Page 8 of Twisted Trust
“We can’t stay here.”
Chip hovers at my elbow as I stand, half-leaning out of an open window of the fourth floor of the hospital. Smoke curls past my lips and I tap my cigarette on the window frame, then lift it to my lips. “Why not?”
“You know why,” Chip mutters, leaning in close. “You’re seriously going to pretend like you’re not thinking about what Iknowyou’re thinking about?”
I drag deeply on my cig. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit,” Chip snaps and he leans closer. “That’s Maeve. I know it and you know it.”
“Hard to tell under all that blood.”
“Don’t fuck with me.” Chip nudges me with his shoulder. “Look, you know I have your back no matter what, but the longer you stay here, the more chance there is of you giving in to your murderous desires and killing her. I know how badly you want to after everything that happened, but we’re in a hospital and there are too many witnesses.”
“So you think I can’t control myself?”
Chip’s gaze meets mine and he rolls my eyes. “You never could around her.”
“That was before she betrayed me.”
“And your desire for revenge made you so sane over the years,” he replies sarcastically. “We’re already late to meet Antony.”
“Fuck Antony.”
“Levi!” Chip grabs my arm and forces me to face him. “Talk to me. What is going on?”
I want to tell him.
He’s only ever been my friend and ally.
But how do I tell him that seeing her again after five years feels like my entire skeleton has turned to shards and is trying to crawl out of my body?
That the thought of her brings so much anger and heartbreak that I almost can’t breathe?
That being in the same building as her has reignited all of my dark fantasies about making her scream until she understands even a fraction of the agony she put me through?
It all swirls like a dark cloud in my chest but none of the words come.
I can’t move past the image of her beaten face in my mind.
What are the chances we’d find each other here, now, after all these years?
“I’m not going to kill her. Not here.” Discarding the butt of my cigarette, I pull another from the near-empty packet. I’ve smoked almost the entire packet since we arrived here. Lighting it with a flick of my wrist, I turn back out the window and inhale the momentarily calming nicotine bliss. “Like you said, there are too many witnesses.”
“So we’re leaving?” Chip raises a brow. “Meeting with Antony, remember? About the casinos? The dice? Making Father proud, etcetera?” Chip speaks from a place of concern. He always has, so his words don’t anger me the same way they would coming from someone else.
“Not until I know for sure.”
“You think she just has a Las Vegas lookalike?”
I shoot him a glance. “We always have to be sure.”
Chip’s expression softens a fraction and his gaze drops. “I know. I’m not trying to be a dick.”
“I know.”
“I just know how much she hurt you. And how hard you’ve worked since?—”
“I know.” I cut him off quickly. “I just need to be sure.”
