Behind Your Back - Cameron Chelsea M. - Страница 49
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“This is the least I can do for you since you came with me today,” she says through a yawn.
I can’t seem to find the words to say.
“I’m sorry.”
I don’t know what I’m sorry for.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Quinn. I’m worried about you. You seem sad and… lost.” She’s too perceptive for her own good. Part of me wishes I could go back in time and never take this job. What would have happened if I’d just gone into that coffee shop and met her? Just met her. Just been Sylas from the beginning.
There’s no such thing as a time machine. No way to go back. I can’t leap into Lizzy’s Harry Potter books and use a spell to do it. This is real and the dice have been cast. I rolled my hand and now I have to deal with the numbers that I’ve been given.
“You’re thinking awfully hard over there,” Saige says, dragging one finger between my eyes.
“I’m fine,” I say. Such a lie.
“I wish you could talk to me. I wish you could trust me.” I don’t trust anyone. Not really.
“It’s not easy for me to trust people. I’ve been burned before,” I say, my voice quiet.
“I can understand that. People can sometimes let you down. And sometimes people aren’t what they seem and you don’t know until it’s too late.” Her voice drops as well and we’re whispering together in the dark.
I’m going to be one of those people. She’ll add me to the list of people who aren’t what they seem. I look down at her in the dark and I wish I could fuck her again so I can have some more peace in my head.
“There’s a deep sadness in you, Quinn. What happened to you?”
“My mother died. She was murdered,” I say. I can’t hold it in anymore. Even if I can’t tell her the whole truth, I can give her bits of it and that will hopefully help the storm raging through my brain.
“Oh, Quinn. I’m so sorry.” She strokes my chest and lays her head on my heart. “I’m so sorry for you. How old were you?”
“Almost eighteen.” I’d been old enough that I’d gotten custody of Lizzy, at least, but that didn’t make it any easier. It didn’t matter how old you were, finding your mother’s body in the kitchen would always be the most horrible thing to happen in your life.
“So you were left all alone?” she asks. I have to swallow before I answer.
“Yes.” No matter what, I will never tell her about Lizzy.
She shivers and pulls closer to me.
“I can’t even imagine.” No, she can’t. Her parents might be cold and critical of her, but at least they’re alive. They love her and if push came to shove, they would do anything for her.
“I don’t like to talk about it. Not many people know. It can be a bit of a conversational downer.” I’m trying to make a joke, but it falls flat.
“I don’t think there’s anything I can say to make you feel better, but that’s not going to stop me from trying.” Her green eyes glow out at me in the dark and that intensity from earlier is back. Like she’s trying to get me to understand something she can’t say out loud.
“You didn’t deserve what happened to you. No one deserves that. There are people who will give you bullshit platitudes and tell you that everything happens for a reason, but that’s a lie. Sometimes there’s no reason when terrible things happen. They just happen and we’re left to pick up the pieces.” For someone who has never had a major tragedy, Saige certainly seems to know what to say.
“Thank you,” I say. They’re the only two words I can come up with.
“You’re welcome, Quinn.” She sighs and closes her eyes. I put my arms around her and finally drift off into sleep.
Twenty-Five
I don’t wake again until Saige’s alarm goes off at six. She’s still lying on me. Both of us slept heavily and well.
Her arm reaches over me and slaps the clock so it will stop buzzing.
“I have class at eight,” she says, but I know that. I’ve also missed two days of work and my boss is going to have my head if I don’t go in.
She unwinds herself from me and heads to the bathroom to take a shower. I retrieve my discarded clothes from where they were thrown in heaps. Before I can put my shirt over my head, I set the clothes down again and join Saige in the shower. She’s not surprised when I step in, turning to me with a smile.
“I shouldn’t feel as rested as I do. There’s something to be said for sleeping with you, Quinn.” She steps aside so I can get under the spray and then she hands me the bottle of shampoo. It’s cinnamon and sandalwood, so I go ahead and use it. We trade spots under the showerhead and both get clean. I want to fuck her again, but there isn’t time. I need to get back to my place and put my suit on. I need to feed Leo and figure out what I’m going to do about the picture of my mother. I’ve been able to take a few hours to not think about those things and now that time is up.
“I have a question for you,” she says as we’re toweling off and I’m getting dressed again.
“Yes?” I say and she smiles up at me.
“How would you like to come to dinner with my parents again this weekend? I think my mom wants to interrogate you this time since she wasted last time on me.” She’s playing right into my hands. After all the shitty luck I’ve had lately, this is good.
“I would feel fine, as long as I have you to protect me,” I say. She can’t know I’m so eager to be with her parents again.
“Well, I can’t make any promises, but I’ll reward you for a job well done.” She drops her towel and walks naked to her closet where she starts pulling clothes out.
“Do you want me to put some lotion on your tattoo?” I ask. I’d helped her wash it with antibacterial soap in the shower. It’s still red and angry, but in no time it will be peeling.
“Thanks,” she says over her shoulder. I swipe the lotion on her tattoo and she sighs in relief.
“That feels really good.”
I love touching her. I wish I could spend my entire life just touching her and fucking her and being with her. But luck is not on our side. I won’t call it fate. I don’t believe in fate.
I rub my hands together to absorb the remnants of lotion and then get dressed.
“Let me know about this weekend,” I say as she walks me to her door.
“I will.” We share one sweet kiss and then she’s shutting the door and I have to get back to reality.
The box with my mother’s picture in it is still in my safe when I get back. In some stupid part of my brain I thought that maybe it was a dream. Or a mirage. Or that my brain had scrambled itself and I was actually going crazy.
No. It’s still there. I run my fingers over the frame and have an idea. I turn the frame over and pop the back off.
Marina, my love.
The handwriting doesn’t look familiar, but it’s clearly masculine. Who wrote this? Who’s had this picture? And why are they stalking me now? My theory on the stalker had always been that it was someone I had taken money from, but now I’m having other ideas.
Maybe the stalker is from further back than that. Maybe they’re trying to tell me something. The messages I’ve gotten have been more playful than threatening. Have I been reading this the wrong way?
There isn’t time to think more about it. I have to go to work. On my way, I text Cash that I’ve got the green light for visiting Beaumont with Saige this weekend and that I’ll need all the surveillance equipment. It’s amazing what you can put a camera and a microphone into these days. I’ll also put a trace on his computer and with any luck we’ll have everything we need for the final confrontation. Right on schedule.
We’ve also started the plans for California. Hardy is busy finding us housing, getting places to store everything and finding a garage to put the cars in. I don’t have to do any work on that front. The guys have it well in hand. It’s a job to move us, but we’ve done it so many times that we have it down to a science. I’m grateful for small mercies.
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