Page 48 of Torched Spades
And the closest allies are the first to turn their backs.
My father didn’t save me from the dragon. He locked me in the castle and convinced me it didn’t exist… That the fire-breathing monster outside my window was an illusion—a monster of my own creation.
A surrogate outlet.
As expected, the paternal premise drops, and the heartless cop rolls in like a slow-moving freight train. “Becca, I’m warning you…”
“Oh, I get a warning? How gracious of you.” I return to flipping the card between my fingers. It’s not until the third rotation that my eye catches the familiar black shape and triangular letter in the corner. The laugh that bubbles up drips with irony.
My father stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “What’s so funny?”
“I’ve had the ace of spades in my hand this whole time,” I say, holding the card up for his inspection.
“So?”
“One of my patients has a fascination with it.” Drawing the card back, I give it a shake before tapping the spade with my fingernail. “Did you know American troops used to leave these on their kills as a calling card? Almost like a middle finger to the enemy.” My mind drifts back to the satisfied smirk on Johnny’s face as he described it to me. “The ultimate fuck you.”
I think of the crumpled card still sitting in the console of my car. The one he left me with at the warehouse. The one I’ve lost two nights of sleep over trying to decode.
Was it a middle finger for daring to challenge him?
Or a warning I’d pushed a dangerous man too far?
“Becca…”
Sliding off the barstool, I bend the card, then flick it at his chest. It hits right at the base of the two open buttons at his collar and sticks. For the first time in two days, a genuine smile spreads across my face. “I see the appeal.”
In a blur, my father crushes the card in his hand, throws it on the floor, then grabs my arm again, drawing me toward him. “How dare you speak to me like…” His voice trails off, his focus drifting from my eyes to my chin. “Is that a goddamn bruise?”
Shit!I forgot Johnny bit me.
“It’s nothing.”
“The hell it is! Didhedo this?” he demands. “Your ‘ace of spades?’ Jesus, Becca! What have you gotten yourself involved in this time? Whoisthis guy?” His rapid-fire questions come one right after the other without giving me a chance to answer.
Not like I would anyway. My father gave up the right to know anything about me the day he shook a little girl’s fragile mind like a snow globe.
The day he chose silence over justice.
“My ace of spades” may be a criminal—his presence may threaten my career or even endanger my life—but at least it won’t be while hiding behind a fucking badge.
“Just another hero-laced devil,” I say, dislodging his hold with a tight smirk. Then, once again, I turn my back on my father and walk away.
Chapter Fifteen
JOHNNY
It’s Tuesday.
I haven’t slept since Becca’s warehouse insurrection. For seven straight nights, I’ve done nothing but watch her through the camera feed on my phone. After she provoked me into driving a reckless charge over a lust-filled landmine, I had no choice.
Shit’s about to get extra twisted real fast.
I drum my fingers on my thigh, watching as Becca shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “You smell like summer.”
“Pardon?”
“Wild violets,” I say, amused at the way she looks everywherebutmy face. “They grow everywhere in the summer. That’s what you smell like—fruit, powder, and sunshine.”
