Page 99 of Tortured Eyes
Thirty-Three
Seems underhanded of me to have been in the study, listening, but that’s who I am. It’s how I gain information, how I’ve always been able to understand what’s happening on my streets. I learnt it under my father, extended the attribute under Vico, and have used the same tactics ever since. A ghost in the background, whether it was online or on the ground, searching for leverage I can use. Don’t see how this is any different.
And my priest did invite her here.
I pick up my coffee and stand, opening the door into the main lounge so I can look at the place they were both sitting less than ten minutes ago. My footsteps echo off the hardwood floor as I cross to the windows, searching the treeline of the property to see if they have gone to the water’s edge or not. They’re ambling together towards the tree-break that buffers the property before the stretch of sand. His arm’s around her, as if comforting her over the problem she’s got—me. Well, I never was easy to work out. She should have known that right from the get-go. Sitting on my lap and grinding her sweet pussy all over me as if she was in control of everything. She never was, never will be either. But now she’s got a chance of containing me, at least being a part of me, with me.
I drain the last of my drink and wonder what to do next. I could stay hidden and let this pass us by. Probably should. Might be the best thing for her in the long run, but damn just the sound of them together, and the sound of her sweet tones trying to fathom her problem, is making me insane with need to go tell her she’s welcome wherever I am. I might even be able to help her somehow. It’s not like I haven’t got money to back her in whatever venture she chooses to move forward with. Clearly being a cop isn’t in her future as far as she’s concerned.
The thought causes a long sigh to fall from me, my hand putting the cup down as I watch them some more. Not a cop. It’s a situation I’m both enthused and disturbed about. Shame. Good cops are hard to come by, but I guess having spent time around me and learnt about the underworld, it’s not what she thought it was. Toss in the fact that she chose to kill a man in cold blood just because she thought I was worth doing it for, and I suppose a good cop would be fucked-up about that. Conscience is a bitch. Not that I’d know about that anymore, but I guess I had onewith regard to killing once. So long ago, though. My heart’s empty of compassion for that now.
Barren and cold.
Not for these two, though.
Ah, screw this. I’m not getting another shot.
I move swiftly, my feet taking me outside and down the steps before I can change my goddamned mind. She has a right to know I’ve been here, listening and learning. And I have a right to tell her that I get it, I understand now. She's in crisis mode, her head as all over the goddamned place as mine is. Maybe we’ve got a hope of something if I go see her, try more than I have done. What the hell I’m about to say I don’t know, but I’m assuming the right words might fall out in the correct order.
The second my shoes hit the sand she looks over, her red hair bouncing around in the wind. She tucks it behind her ears, backing towards the shoreline and away from my oncoming presence. I glance at Samuel, unsure what’s been said in the last fifteen minutes. He smiles, nothing more, and then slides his hands into his pockets as he waits and listens to whatever she’s saying. I can see her mouth moving, her brow furrowing as I get closer. She’s pissed. Good girl. Guess I would be too if I found out my private conversation wasn’t in fact private.
“Why is he here now?” she says, wiping under her eyes. Crying? Interesting. I must be an utter bastard if she’s resorted to tears. Maybe I am or have been.
Thought we’d got through that, though.
“I’m here because I give a damn, Bryce,” I say, coming to a standstill. “And don’t blame Samuel. He told me to go out and give you space. I didn't. I wanted to hear and understand.” She flicks her eyes between him and me, still frowning. “In fact, given that he’s brought you out here, you should be thanking him for knowing me as well as he does. I could have heard a lot more than I did.” Doesn’t stop the daggers she’s sending his way, though. Nor does it stop her from seeming pissed at the whole goddamn world.
“You’ve been here the whole time?”
“Arrived yesterday.”
“Asshole.”
I nod. True enough.
“I think this is my time to leave,” Samuel says. “But before I do, I’ve thought about it and no, Logan. This will remain separate. Priest or not, I’m not going down any road other than the one I’m already on.” He starts walking, head shaking. “God help me for the sins I’m already committing.”
I don’t look at him go. I’m too focused on the redhead who’s watching him with her mouth gaping. Although, the words he’s left me with are fucking annoying. Would have been enjoyable to watch him with her. Or have him watch us. Doesn’t need to be bi for that. Could be doable.
“What the hell was that?” she snaps.
“What?”
“Have you two been having conversations about the three of us together?”
“Yes. Haven’t you? Apparently, he's not into that. I’ll work on him. He’s a hothead when I get him in the right mood. Kinky. You’ve gone and got him all priestly.” Both her brows shoot up, mouth still trying to find words she’s not managing. “Give him a few days to think it over some more.”
I walk over towards the sea, breathing in the fresh air so I can find some words that might help her out. Not sure what to say though. Come live with me doesn’t seem to cut it, and I’m not even certain I want that. Pretty damn sure I’d be an asshole to live with. And—I turn to look back at her, watching that hair whip around some more—I’m absolutely sure she would be a bitch without space.
“Why didn’t you tell me any of that the other night?” I ask.
“Which bit?”
“All of it, Red. You could have talked to me like you’ve talked to him.”
She scoffs and comes to stand beside me, her arms still tight around her body. I look down at her bare feet swishing the frigid water around, part of me knowing exactly why she wouldn’t say any of that to me. We’re the same, she and I. Closed off. Cold. Angry.
“I’ve never had to talk, Logan. And, forgive me for saying this, but you are the last person on the planet to get emotional with regarding feelings.”
