Page 79 of Tortured Eyes
“Yes.”
Sirens sound in the background somewhere close by. My eyes turn to the sound, and I think about leaving. I’ve been a bad man tonight, and this gun in my belt could prove it if cops start digging around. I glance at the two men sprawled out on the floor, one dead, one about to wake up and tell the world I killed the other.
“You’re timing’s fuck awful for romance, Bryce.” Still, she stands there. No quiver in her stance or words to help. “And I’ll need that permission we were discussing before I even think about words.”
She walks closer, her own head turning to the sound of sirens. Their screaming doesn’t stop my desire for those lips, though. Pretty damn sure I’d risk getting caught for the feel of them on me again.
"You didn't need permission the first time," she says.
"I didn't give a damn about you, at first."
Quiet for a few seconds. Can't even hear those sirens anymore,regardless of the fact that they're probably getting closer.
“You’re bleeding,” she says softly, less than a few feet away. I look at the wrist she’s staring at, watching the blood pour over my knuckles. “You’ve been shot, and you still came for me?” I shrug. It is what it is. Barely a decent wound at all. Certainly, wasn't stopping me getting to her. “You should go. Get it cleaned up and…”
I step in, closing the distance and the words from her mouth down. I know I should go. I don’t want to, though. I just want something, anything from her to tell me it’s okay to touch her the way I want to.
“Tell me you want me before I do. Just say it once.” Her hand reaches for my wrist, fingers pressing gently and coating themselves in my blood.
"I… " She gazes, her pretty, endless eyes making me think about nothing but her. That’s all there is here. Me, her, and these shadows we’re in blurring lines we should keep solid and unpassable. They’re not, though. Not for us. We’re crossing lines. Blending them into murky territory where the law becomes indistinct, irrelevant.
Our fingers link, another small step from me moving us closer. And then she’s suddenly backing off three paces, her focus directed over my shoulder. “Mason,” she snaps.
I groan and swing my head around to look at him over my shoulder, my eyes like fucking slits. He stands there at the end of the alley surveying the scene. I look him over and turn fully, my frame blocking her from him. Asshole needs putting down for interfering with my romantic mood. We were just getting somewhere.
“McCarthy,” he says, walking closer. “And Logan Cane.”
I don’t answer as he looks at the dead guy on the floor, nor do I move from my spot. Too late now for getting my ass out of here. He glances at my wrist, noting the blood.
“Mason, back the hell off,” she spits, moving her body around to get between us. “Why are you suddenly here?”
“Got a call in about a bike crash on Tenth.”
“And why would you, on a night with all these drug-related murders, be here for that?”
He doesn’t reply, just casts his gaze around the area again and then looks back at her.
“No answer? Perhaps you were coming to check the job had been done?”
Still no answer. I move to her side and listen to the sirens a way off, trying to get a feel for what’s happening here. “This was you, wasn’t it? Ten minutes after I challenge you, I’m suddenly knocked off my bike? Something to hide, Mason?”
He looks at me, cagey-as-fuck eyes making me think she was right all along not to trust him. The thought that I don’t know these streets and cops as well as I should pisses me off. I should know. She certainly should.
“Prove it,” he mutters. “You’re a fucking joke, McCarthy. No goddamn idea what’s happening around you,” he eventually says. Well, he’s right about that last bit, but still. “You started messing around in shit you didn’t have a right to mess with. And now look. Chaos. All because of you.” And now I start to see why he’s so pissed with Bryce.
“Asshole,” she spits, her feet striding towards him. “Who’s been paying you? How long have you been on the take?”
“Screw you. You’ve been a pain in my ass for too damn long. Ask your friend here how it works. Maybe he can fill you in.”
My brow rises. Already have done, but if he wants a goddamn conversation about who’s in control now, I’ll be happy to oblige. Shame of it is, my head starts spinning as she lets rip at him about something and barrels forward.
I pull in some breaths and stagger, hand reaching for my shoulder. My head shakes, mind trying to find some clarity as the voices get louder around me. I don’t even know what the fuck this argument is about, let alone what the hell she’s thinking about doing. Still, I came here to protect her. I’ll do it again if I have to. We’ve got unfinished business, and I want it finishing one way or another.
The thought makes me walk forward with her, partly amused at whatever the fuck is going down. I’m backing up a cop? Against another cop? How’s that for a turnaround.
A laugh splutters out of me, mind all over the goddamn place. “I don’t know you,” I chuckle. “I should. One of Mortoni's low-lifes?” He looks at me briefly; his own gaze probably trying to work out what he should do, and then goes straight back at her with more shouted arguments. I don’t give a fuck about arguments. I walk closer, getting in his face. "Thing is, I've just killed every dick of power out here. That means you work for me now. Get your ass out of my face before I rip your head off."
His eyes narrow, and then his gun is out, aimed right at me before I can blink. Everything in me tenses,my hand whipping behind me for my own gun, but the crack of a bullet firing sounds instantly.
