Page 22 of White Raven
“Yeah, he is. And that’s all we’re saying about him.”
Ryan crossed her arms and leaned back in the screeching chair. Rhaena’s jaw tightened in annoyance. “You’re no fun, partner.” That didn’t seem to help her shitty attitude. She could freeze to death with the stare coming from the other side of the desks.
“Come on. We’ve got shit to do. Let’s go find something to eat.”
They both stood, pushing the chairs under their desks and pulling on their coats. She followed Northwood through the precinct towards the elevator and smiled at the many male faces that gave her sultry looks around the room. There was no reason, she figured, why she couldn’t make her time here a little more interesting. Her partner may not be easing into the idea of warming up to her, but it seemed several others around the station were more than willing. As the elevator dinged, and they both stepped inside, a text message buzzed through her phone. Ryan slid her thumb across the screen, opening it as she turned herself away from her partner.
Boss Man: Please stop raising attention to yourself. Somebody up there is already digging for information about you. Low profile. Don’t forget why you’re there, or you’ll be on the next plane back to Seattle.
Ryan rolled her eyes and sighed, shoving the phone back into her pocket. Rhaena watched the light above the doors as they indicated each floor they lowered to. “Everything alright?” she asked with an amused tone. Ryan shrugged, forcing a tight smile.
“Peachy.”
“Yeah, well…I decided I don’t much care for this shithole anyway. Thanks for nothing, asshole. I hope you’re prepared for a nice big lawsuit.” Wren hung up her phone and threw it across the living room. It thwacked against the edge of the coffee table, cracking the screen. Whatever.
She wasn’t surprised to hear that the tattoo shop had replaced her. She hadn’t been to work in weeks, and while she couldn’t blame them for filling her spot, the idea that her big-wig asshat of a boss couldn’t be a little more understanding of everything she’d been through sought to win out over what little remorse she had. Brent could easily bury that place in legal red tape. Brent—he had called and texted several times. She still hadn’t responded. A line had been crossed, and there wasn’t any going back over it at this point. It was safe to say that she still wasn’t exactly surewhatshe felt for him, even though she had alotof trouble forgetting how good that kiss was. The things that simple…naturalneeds overpowered. Something did spark there, and she couldn’t deny that if she wanted to. It had ignited like a brush fire when he’d opened his eyes and spoke to her after his surgery. It may have even fired up the moment she heard him calling her name in that house and tearing through it to find her and get her the hell out of that basement.
Or it could have been the moment he stepped in front of that bullet that he took for her.
It felt like some kind of war inside that she didn’t know how to win. The feelings she was catching forBrent Stratford, of all people…that could have gone back a ways before she’d even been taken. Also something Wren wasn’t willing to acknowledge. But now? The guilt she couldn’t help but feel at what he was now going through because of her…it was weighing pretty heavy, and there weren’t enough cigarettes in the world for the stress it was causing her. Not only had he almost died, he lost his father—his father that shot him in the gut. His father that he shared blood with who was also capable of everything that he’d done to her. The beatings. The kidnapping. The whole reason that she couldn’t face anyone right now. All the hope that had been stolen from her. It was all just too much.
She should talk to him. She just didn’t have any clue what to say. Wasn’t sure if it would hurt him now that she’d kissed him—like a fuckingidiot—and when and if they finally spoke, she’d adamantly refuse to talk about it. Because that’s exactly what would happen. She should at least check in with him though. Sarah had told her he had come home. Wren hadn’t asked her how he was doing, and it wasn’t because she wasn’t dying to know…she didn’t want to have that conversation with Sarah either. Or anyone else for that matter. She was already having a difficult enough time being alone withherself.
Denver weaved his way around her legs, mewing for God knows what. She’d given him a heaping bowl of milk earlier, but fat boys needed snacks. Wren crossed the living room and picked up the phone, finding Brent’s number and giving her thumb time to hover over the call button hesitantly before finally pressing it. He picked up on the third ring, and he sounded like he was out of breath.
“Holy shit…you’re alive.”It might have been the first time she’d smiled in days.
“What in God’s name are you doing to sound like that? Or do I even wanna know? You know what…don’t answer that. Idon’twanna know.”
Brent huffed a breathy laugh.“I’m working out.”
“Ew…”
“What? It beats the hell out of physical therapy.”
“Should you even be doing that? You just got shot, Brent.”
“It hurts a little, but not bad. I gotta get my mind off shit.”
That was something she understood. A half-finished canvas sat on her easel with tiny spots of blood she knew had to have been hers from when Conrad—Wren squeezed her eyes shut and dragged a palm down her face. “I can get behind that.”
There was a long pause, and Brent’s breathing seemed to ease on the other end of the phone. He must have sat down…or laid down. Wren bit down on her lip, wondering why she thought she was ready for this damn phone call.
“Wren…”
She tried earnestly to keep him from hearing her sniffling, and took a moment before answering so that she could disguise her voice enough to hide the fact that she was breaking. “Yep?” she choked. Pitiful fucking attempt.
“Look, I’m not gonna ask if you’re okay. I know you’re not. There could be a light at the end of this tunnel…or there could be a dumpster fire.”Wren snorted a laugh through her tears.“Either way, I—just know you’re not alone in it. I’m not okay, either. For what it’s worth…I’ve lied about it. I’ll probably continue to lie about it until I crack. But you have me. If you want me, that is.”
That statement was so fucking loaded. So was whatever possible answer she’d have, and it seemed like the wrong time to answer it. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip as it wobbled underneath them. She wasn’t sure why she asked the question that spilled out of her mouth before she could stop it. “Do you regret it?”
“That’s vague as fuck, Vintorri.”
She hadn’t considered that. There hadn’t been enough time. It was possible that he could have regretted about a thousand things he’d done where they were all concerned. Meeting Sarah, and inevitably meeting Wren. Stepping in front of the barrel of that gun. Offering up his mouth and flat out telling her to make a move she wasn’t sure she should have made… “Forget it…I shouldn’t have called.”
“I don’t regret it,”Brent said before she could dismiss wherever this conversation was spiraling.“You can take that however you want to.”
She recalled her phone call with Sarah last night. How he’d asked her to tell her he was thinking about her. There was more, and she knew it, but Sarah hadn’t given anything else. She was staying out of it and letting the pieces fall where they may.
