Page 53 of Devoured
“Something like that,” I said.
“What’s he like anyway? You’ve been working with him?”
“He’s fine.” Then I thought about it; was that truly how I felt? I corrected myself, “Actually, he’s better than fine. Better than I thought he would be.”
“Rourke can take care of him too,” you know.
There were those words again, ever suspicious.Take care of him. The kind of thing I was guessing I didn’t want to know the meaning of.
“You mean Rourke willtalkto him, billionaire to billionaire?”
“They’ll talk,” Melissa said, her voice lilting in a way that showed that she was leaving parts out. Important details. Crucial details. Roland might have been an arrogant asshole at times, but he was reasonable. Mostly. Except when it came to bets. But if you put that aside, he was level-headed, especially when it came to business.
Or were his random drug trips evidence that I couldn’t rely on him even when it came to business?
I shrugged my shoulders. A simple conversation between two men couldn’t hurt.
“If you think it’ll help,” I said, “Sure. Have Rourke talk to him. It can’t hurt, right?”
“About that,” Melissa started. “I should warn you: sometimes Rourke can,” she paused, glancing behind her, “get a little physical.”
There was a gleam in her eye like she couldn’t explain why she was proud of him. It made me uneasy.
“I don’t think it will, honestly,” I said. “Roland isn’t like that. But if he does turn out to be violent, then, by all means, do what you have to do.” I shook my head. “And I feel weird saying this, but please don’t kill him. I need him alive.”
Melissa shrugged. “We can do that.”
A few cars drove by us. We both turned our heads to watch the road, then faced the ocean once again. Business was over, which meant I could ask the truly hard questions now. I turned to her.
“Did you hear about Jake?” I asked.
She took in a deep breath. “I have mixed feelings about it,” she said quietly. “I’m just glad Rourke didn’t kill him.”
Kill him?I hoped she had meant the word rhetorically, but as I glanced at him, I realized that there was a chance she was serious. Especially if he was protective over her. Melissa and Jake had been best friends. He was the reason she had learned about the Dahlia District in the first place, which beat living off of her old roommate. And although Jake had drugged and raped her multiple times, like the other servers, Melissa never wanted to believe it. She drank too much. She wasn’t thinking. She blamed herself. Because Jake had always been there for her. There was no way he could rape her unconscious body.
“You know he never hurt me,” she said. “Not physically, anyway.”
“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t rape.”
“Such a strong word.Rape.” She crossed her arms, tucking them under each other. “But as long as the justice system came to a fit conclusion, I guess I can’t really complain.”
“Fifteen years.” Had he already reported to the prison, or was he still roaming the streets, getting in his last good times?
“I wish I had done something sooner,” Melissa whispered.
“We all do,” I said. But we were all in denial. No one wanted to believe that anything was wrong.
Rourke stepped out of the trees, a string of twine tangled in his fingers as if he were playing a game of cat’s cradle. He pointed to the black SUVs parked at the ends of the side streets bordering the tattoo shop.
“They’re watching you,” he said, his voice harsh. His eyes were black, peering into me. He gave me the creeps.
“They’re my security,” I said. “Roland insisted.”
“They’re not protecting you,” he said. He nodded towards them. “They’re watching you.”
I bit my tongue, trying to hide the fear rising in my chest. What was his problem, anyway? He pointed to a man standing on the opposite side of the road, in the cover of a small shop, smoking a cigarette. Black hair. Inky streaks of fresh dye traveling down his neck. The same black suit and white collared shirt that the other security guards were wearing.
“Who’s he?” Rourke asked.
