Page 26 of Consumed By the Mafia

Abigail reared back even as Ryoma angled past her to start down the hall. She opened her mouth to say something in response and her gaze dropped again to his hands. His fists were looser, though still arguably clenched, and she was sure now she saw blood on his fingers. “Ryoma, your hands—what did you do?” He hadn’t been bleeding before. She was sure ofit.

He made a scoffing sound without breaking stride. “That’s the question, all right.”

Whathadhe done?

He’d never had such a hard time minding his place, for one thing. Not since he’d been a lower-level man in a very different group, at least. And he knew full well how things went when he lost his temper in those situations. Trying to assert himself, trying to step up in defense of a woman who may or may not have earned what was happening, only meant pain, spilled blood, and death. The latter hadn’t yet come for him.

The fact that he’d had to gouge his own palms to keep from interfering when the boss had gotten in Abby’s face was a problem. Almost as much of a problem as being expected to stand by as her protector moving forward.

That was why it was a punishment.

It was almost funny how just that morning he would have grinned like an idiot at the notion of being assigned to stick close to her and keep her safe. It would have seemed like the easiest job he’d been handed in a damn long time.

Ryoma shouldered open the bathroom door and flipped on the tap to let the water warm. The house had some basic supplies, at least, so he could clean up themess he’d made of his hands. They both needed a change of clothes, although at least hers were clean.

Feminine hands latched onto his outer wrist and a soft curse reached his ears as he realized he hadn’t bothered kicking the door shut behind him. She rolled his hand over and her grip tightened. “Shit, Ryoma, why did you do this to yourself?”

He ground his teeth. “You wouldn’t understand.” He pulled his arm from her grip and plunged both hands beneath the steaming water. It stung, but not badly enough to make him retreat.

Abby sighed. “I get that you’re mad, and I deserve that. I do. But you don’t have to be an ass all of a sudden. You don’t even know what I would understand.”

When the blood was mostly rinsed off, he used his wrist to pump a healthy amount of soap into his other palm and began lathering a little too roughly. That also stung, more than the water, and the suds quickly turned red. He kept going. “Yeah? I wonder whose fault that is.”

“Fine. You know what, yes, I lied.Newsflash, boyfriend, you weren’t exactly forthcoming with your job, either. So go ahead and play the hurt feelings card. Go ahead and give me the cold shoulder. Go ahead and self-mutilate, even, if that’s your thing. I’m not a therapist, I can’t fix that. But don’t dump all the blame on me like you were Mr. Angel.” She twisted and stomped from the room.

His lips curled and he shoved his hands back under the running water. He rinsed quickly, patted dry on the waiting towel, and pulled the entire box of bandages from the overhead cabinet before striding after her.

Abby was back in the sitting room, sitting on the sofa he had previously occupied.

Ryoma dropped the box in her lap and then sat at her side, inside her personal space. She made a sound of protest that he pointedly ignored. He held out his hands, palms up, so she could see the marks he’d made and where the blood still bubbled up. Instead of articulating the request, he said, “First, it’s hard to call something a lie when only one party was in the blind. So, yeah, I didn’t tell you what I do for a livin’. Doesn’t mean you didn’t know.”

She frowned at him, already thumbing open the box of bandages.

“Second, I didn’t say what I do, but I sure as hell didn’t tell you a lie to cover it, either. I gave you my name—not some fake identity I was usin’ to worm my way into someone else’s good graces.” He watched as she dropped her gaze, her frown tightening. “And third, I didn’t hunt you down with the intention of ruining your life.”

She dragged the edge of her nail across his palm as she smoothed out the sticky ends of the bandage. “Can you honestly say you never have, though?”

Ryoma waited for her to apply the second, on his other palm, then reached out and lifted her chin again. “When I hunt someone down, I’m straightforward. They know why I’m comin’ and how it’ll end when I catch them.”

“So you ruin lives, but it’s okay because you’re honest about it?”

He gave her a feral grin that was in no way warm and friendly. “Baby girl, nothing about what I do isokay. But someonehas to get their hands dirty in this life, and it turns out I have the stomach for it.”

Her nostrils flared and she swallowed visibly. Her hands retreated to her lap. “And how … is this going to end? For me?”

For her.The question—and the clarification—cut through him. He released her chin and pulled the box of bandages from the nest of her arms. “The boss keeps his word. Do what you say you will, don’t fuck the family over in the process, and he’ll let you walk without constraints.” He stood again and went to return the box to the bathroom.

He really was a fool. She’d been using him from the start. All she wanted now was a path to survival, preferably with her career intact. Whatever potential he’d thought they had had been as much a lie as everything else.

Instead of returning to the sitting room and the beautiful siren within, Ryoma wandered into the kitchen. He’d heard Cris promise to bring food when he came back later, and in truth Ryoma had no real appetite, but it was a change of scenery. However small. The kitchen wasn’t the most expensive, the most elaborate, but it was nice enough to support whoever might need to stay in the house short-term.

Ryoma moved up to the window over the sink and looked out. They weren’t really in hiding, and the boss had left guards around the front and back exits to make sure Abby didn’t try bailing, so he wasn’t worried about someone spotting him through the small opening. He was just hoping to see something that might occupy his mind for a few minutes.

He stood there, watching the trees at the edge of the yard dance in the faint summer breeze, until the soft shuffle ofAbby’s sock-covered footfalls drew his attention. He could feel her behind him like she commanded his every sense, but he didn’t move.

Her voice was softer than he’d been braced for, a blend of shame and sadness that felt like another punch to the gut. “I know you won’t believe me, but I never set out to hurt you. I never even set out to seduce you. I just … I had hoped we could talk, strike up a kinship somehow, and I could get you to open up that way. My intention had been to offer you some sort of immunity or reduced sentence and protection in exchange for your testimony.” She paused and he heard her draw a wet breath. “I realize that doesn’t matter now. It doesn’t make you feel better. But I … wanted you to know. For whatever it might be worth.”

Ryoma exhaled as her steps retreated.

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