Page 46 of Night Justice

He was surprised at the panic that gripped him. That bloody woman mattered, and for the first time, he wished he could do something about who he was, who he had been.

Orla called his name again, but it was the moan of pain that stopped him.

Looking back, he saw her struggling to stand, one hand gripping the sheet threatening to unravel, the other using the side table for leverage.

“You shouldn’t move.”

She looked at him and said his name again. How he loved to hear his name on her lips. What a stupid fool he was. “Listen, Orla…” As he started to speak, she struggled to sit. “Stop moving, or you’ll reopen the stitches.”

“Then stop trying to get away when I’m trying to talk to you. Why was it easier for you to listen to me when you had your mask on? I’ve seen that face before, and it’s the expression of a man who thinks he’s about to be collared.”

He would have laughed under any other circumstances, but the ball of ice in his gut prevented any type of humor. “Well, Miss know-it-all, it’s the expression of a man with his pants down. Figuratively. And you’re looking at me with your baby blues as if you know me when you don’t.”

The way she angled her head was almost comical. “We fucked, yes. And I care about you. That doesn’t mean I want to collar you.”

“You can’t care about a man you know nothing about. That would make you stupid, and you’re not stupid.”

“Thanks for saying that, but I still believe you think I’m stupid, especially when I said I care about you.”

Sam shook his head, about to call her off, but she shushed him. He’d never been shushed before, and he wasn’t sure how to react.

“Samuel Brent Ferguson, born in Newcastle, New South Wales, Australia. An ordinary bloke from down under, a brilliant gemologist and upstanding citizen until you became one of Australia’s most notorious thieves, and that’s not mentioning other places. Not that anyone knows, except yours truly. Did you think I wouldn’t find out? And even worse, did you think I’d care? We all have a past…”

“Fuck that!” At his shout, she stopped talking, and as the silence grew, he had a choice to make, spill that dark part of his soul or shut her down for good.

“Being a thief was the best thing that ever happened to me. Being raised piss-poor by my mother, I found my calling. It opened a lot of doors, allowed me to go to school, and get the hell out. As a thief, I was fucking brilliant, and I believed it- the most incredible, untouchable thief in the world. I’ve stolen, I’ve lied, I’ve killed. I appear civilized, but that’s only because I embraced my darkness and became part of Noctem.”

“You talk about yourself as if you’re the worst human being on the face of the earth. Humans are not black or white. We navigate gray all the time. Sometimes, we don’t have a choice but to dive deep into the darkness. Or maybe life doesn’t give us a choice. I have my own darkness, sorrows, and regrets.”

Right before his eyes, Orla seemed to recoil inside herself. Sam wanted to find the words to comfort her, but waited until she spoke.

“Bagram, Afghanistan. I was covering a story about possible drug traffickers being linked to business people in the US. Wrong turn, wrong house, I don’t know what happened, but two men came through the door, killed my translator and guide, and dragged me inside with the clear intention of raping me. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

It was the way she paused that pulled at him. And before he could stop himself, he took a step in her direction.

“They were laughing as I was fighting them off and I was losing. I don’t know how it happened, but my hand bumped one of their discarded guns. The rest is sketchy, as if my brain had a hiccup, like an old VCR. The film picks up again when I got back to my room and looked at myself in the mirror, and discovered I was covered in blood.”

She looked at her hands as if there were still traces on her skin.

“That’s when the nightmares and panic attacks began. Do I disgust you now that you know? I’m flawed and far from that perfect image you have of me.”

“It was self-defense. I’ve killed for money, don’t compare your sins to mine.”

Her smile dimmed a little. “And yet you protect and defend. Again, there’s more gray in you than you care to admit.”

Sam knew better than to say he couldn’t stop himself, that for the short time he’d known her, she’d flipped his beliefs upside down. Even worse, he’d shown her his true colors and he wanted her to the point where everything else came second, including his work. And that was why he’d gone to her.

The room was silent. Sam realized he’d moved, and stood before her, lost in her gaze. “I told you who I am, that I wouldn’t change, and yet you’re still here.”

“I hurt too much to move.” Her pitiful look swiftly changed to a wicked smile that drew his own.

He smiled and shook his head as she took his hand. Despite a dry mouth, he forced himself to speak. “I came back because I can’t stay away.”

Orla looked sad and tired. “You have such a way with words. As if I’m forcing something on you.” She let his hand go. “I don’t want you to change or feel trapped. I won’t change for you either. Worse, I can’t guarantee you anything. No happily ever after’s, even after we purge the city of Phantom. I just know I want you. Now, today, tomorrow, and next week, and I’m ready to explore a few more weeks, maybe more. With you.”

Sam shook his head in amazement, unable to keep his eyes from her. “That was a good speech.”

When she smiled at him and playfully punched his side, Sam decided Orla was worth every risk in the book. Even his own heart.

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