Page 59 of Selling Innocence

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Tor

The tension in the house was obvious. The least observant person would have felt it, but I was especially untuned.

Because I rarely spoke, I noticed more than most. Subtle changes in others were clear to me when normal people might have missed them.

This tension had started this morning, when Vance had snuck out of the house, carefully avoiding Kenz.

Of course, Kenz had left his room early in the morning, so it didn’t take much to guess what had happened.

Or, perhaps not… She hadn’t appeared embarrassed, as though sneaking out of a room after a one-night stand. Instead, her expression held worries and questions.

Likewise, I hadn’t known Vance to ever avoid people after casual sex. If anything, he acted proud of his indiscretions, more likely to flaunt such things like a victory lap. Certainly not to hide them.

So what actually happened in that room?

My gaze landed on Vance, who stared at his right hand.

Ah, that’s it?

I knew about his hand—we all did. It had brought us together, after all. We all wore our wounds from that fateful night, from the event that had altered the course of all our lives.

Still, he’d never spoken about it. He’d never admitted anything, never removed his gloves, never said a word about it.

I knew he’d gone to physical therapy, because I preferred to know what the others were up to. No matter how much pain he must have been in, or how difficult tasks were to complete, he had never allowed anyone to see his struggle.

I would be a useless hitman if I couldn’t spot a near useless limb, though. Over the past five years, he’d gotten better at using his left hand for most things. He’d also gotten different.

He’d grown colder, with the smile he wore less honest as time went on. He would buy those canvases, but I had year to see him finish or bring any artwork out.

However, we weren’t the sort of people to pryinto each other’s lives beyond what bound us to one another. We all walked our own paths, interacting simply because those paths ran parallel to each other.

And my silence gave me the chance to observe the others, to gather information, to understand them.

The leader, Hayden, who took on the weight of the world all himself. He was controlling and worried far too much, even if he would never admit it. Char, with his false face he showed to the world, too afraid to allow anyone close enough to reject the real him. Vance, who had lost a piece of himself and now walked through life hollow and in complete and broken.

And me, the hitman with so much blood on my hands that I knew better than to get close to others.

Then there’s Kenz… My mind went back to the little spit of a girl who lived with us, who had created ripples on the pond that had been our settled lives. The way she perked up the moment anyone said a kind word went to show she craved attention, affection, but she wanted it too much.

The way she deflated when people didn’t give her that praise, the fear in her eyes when she tried to care for others, it proved that she’d gone without that reassurance before in her life.

It made me want to know more about her, which was a strange desire from me.

While I watched others, while I saw everything, I cared little about the information outside my job. With Kenz, however, I wanted to interact, not just watch. I wanted to go nearer to her, to discover the secrets she hid, to…

I wasn’t sure, honestly.

I’d never felt this way, so I didn’t know how to define or explain it.

“They’re late,” Char muttered, seated on the couch with his feet up on the table. His mood was even fouler than usual.

Jealousy?

“Hayden said they’d be back in about half an hour.” Vance jerked his gaze from his hand, as though he’d realized someone might notice.

“He spoils her,” Char went on. “He acts like she’s on vacation here, like she’s on Spring Break or something. He should be tougher on her.”

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