Page 26 of Crush (Deadly Hearts 1)

ChapterFourteen

David

“So who are you?” I ask the silent, gorgeously suited man that drove Ruby to work this morning.

Ruby turns quickly, casting her gaze to him and then to me. “He’s no one,” she says.

“Declan Gannon,” he says, which makes Ruby balk and go slightly pale.

“Seriously,” she hisses. “You want all of us to know who you are?”

“I have nothing to hide…well, not from you and…” He waves his hand vaguely at the rest of us clowns that he apparently can’t be bothered enough with to learn our names.

“David Jones,” I say, and stick out my hand because my mum taught me good manners. Plus, he is uber sexy and those hands are…I can picture them splayed out on Ruby’s skin and I shiver.

He takes it with no hesitation and grips it firmly before letting go. I have an urge to lick my hand now.

“I know who you are,” he says in an accent to die for. I always did love the Irish. “All of you.”

“Hmm,” I murmur, wondering who he is really and why Ruby doesn’t want us to know his name. Must be something underworld-y. I know stuff because I work for the Black Widow but I’m not part of the actual goings-on and that suits me. Darkness is not my jam. I tune out whatever they’re saying now and concentrate on Ruby. Her cheek is battered, and her lip looks sore, but her eyes are lit up like she’s had amazing sex followed by a great night’s sleep. My eyes drift over to the Irish god and Layton, who is also quite the hottie. Which one? I’m not at all jealous, even though I have been in love with this woman since I came to work for her three years ago. I know she thinks I’m gay, so many people do because of my exuberant nature but that’s not the case. I used to be until I realized that I didn’t care about gender. I discovered I could be attracted to a person whether they had a cock or a pussy. The little scene outside was meticulously planned by me to show Ruby that I’m not just about the men. Jess, my next-door neighbor was happy to play along. Always up for doing a spot of acting. Now she will see me for who I really am and then hopefully she will fall in love with me. I sigh. That’s a joke. She won’t even look twice at me when she has these three goons drooling all over her.

“You okay?” Ruby asks, concerned with my huffing.

“Fine,” I reply.

“Hm,” she murmurs and then looks back at Layton. “Tell me everything.”

I tune back into their conversation and then wish I’d been paying attention from the get-go.

“Scott sent his enforcer to blackmail me into spying on you,” Layton says, his voice dark and low.

“Wait? What? Scott?” I blurt out.

“Yeah. Not so much an ally,” Layton says. “I agreed to play along because rather me than someone else who will actually report back to him on your activities.”

“You’re going to double cross him?” I ask with a shiver.

“It’s the only way to keep her safe. We can sit down every week and decide what information to drip feed him.”

“Or I could just shoot him in the face,” Declan says.

“Uhm. I agree with Irish, over here,” I pipe up. “If we know he’s part of the problem, why not take him out?” I find nothing wrong with this sentence now, even though three years ago I’d be appalled by it. But it has shed some light on the Irishman. Killer for hire. No wonder there is no light in his deep blue eyes. He lives in the darkness, a ghost. But Ruby clearly has him wrapped around her fingers. He can’t keep his eyes off her. None of them can. Not even me.

I snap my attention back, having drifted off again and smile at her when she looks at me.

“Can we talk?” she asks.

“Sure,” I reply and wait as she shoos the other men out, having come to some sort of plan about Scott. I should’ve known there was something shady about him. He just looks like a creep.

When we are alone in her office, she says, “I owe you an apology.”

“What for?” I reply.

“I didn’t realize you were… I assumed you were gay and that was wrong. I should’ve taken the time to find out…to ask about you more.”

I chuckle at her obvious floundering. “Don’t be a twat,” I say. “I’m here for you. I don’t expect you to ask about me all the time. I could just as easily tell you things.”

“Still. It’s very selfish of me. Can you forgive me?”

“Nothing to forgive,” I say with a shrug, but search her eyes, looking for something—anything—to indicate a flicker of interest.

My mouth goes dry when I see it. I wasn’t actually expecting it. It’s not attraction, or at least I don’t think it is. It’s hard to tell what she’s hiding behind those deep green pools. She is a master of the poker face, but there is something there. A tiny smidgen of… something. I guess only time will tell.

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