Page 90 of Eyes in the Shadows

“Does this mean we’re actually cleaning up after you? Not that I’m opposed to some double dipping, especially when it means I get paid and a sharpshooter in my pocket.”

“Is the answer to that question what you want as your favor?” I shoot back.

The answering chuckle this time is a much darker sound. Ominous. “Definitely not. I’m going to save that one for a rainy day, huhamigo?”

Yup. Bad idea. “Talk to you later, Felix.”

“Don’t lose my number.”

As Rossi drives further into suburbia, I have to put more distance between us. So much that I almost miss the driveway he turns down. I drive right past it, but catch sight of the back of the white SUV before the garage door closes fully.

That’s odd. A house in this neighborhood never showed on his financials. I send a pin of the address to the group chat as the lights in the house come on, proving he’s moving through the rooms that lead out from the garage.

Time to head for home. I can’t be away from her any longer. The desperation grows the closer I get. It adds lead to my foot, makes me blow through a few stop signs. I barely get the key out of the ignition before I’m up the front steps and inside.

“Eleanor!” I bellow, slamming the front door behind me.

But it’s Dimitri’s face I see coming around the corner. He’s sliding leather gloves onto his hands and has a roll of trash bags tucked under his arm. He takes one look at me and moves between me and the stairwell. “Stop, James. You cannot go to her like this.”

I’m seconds from hitting him with the fist my hand just formed when he stepped in front of me. I’m not even thinking rationally about why Dimitri would try to come between us, I only know that nothing is going to keep me from her a second longer.

“The fuck I can’t.”

“My brother, stop! Listen to me. You will scare her. She is already frightened, fragile. And you are wearing the blood of several other men.”

As he approaches and lays a hand on my shoulder, I inhale and follow his gaze down to my shaking fist. With a jerking motion, I open my palm. Was I really going to hit him?

His voice is uncharacteristically understanding. “Wash your face. Calm your eyes. She needs you, but not like this.”

I grumble a little at that—suddenly he’s some sort of expert on what she needs?—but go to do as he recommends. When I look in the mirror, I understand. My face is splattered and there’s a dried patch at the corner of my mouth from some kind of internal bleeding. My knuckles are bruised and the skin is broken and colored with more than just my own blood. My jacket is torn at both shoulders and my light-colored shirt is ripped and stained. My eyes are wide, wild, angry.

I remove my jacket and splash water on my face, using the hand towel to scrub anything remaining.

When I emerge, Dimitri is gone. Judging from his outfit, he was taking care of some of his own dead bodies. I immediately connect the dots. The large pool of blood at the restaurant…

Well, luckily there’s a cleaning crew on it.

I climb the stairs two at a time until I’m on the third floor. The door is closed, but light is spilling out from underneath. She likes to sit in the middle of the bed, but she’s not there this time. I hear the shower running.

It doesn’t even occur to me to knock, and it makes me feel like a chump when she startles at the sound of the door opening. She’s sitting on the floor of the shower, naked, and the water is falling on her back like rain. The steam is thick, so I know she’s been in there a while.

“Mac? I… I think there’s something wrong with me.”

Oh, Hell.

I don’t bother with my clothes—I step into the shower.

33

Eleanor

This is what gets the tears?

“Is it—are you hurt?” he asks in an urgent tone.

“No. I couldn’t… I can’t cry. Aren’t—don’t people cry when they’re scared? Or when they see…” I shiver, remembering the pale skin and sightless eyes of those two men. And the knives… covered in so much blood…

I didn’t expect him to come into the shower. And I could barely see him through the glass doors with the steam and running water, so I didn’t expect him to look so beat up. But he doesn’t give me a chance to get a good look at the bruises or blood stains. He sits on the floor next to me, pulls me into his lap, tucks my head under his chin, and drapes my legs over his.

---