Page 21 of Faded Gray Lines
The dried blood flaked between the pads of my thumb and forefinger as I rubbed them together again. Funny how a past, long dead and buried had felt so alive when it trickled a warm path down my palm.
Shifting a glance, I set my sights toward the hallway where she’d disappeared moments earlier. “Ghost hunting.”
Seven
Leighton
“Calm down,Leighton. There’s no way that could be him.” Gripping the edges of the porcelain sink with my good hand, I leaned over it, dropped my chin to my chest, and tried to control my erratic breathing.
Clenching the sink harder, I squeezed my eyes shut. No, this was some kind of cruel coincidence. One person couldn’t gamble twice in her life and end up with the same hand. The odds were impossible. The universe didn’t work that way.
I’d put that part of my life behind me. When the memories escaped their confinement, I’d let them hurt, only to remind myself to never allow it to happen again. Until today, I’d never lost my way. Even through the hell of the last twenty-four hours, I’d kept it together under the most extreme of circumstances.
I’d shot and killed a man and kept myself from falling apart. I’d been threatened by government agents with a life behind bars, and I’d stood my ground. I’d learned the man I’d thought was the most honest, upstanding person to ever walk the earth was a criminal. I’d eavesdropped on a high-ranking cartel member, got caught, and lied my way out of it without breaking a sweat.
But nothing could’ve prevented me from coming unraveled the moment I saw him. Four years wasn’t a lot of time in the grand scheme of things, but in a young girl’s memory, it may as well have been twenty.
He’d changed. The shiny, coal black hair that had once grazed his chin, now hung to his shoulders in unruly waves. The sparse dusting of facial hair I used to love to touch now looked thicker, covering his chin and upper lip as if hiding a dangerous secret. He was more muscular, obviously putting hours of effort into building strength and power. I’d felt it in his touch—no longer gentle as much as demanding.
But it was his eyes that held me captive. The same ones that snuck into my dreams in the middle of the night and robbed me of peace. They were smoky, like a freshly-extinguished campfire and just as suffocating. However, unlike the ones from my dreams, the ones today never warmed with a smoldering ember underneath the char.
Today’s version was so cold, I could’ve seen my own breath.
My dad used to tell me that a person’s eyes were the window to their soul.
“A man can change everything about himself, Lil’ Bit, but his eyes will always tell you the truth. They’re the one thing he can’t control or alter. Look long enough into a man’s eyes and you’ll know his real intentions.”
My father was rarely wrong. Also, if that was the case, then Mateo Cortes’s real intentions were worse than anything Luis Delgado or Alex Atwood could ever do, and all the stars in the sky couldn’t save me.
“No,” I repeated, shaking my head harder as my fingers went numb. “I’m just paranoid. That was a long time ago, and it’s not him. It’s definitely not—”
The rest of my affirmation was cut off by a rattle on the bathroom door.
“Just a minute,” I called out, releasing my hold on the sink and shaking the feeling back into my hands. Turning on the faucet, I’d just cupped my hands to clean the blood from my cut when the locked doorknob rattled again. Irritated, I tilted my chin over my shoulder. “I said I’d be out in a minute. Jesus, impatient much?”
My answer was a series of random clicks then one pop. I froze as the knob turned and the door swung open. I should’ve been shocked. I should’ve been offended, pissed, outraged, and whatever other highly emotional adjective applied for such an invasion of privacy. Instead, I felt faint, my peripheral vision darkening until nothing remained but him.
The wicked curve of his lips stole my breath as he closed and locked the door behind him. Stepping backward, he reclined into it with one foot braced against the wood. Moody eyes stared me up and down.
“Hello, Star.”
Even to my own ears, my gasp sounded pathetic. “Do I know you?”
He raised one dark eyebrow. “Once? Yes. Now? No, not at all.”
When I inhaled to show my annoyance, I caught the scent of caramelized leather and almost crumbled. Gripping the sink again, I forced myself to face him with all the conviction I could muster. “I’m sorry, I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else. Besides, I’m sure the owner wouldn’t appreciate his patrons breaking into the ladies’ room.”
He chuckled at my challenge. “Oh, I know exactly who you are, and you know who I am so, cut the shit. And just so you know, I don’t take orders from the owner.”
“Well, don’t we have a high opinion of ourselves.”
“I’ve earned the right.”
Maybe I hadn’t changed as much as he had, but I wasn’t stupid. From his cheap shots and short answers, I knew exactly what he wanted. Even through this new exterior, I could still read him, and the message was loud and clear. He wanted a reaction. Perhaps one that gave him justification for leaving me when I needed him the most. Well, tough shit. He wouldn’t get one. I missed the boy, but I’d be damned if I’d let the man provoke me into opening old wounds.
“Well, I’ll just leave you and your ego to whatever pressing business it is you both have in the ladies’ room and get back to work.” I pushed away from the sink until we stood so close, the top of my head slid right under his chin. “If you’ll excuse me.”
He didn’t touch me. Instead, he took a step forward. Then another one. Then another one. Startled, I moved with him, backing up to counteract his advances.
