Page 136 of Requiem of Sin

“No, it’s definitely not.” Clara peers at me from the corners of her eyes for a moment. Then, to my surprise, she snickers a tiny, broken little laugh. “I’m sorry; this isn’t funny at all. I just… I just imagined you with aviators and a mustache and, like, a big highway patrolman’s hat.”

I should scold her for jumping topics, but I was just imagining her spread wide and moaning in the backseat of the car. Like I am again…right now….

Get a hold of yourself, man.

I clear my throat and manage a wry smirk. “Willow might like the mustache.”

“Absolutely not.” Clara snorts and shakes her head. “She’d probably shave you in your sleep. With my help.”

Something tightens in my chest at howeasythis is. Her. Me. Us. Easing tension with jokes, talking about our kid…

She must feel the shift inside me, because she returns to her slump against the car door. It’s just as well. I’m having a hard time as it is—literally—reminding myself that there’s supposed to be a giant wall of hate between us.

There’s supposed to be. But as time goes by, it feels less like a wall and more like a chain link fence. Full of holes we keep slipping through again and again.

“I want to help.” Clara sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose with one finger. “Really. I can’t… I can’t sleep right, I can’t evensitright, knowing that I put an innocent man in prison for the rest of his life. And even worse, knowing that the real killer got away with it. I don’t know how to help… But fuck it; I’m going to try. One way or another, I’m going to make this right. For you, for Tolya… and for Willow.”

My brow lifts. “Willow?”

Clara fixes her steady gaze on me. It’s one of those steady glares that makes her eyes look even brighter and more intense than usual. “She needs to see her mother accept responsibility and do what’s right. She needs to see the best example of humanity I can give her. Lord knows she won’t get it from her father.”

Or from me.

I shouldn’t care. I really shouldn’t. But for some stupid fucking reason, that final thought still hits like a punch to the gut.

The rest of the drive home is spent with both of us in our respective dark thoughts, my own swirling around with questions I don’t have answers to.

And the ones Icananswer are the ones I most need to ignore.

56

DEMYEN

Clara immediately starts to beeline for Willow’s room once we leave the garage, but I grab her arm. “It’s late,” I remind her. “Willow is already in bed.”

“How do you?—”

“Bambi texted me. Gloria tucked her in withGoodnight, Moon.”

That brings a small smile to Clara’s face. “Oh. Well. Okay.”

“Come on.” I slide my hand down her arm to her fingers and give them a tug. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink.”

I’m wide awake. The sun set hours ago, the stars are scattered across the sky, and most of the household is fast asleep. But I’m wide awake and unable to calm the raging storm of thoughts battering around inside my head.

Who killed Michael Little?

Who kidnapped Clara Everett?

What the fuck was Tolya thinking?

What’s Greg Everett’s angle in all this?

What is Clara wearing underneath that dress?

I clench my free hand into a fist so hard that my fingernails bite into my skin and snap me back to reality. Unfortunately, it does not have the same effect on my dick, which can’t seem to ignore every alluring aspect of the woman walking next to me.

Wasn’t I pissed at her just this morning? Didn’t I threaten the fuck out of her by dragging her to the prison? Isn’t she supposed to be the bane of my goddamn existence?

---