Page 105 of The Games We Play
“You are?”
“We can’t bring your dad back, little chick. And I’m so fucking sorry for that.” Spark tucks my hair behind my ears. “Because it will ease the tension between us. We don’t have beef with Cillian. In fact, there’s every chance we could be of use to one another. In a business sense.”
“But why would you pay him? You were all doing illegal shit that night. And I don’t know if a payment is enough. He’s rich and loves power.”
Spark puts a finger over my lips. “We don’t ever talk about what we do. But there’s an honor among thieves. We were in the wrong that night. It’s time to pay the piper.”
“So, it’s over?”
“It will be. Your dad was killed because of something put in play by Iron Outlaws members years ago. So, we’re going to compensate you for his loss of life too. Five grand a year for thirteen years. Sixty-five grand total. Won’t make right what happened, but it will help you get Michael settled with us, right?”
It’s like all my Christmases have come at once. I’ll be free of Cillian. I can take Michael and we’ll both be free of Cillian. Even if it takes a legal battle first, because I can now afford a lawyer. We’ll have the resources to help Michael settle. Spark loves me. The thought hits me square in the chest. “You really love me,” I blurt.
“I do. So move in with me, little chick. I’ve got some shit to take care of here while I figure out how to approach Cillian, but tonight, we’re sleeping in my bed. Go home and start packing. I’ll send a couple of prospects with you until I can get there to give you a hand. I’ll bring the van.”
“You took care of us,” I say and throw my arms around him, squeezing him tightly.
He humphs at the gesture. “I’ll bring anything from our room here. Just grab your purse and keys.”
Laughing, I practically skip to his room, but Saint reaches for my arm just before I unlock the door. “Iris,” he says. “A word.”
His face is so forlorn that I place a hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”
He smiles sadly, as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders. “Spark. He’s one of the good ones. And I just wanted to check, well, ensure that ... fuck, do you feel as strongly for him as he does for you?”
It’s an odd question, but then I heard from Spark that Saint was a priest at some point. “I do,” I answer honestly. “Every bit as much, if not more.”
Saint lets go of my arm and nods. “Good, then it makes what he’s about to do mean something.”
“What does that mean?” Flickers of worry trickle through me like a television on the fritz.
“It might emasculate him if you knew, but you should. Can you keep a secret, Iris? No matter what the cost?”
I think about his answer for a moment. “That’s the kind of thing you say to a child. They’ll trust you blankly. But I don’t know what you’re about to say or what your motivation is for saying it. It’s impossible for me to know if I’ll keep that secret or not.”
Saint smiles softly for the first time. “I see why he likes you. The money for you is coming from the club. The money for your uncle? It’s coming from Spark. He already lost three months of pay for disregarding an order so he could be with you. He’s cashing in some of his investments to pay Cillian.”
“He can’t do that. It’s not fair that he should—”
“You’ll let him, Iris. And you won’t ever tell him you know he did it. He’s proud to take care of you any way he can. Let him have his pride. Don’t beg him not to. Don’t tell him he can’t. Let him be who he is. A man who would do anything to protect any of us. I just ... these are all good men. I only wish I was half the man Spark is. Some days, I feel like an imposter.” He looks around the clubhouse with a fondness that goes beyond simple friendship. And yet, in some ways, it’s like he’s seeing them all for the first time.
I see Spark in discussion with Clutch and King. For a second, I’m worried, and then King grabs Spark by the back of the neck and hugs him firmly. When King looks up, he sees me watching and winks in my direction.
It eases the tightening in my stomach that Saint’s words caused.
“Take care of Spark,” Saint says, before disappearing into his room.
I rush home and start packing up the cheap rental that served me well. It gave me a place to land out of college. Even with its damp corners and small bathroom, it’s given me some of my best moments. Like when Spark broke into my house to take care of me.
As red flags go, that should have been a big one. But I’m glad I took the time to get to know him. His protective instincts know no bounds and offer me a safety and comfort I’ve been searching for my whole life.
At some point, I’ll process the fact I’ve found myself connected to the very life I tried to escape. But I read a book once, one of those super literary things that sell a bazillion copies. This kid starts as a miserable shepherd boy and goes off on all these fabulous adventures, but ends up as a shepherd boy again. Only this time, he feels free and happy instead of trapped and miserable. Maybe that’s me. Coming back to this dangerous life I never wanted any part of, only this time it’s by choice instead of being born into it.
Perhaps I should check out that book from the library and read it again.
I’ve been home for five minutes when there’s a knock at the door, and I wonder if Spark wrapped up early.
I jog down the stairs and fling the door open wide. “Hey—”
