then he shakes his head as if to clear it of the melancholy.

“I know men who made an error in judgment and it cost them life and limb. It never meant I thought they deserved it. Life is a series of random tragedies and narrow escapes. So far, you keep escaping your Ex. No reason to think that won’t continue to be the case.”

I look past him at the dress laying crumpled on the bedspread.

“Well, whether I deserve it or not, it looks like Julian sent me a message.”

He turns and strides into my bedroom. It’s strange to have him here. Not because I feel like he doesn’t belong.

Because I feel like he kind of does.

I pick up the dress, my nose wrinkling as disgust roils my gut.

“I hate this dress. Not just because Denim is so last century, either.”

I wait, but Cole doesn’t laugh or even respond. I guess he didn’t get it, or maybe he doesn’t have much of a sense of humor. One man army, not one man conversationalist. Right.

“I mostly hate it because Julian liked it so much. I don’t know why. It’s not especially flattering or revealing. It’s just kind of blah.”

“Maybe that’s why he liked it.” Cole gets a little line between his eyebrows when he’s thinking. It’s kind of cute, breaks up his unstoppable juggernaut image.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, men like Lovejoy hate it when anyone else has the spotlight. They think they should be the center of attention all the time, so maybe he liked you in a boring, simple dress so you wouldn’t stand out so much.”

---