Page 25 of Scar

Since colors were just one of the things that Tally didn’t grasp as someone who was born blind, she had to rely on someone else to ensure she had the right equipment. Thankfully, that person was her father, who also modified all of her canes from their standard plastic or aluminum.

Tally carefully stood, detangling herself from her blanket. She did not hear anything fall, which meant there was a good possibility that her knife was on the floor next to her feet. She was still dressed from the day before and had on a pair of her chef’s shoes.

Fuck. She did not want to step on one of her knives! She really needed to ask her dad for a pocketknife or some throwing daggers. She should not be using her good knives for defense.

Tally took exaggeratedly high steps, clicking her tongue, and used her cane to get herself away from her couch. She knew the knife wasn’t on her, which meant she just had to avoid the couch area until she could get Simone over here to find the knife for her.

She had to be at her restaurant by seven. They didn’t open until eleven for lunch, but there was still a lot to be done prior to unlocking her doors.

After showering and getting dressed, Tally opened her bathroom cabinet. Feeling in a sullen sort of mood after the previous night, she grabbed for the jar holding the pair of blue eyes. After swapping out with the brown she had in, Tally headed for the kitchen. She forgot to prep her coffee pot the night before so she’d have to use herKeurigthat morning. Despite her profession, Tally was not a big breakfast eater and planned on some toast with a scrambled egg that morning.

Stepping into her living room, she froze. Her hands were still locked in her hair, working on braiding the long, thick tresses. She didn’t have her cane on her, nor was she using echolocation at that exact moment. But she knew.

She was not alone.

* * *

[WiseWave620: Frankie and I are headed to visit Pumpkin today. She goes every day to bring SJ for a visit but the rest of us rotate to make sure he always has company. He’s doing really well and the doctors plan to move him to rehab next week.]

* * *

Scar watchedas Tally slowly finished braiding her hair. He’d nearly come inside her apartment while she was still in the shower. While he’d spied on a lot of people in various compromising positions and locations, he was not a Peeping Tom. He waited for her to step into her bedroom before entering.

In the living room, he noticed the blanket he’d laid over her hours before was lying haphazardly off of the couch. Not wanting her to trip on the edge, he picked it up, folded it, and then laid it over the back of the couch where he’d gotten it from.

While waiting for her to come back out, he tried to determine why he was back inside her apartment. He knew she would sense him, yet he’d come back. Perhaps it was like that old saying about curiosity killing the cat. He was so intrigued by her and her lifestyle that he needed to learn more about her. Taking pictures of her seemed like more of an invasion of her privacy than standing in her living room did.

Heshouldbe taking pictures, sending them to Alpha, and then working on rebuilding his shoulder strength so he could go after Alpha. Coming to Atlanta was supposed to be a quick stop. One to two days of pictures, then gone.

Yet he found himself loath to leave. He wanted to learn more about Tally, to see what she was truly capable of. Perhaps he could even learnfromher, as she had not allowed her disability to limit her potential as Scar had.

He’d been unable to find the thugs that had jumped her the night before. As he was unfamiliar with the underbelly of this city, he’d only looked in the obvious spots for the men. They’d been hurt enough that they might have sought medical attention, but all the free clinics were closed that time of night and none of the hospitals had shown any admissions that matched their descriptions.

It didn’t matter. They could run, but they couldn’t hide. Not from him. Scarwouldfind them.

Tally was braiding her long black hair as she stepped out into the living room. He’d specifically worn different clothing this morning, thinking perhaps something on him from the night before had been how she’d detected him.

Yet she stopped after three steps and turned her head in his general direction. Her prosthetic eyes were blue today. Did she change them for a reason or was it hinting at something more internal, like her mood?

Scar didn’t like the second idea. She was far too amazing a woman to be having a blue day. The thought also made him think of his own eyes.

Both Harper and Sissy had referred to his eyes as bright sapphires or sapphire blue. His black hair and his pale and marred skin gave him a ‘dark and dangerous’ look, but they said his beautiful eyes contradicted his gloom because of how expressive they were.

As a young man, many women had admired his eyes at the bars he and his buddies frequented. All of him had once been beautiful. Now, he was missing too much of himself. Even if he could stand the touch of a woman, no woman would want his black, mangled soul.

“I know you’re there.” She finished braiding her hair, tying it off at the end with an elastic band. “Want to tell me why you’re here?”

Scar remained where he was. He was standing by her living room chair, not wanting to be in her way when she exited her bedroom area.

Her face scowled in that overexaggerated way she had. She put her hands on her hips. “Why the fuck are you in my apartment, asshole?”

Scar watched as she moved towards her kitchen. Her steps were confident, even though she wasn’t using her cane.

“I do not have time for this bullshit. I’m already behind schedule as it is.” She walked around her island and directly to her single-serve coffee maker. She pulled out a travel mug before putting it under the dispenser. Her movements were as confident as her steps. She knew exactly where she was and what she was doing. A stranger watching her would never guess she was born without eyeballs.

It was fascinating to watch.

“Do you have any idea how humiliating it was last night? To know you had been in my apartment but no one believed me—or worse? To have my friends only believe me out of pity? You tell Gordon Tremont that he will never scare me or intimidate me into selling.”

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