Page 33 of Bleeding Blackheart

I’m rewarded with an eye roll, and she puts her elbows on the table while she leans on her hands. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I know it’s your kink to make me suffer.”

“You don’t want to hear about my kinks, Montana.”

Her little mouth pops open right when our server comes up to us. I order a Blue Moon, and Montana does the same.

I start my interrogation with light and easy questions, wanting to keep her calm. “How much money will you need to be set?” I agreed to let Montana keep some of herfunds to give her a head start on wherever she wants to hide. Deep down, I think her chances would be better if she stuck with me, but I’m keeping that to myself, not wanting her to get any ideas.

She huffs and rubs her palms together. “A few thousand. Just so I can get to a new town and get a place. Hopefully I can get a job quickly.”

I don’t like the sound of that at all. Her plan is to just run off to some random town? She’s asking to get murdered.

Our beers come quickly, and I let her get hers halfway down before digging deeper. “You got any family? Where’s your mom?”

She gives me half-smile and takes another sip of her drink. “No family. Mom’s dead. Thanks to Dad.”

Right. She did tell me that. Her father is scum. Just like mine. I don’t want to talk about mine, but I feel like I have to. Montana doesn’t put out unless she’s getting something in return. I take a few sips of my beer and look into her glowing eyes. “You know that my father killed my mother too. You can talk about it if you want.”

Her lips turn down at the corners, and she finishes her glass. “You can talk about Margaret if you want.”

Every time she says her name it feels like I’m getting stabbed in my chest. “Why the hell do you want to knowabout her so damn badly, Montana? Do you like seeing me upset?”

Her eyes soften, and she licks a drop of beer from her lips. “I just want to know what happened to make you turn to stone.” As sharp as her words are, her gaze is nothing but empathetic. I don’t need empathy. If I did, I’d go pay a fucking shrink.

I wave at our waiter, getting two more beers ordered then turn back to my little detective. “I’ve always been this way. Stone cold. Whatever you’re trying to pull out of me isn’t in there.”

She scoots her chair back, visibly distancing herself from me. “Well, if you have no heart, then there’s no point in telling you about how my dad killed my mother. Since you wouldn’t care and all that.”

“Margaret was killed twelve years ago. I met her through Dallas. She was his sister.”

Montana stares at me like I have two heads, and I feel naked. I don’t know why I shared that with her. But to get trust, you have to give it. And the fact that she wants to hear about Margaret shocks me. I’ve only been on one date since she died, and the woman I took out turned her nose up the second I brought up my ex. But Montana’s interest makes me feel safe. Like I can talk about Margaret without being judged for it. I can talk about her with Dallas, butthat’s different. I’ve never shared things about her with another woman.

Montana shows me her pretty smile and pulls her chair closer again. “My mother’s name was Tara. She and my father met at church. He killed her when I was four years old. On their wedding anniversary.” Her smile drops, but she doesn’t look away from me.

I keep my eyes on hers as if they’re anchors keeping me secured. “Margaret and I were together for three years. She got Violet six months after we got together. She moved out of her parents’ house nearly three years after we started dating. I was getting ready to move in with her shortly before she died.” I wanted to buy a house for Margaret, but she inherited hers from her grandmother and insisted on us living there.

Montana rubs her arms nervously. “My father killed my mother because she was having an affair with an old boyfriend of hers. She’d found out my father was having sex with prostitutes, and she wanted to divorce him. He wouldn’t let her.”

I pull one of her hands in mine. “My father killed Margaret because I told him he was dead to me. He was a piece of shit my whole life, and I stood up to him one day. He retaliated by taking the one person that meant the most to me, and that’s why he killed her.”

She sniffles, and I squeeze her fingers. “Don’t cry about it. I hate when people feel sorry for me.”

She wipes her face and bites her tongue, trying to stave off her tears. “It hurts me to know that you went through that.”

I pull my hand away from hers, feeling my own tears threatening to flow. “I know. I appreciate it. Thank you.”

Time stops between us while she accepts my gratitude. It’s the first time I’ve thanked her for anything.

Our waiter returns with our second rounds, and we sip our drinks slowly together. Montana smiles at me again, making my neck heat. She’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, and thinking so makes me feel so fucking guilty. I feel like I’m cheating on Margaret for finding another woman attractive. For wanting to kiss a woman who isn’t her.

Her plump lips wrap around the neck of her bottle as she opts not to pour it in her glass, and then she pulls it away, relaxing into her chair. “What was your favorite thing about her?”

My guilt only increases while I look at my new addiction. “She was the most altruistic person I’d ever known. Selfless in every sense of the word. If someone had a need, Margaret would meet it.”

Montana’s smile only widens while she takes in my words, and I feel the ice around my black heart start tomelt. I take a sip of my second beer while my buzz starts to kick in. “What was your favorite thing about your mother?”

Her lip wobbles and she blinks a few times. “Her hugs. My mother gave the best hugs. I don’t remember ever getting a hug from my dad.”

I grip my bottle tighter than I should then loosen my hold, not wanting to break it and get glass everywhere. “Where did your father keep you? Where were you running from when I found you?”

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