Page 45 of Bleeding Outside the Lines

Cassius lets out a long breath, and when I look up at him, I’m taken aback by the expression I see there. A small smile is spread across his face, but there’s no hunger in it like I expect to see. Instead, his smile is warm and peaceful. It heats my insides like a crackling fire on a snowy winter night. Comfortable and safe.

Fires though, can’t always be contained and as my heart beats for Cassius, it pours gasoline on the flames that lick at my thoughts. It engulfs my soul, smothering any chance of self-preservation. My life no longer exists without Cassius. I will destroy anyone who threatens him. I will burn this world to the ground until it is nothing but ash and Ember.

Everything is so confusing, and it’s all blending together, tangling in knots that I can’t untie. Worry for Rowan, the truth about my feelings for Cassius, suddenly it all feels like too much. My heart beats faster, erratic, like it might pound right out of my chest. My breath quickens, and I gasp, my lungs desperate for air. Blinking back tears, I swallow, trying to swallow down the feelings, to push them down to where they used to live.

Strong protective arms surround me, pulling me close.

Cassius puts a finger under my chin, lifting my face to look at him, and then crushes his lips to mine. His kiss silences the noise and douses the flame. I never want to move. I want to live right here, forever in his arms. Safe in the quiet, getting lost in his kiss.

When he finally pulls away, he does it slowly, like it’s painful to separate himself from me. His eyes narrow at me in concern before he pulls me tighter to him, the side of my face snug against his bare chest. His lips press tenderly into my hair.

“I got you Ember,” he whispers, his voice barely a breath. “I got you.”

Ember.

thirty-one

“This is fucked,” Garrettgrits his teeth and stands, his hands raised out in front of him. “I can’t do this, man.”

Photos of Hannah are scattered on the computer screen. Ruby takes the vacant seat Garrett left at my desk and enlarges each crime scene photo one by one. Unlike Garrett, I can’t bring myself to look away. Each photo is worse than the one before it. Numbered tags mark blood splatters and pieces of clothing. A shoe print, a knife, a woman’s flip-flop, a young woman’s lifeless body. There’s a photo of her bottom half, in it her legs are bent at odd angles, the joints rigid. She sits in a dark red pool, her skirt pushed up on her hips. In the last photo, her empty eyes stare back at us, daring us to look away. Her arms are stretched above her head, her wrists secured with a strip of fabric to the post behind her. A split gold chain dangles between angry red lines painted on her neck and chest.

“They used her underwear,” I tell Ruby, pointing to Hannah’s wrists. “And that chain, it had a charm on it. A heart made of cubic zirconia, G got for her. I don’t know why the suits wouldhave taken it, maybe they thought it would throw suspicion?” Ruby nods, continuing her study of the photos. Across the room, Garrett gets sick in the trash can.

I’m not sure what she expects to find in the photos that will help us, but she studies them, committing them to memory. Each blood drop, every scratch, all the purple bruises. I’m grateful when she finally closes all the photos and reopens the folder Rowan sent.

I motion to Garrett and watch as he rolls the defeat off his back before joining me behind Ruby.

“Hannah is dead. Those pictures have not been doctored.” Ruby is tactless. I wince and then look over at Garrett, who may or may not get sick again. Before he does, she continues, “Which means that Rowan is correct, and the woman you saw was not Hannah.”

Ruby opens the only other file in the folder. A photo of an adult Hannah fills the screen.

“Fuck,” Garrett says at the same time I ask, “How?”

“This is Rawlings.”

“I think I’m gonna be sick again,” Garrett mumbles, reaching for the trash can.

“Who the fuck is Rawlings?” I demand.

“Sophie,” Ruby answers in her monotone voice as she opens the next file.

“So, where the fuck is she and why are we not moving?” I open the desk drawer and retrieve my Smith and Wesson. Removing the magazine, I confirm that it’s loaded and slip it back into place. The familiar sound like music to my ears. I look at Garrett, who hasn’t moved, but instead just stares at the computer screen, his eyes darting back and forth taking in what he sees there.

Ruby looks up at me, her lips pulled in a straight line, her jaw set.

“Cassius, I know that the whole barge in and take care of business tactic is your style, but that’s not how to handle this. We’re talking about the Reds. We need to know what we’re getting into before,” she gestures at the gun in my hand, “we go in guns blazing.”

“I will not be the pawn in this bitch’s twisted game. She dies.”

Ruby stands and places her hand on my cheek. “Cassius Cross has never been a pawn in anyone’s game, and if she doesn’t see that, perhaps she should be playing a different one.”

“She dies,” I repeat.

Her lips turn up, a devious smirk plays on her face. “She dies slowly.”

Ruby’s eyes grow dark, lustful. I pull her to me, pressing my lips with force against hers. Her nails rake the back of my neck, and I can feel her body writhe against mine.

This woman may no longer want to kill me, but she will be the end of me.

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