Page 101 of Torched Spades
The banging intensifies, and I sigh. The last thing I want to do is fight with my father right now. I’m too hollow and numb, but after fifteen minutes of ignoring him, it’s obvious he’s not going to let this go tonight.
Stumbling my way toward the front door, I clench my fist and slam it against the thick wood. “Go away, Dad. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Becca, open the door.”
My entire body stiffens.That voice.That smooth, commanding tone both flutters my stomach and sends a chill down my spine.
Johnny.
After everything that’s happened, he doesn’t deserve my submission, but something squeezes inside my chest, stealing air and common sense. The man at the root of all nightmares is on the other side of that door, and, still, I open it.
Sometimes, the only thing that can save someone from the demons of their mind is the demon of their dreams.
The moment I see him, I’m already lost. Each hand is gripping the doorframe, and in the center stands the man who has twisted my world inside out and ripped it to shreds. As usual, he’s dressed in denim and darkness, that leather jacket he wears hanging around him like a shroud. But it’s his eyes that draw me in like the wingless butterfly I am. Black as midnight, yet heavy with something that if I didn’t know any better would look a lot like regret.
My own personal bullets and blades.
“Are you all right?”
My smile is as empty as I feel. “Why do you ask, Johnny? Did the boarded-up window out back give it away, or was it because your camera feed suddenly went dark?”
His expression hardens. “I’m asking because I care—”
“Don’t you dare say you care about me,” I hiss.
His response is to invite himself inside, the curve of his lips keeping mine silent as he closes the door behind him. “Believe what you want, but I needed to see for myself that you were okay.”
“And I need to know what the fuck’s going on, Johnny,” I demand, but as furious as I am, even I can hear the lack of power behind it. “In a span of a couple of weeks, I’ve been assaulted and had my home invaded. What kind of sick game are you playing?”
“I’m not playing a game.”
If only that were true.“You told me your outlet now was to set me on fire and watch me burn. I assumed you meant that figuratively, but now I can’t help but wonder if you were telling me a truth I didn’t want to hear.”
There’s a long, painful pause, then he closes the distance between us and takes my face in his hands. “I’d never hurt you, Becca.”
Lies. More lies.
I step away, unable to separate the man from the monster anymore. “You already have…” With a strangled cry, I throw the playing card I’ve been holding at his feet. He watches it fall, his expression like chipped stone. “What’s next, Johnny? Am I going to wake up surrounded by flames? Are you going to watch me burn, or is your hero complex going to kick in a little too late?”
“I didn’t break into your house, Becca,” he says, a sharp edge to his voice.
“Right. I suppose all burglars scatter the ace of spades all over the floor before leaving the scene.” I gesture to the floor where the card is lying face up next to his foot. “You wanted to make a statement? Well, message received.”
“And what message is it you think I’ve left for you?” he asks, each forward step drawing me backward until I hit the wall.
“The ultimate fuck you.”
“Never.” As if to solidify the empty promise, he glides his palm up my neck and cups my jaw. “Becca, you know me better than that.”
“Do I? Because the man I thought I knew wouldn’t hide cameras in my fucking house, Johnny!” At his grim expression, I point to the smoke alarm hanging by a wire and a prayer above our heads. “Six cameras hidden in six smoke alarms. Are you going to stand here and tell me it wasn’t you?”
“No,” he says flatly, his gaze sliding from the ceiling to my face. “I won’t lie to you—”
“You won’t lie to me?” I let out a hostile laugh. “That’s all you’ve done since the day we met!”
“Would you let me fucking finish?” Tensing, he pulls back, his eyes burning into mine. “Yes, I broke into your house, but that was only after finding out your father was the chief of police.”
“Because that makes it better.”
