Page 89 of Torched Spades
“Do you mean that? Because the newscast showed a picture of the victim, Johnny. It was the man who attacked me.”
He dips his chin, a piece of his dark hair dusting across his forehead as he pins me with a lethal stare. “Looks like someone took the trash out then.”
I don’t agree, and I don’t argue. I simply accept. He doesn’t have to say the words out loud; in fact, I don’t want him to. As far as I care, that piece of the puzzle can stay missing forever.
It allows me to separate the man from the monster.
Shining a light on the truth doesn’t always set you free. Sometimes it only shrinks the cage. Deep inside the gilded bars that hold my heart, I know he did it, and I need that thin veil of ignorance to protect me from the truth.
I’ve fallen for a replica of the man who destroyed my family.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
“For what?”
“For being my hero-laced devil.”
Leaning forward, Johnny places the card he’s been flipping between his fingers facedown on the coffee table, then pins me with a dark stare. “I’m no hero, Becca. If you believe nothing else about me, believe that.”
I don’t answer, and he doesn’t expand. Instead, he tilts his head and looks up at the two paintings hanging above his head.
“You never told me about that one,” he says, pointing to the one on the right.
Salome.
I haven’t told anyone about her. I’ve remained silent becauseshe’smy soul’s darkest stain. She holds all my secrets behind that sheer veil draped across her face. But one act of trust and loyalty deserves another. So taking a deep breath, I expel my demons.
“Salomeis a lesson in desire and consequence,” I tell him.“Herwell-respected father claimed to desire nothing, but it was a lie.”
“He desiredher.”
“He desired her silence,” I correct. “He turned a blind eye, silencing everything that’d reveal his true weakness. He ordered her into darkness so he wouldn’t have to face his own truth.”
“But ignorance comes at a cost,” he says matter-of-factly. “Eventually, his secret became exposed, and Salome paid the ultimate price.”
Over and over and over.
“To him, it’s the only way to assert his control and make her invisible.”
“His actions weren’t her fault, Becca,” he says sharply, and I wince. I wish I could believe that. I wish I could lay all the blame at his feet, but twenty-two years of complacency have proven otherwise.
I shrug. “A lingering look at her invites death.” I gesture toward the dark eyes on the wall staring back at me. “Her innocence is a lie. Behind all that poise and grace, she’s a dangerous femme fatale.”
“So dancing woman behind the veil…”
“Is really a corpse rotting behind a shroud.”
He scrapes his hand across his mouth. “God, Becca.”
No, there’s no God here.
“Don’t you see, Johnny?” I grip the armrests of the chair so hard my knuckles burn. “All the power in the world can’t disguise immorality.”
As I whisper the last words, Johnny rises from his seat and rounds the table. “You’ve been waiting for someone to see her,” he murmurs, grazing his index finger up the column of my neck. “To seeyou.”
Stiffening, I pull away, causing his jaw to tighten. “Don’t.”
“What are we doing here, Becca?”
