Page 91 of Tortured Soul
“Of course he did. Did you expect him to share that story with you around a couple of beers?”
I didn’t. I asked to get a rise out of him, and it worked. But now, I was curious.
“Please, Arc,” I said, lowering my voice.
Intensity sparked in his eyes as he straightened up, not laughing anymore. His piercing gaze roamed my face and dipped to my lips for a short beat.
He leaned forward and I held my breath.
“I can’t,” he said. “If you want to know why he fell, you two are going to have to learn to get along so you can ask him yourself.”
I averted my eyes, brushing the goosebumps spreading along my arms off with a snort.
“You don’t know, do you?”
“Oh, I do.” He chucked and I looked back at him, searching his face, any emotion that could tip me off. “But as I said, it’s not my story to tell. If—”
He stopped abruptly, his eyes glazing over, stuck looking at me without actually seeing me.
I titled my head to the side, but he didn’t follow, staring straight ahead.
What was—
He blinked and shook his head, wincing.
“Sorry,” he said. “I—It was Carter.”
It was what?
“Carter?”
He released a long exhale, fumbling with the corner of his napkin over the table, sliding his other hand in his hair to pull it back from his forehead.
“Dimitri’s about to leave. We should head to the gates.”
He stood up, ignoring my question and pushed his chair back. His hand twitched at his side, like he held himself from handing it to me, before he slid it in his jeans pockets.
Why was he all flirty and touchy one minute, then cold and distant the next?
I groaned as Arc waited for me, holding the door open.
“I’m not sure I want to go back here,” I said. “Last time you left me here to rot for hours.”
“Carter’s fault,” Arc said, tapping his foot on the floor in impatience. “He can be a petty bastard.”
Yeah, right.
I walked past him, my shoulder brushing his chest, and climbed up the stairs.
“The only surprising thing in that sentence is that you insinuate that he’s not always a petty bastard.”
His non-response only made me more confident about my own statement.
I didn’t have the time to place my hand on the handle before the door opened in front of me, welcoming me in the strange but familiar room.
Still cold and dusty.
Dimitri was standing in the middle, his arms crossed over his chest, Jeremiah facing him in the same stance. Both men were staring each other down while Ann stood next to the door, holding a chart close to herself.
