Chapter 8
EIGHT
CRY, ASSHOLE
Gabe
“What the fuck, and I say this with all the love in my heart, hermano, what the actual fuck are you doing right now?” Manny asks after Adrienne runs from the room.
She didn’t just run… she escaped.
“You and I both know she needs to take this threat seriously,” I bite back.
“Agreed,” Eli adds, “but bro, that was harsh.”
“Killers don’t wait for happy feelings,” I snap. “We all know that.”
“There’s something else going on here though…” Manny begins.
“Don’t,” I reply. “There’s nothing here but the job, man.”
“Which is why you call her a brat to her face in Spanish,” Manny says and Eli looks like he’s swallowed a bug. “Do you think she’s fluent?”
“That’s… awful,” Eli adds. “Also, no.”
“It is,” Manny says, going in for the kill. “You’re better than that.”
“This is just a normal job—” I start but he interrupts me.
“You made her cry, asshole. Now go and fix it while we clean up.”
I let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine but this doesn’t mean this is deeper than a job.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
I push my chair back and stand feeling a little like the asshole he called me. Doesn’t he know what a bad idea this is? I can’t live in close proximity with this woman.
She’s all bright sunshine and excitement.
She’s alive, and I’m all but dead.
I climb the stairs and knock on the door of her room but get no response. I knock harder but… nothing.
“Adrienne,” I shout. “Open this door right now.”
I hear the water turn off and her soft footfalls before the door flies open.
“What’s going on?” she asks. Her eyes are red like she’s been crying.
Fuck, Manny was right. She was crying because of me.
I’m a dick, for sure, but I don’t know what to do to fix this. Macy was always the one to tell me how I fucked up and what to do to fix it, but she was my wife and this woman is just a client.
“You’ve been in there for over an hour.” I grasp for some reasonable explanation. “I was worried.”
“Well”—she takes a deep breath that makes her full, firm tits defy the bounds of her plush towel—“as you can see, I’m fine.”
“I’m not sure you are.”
“The room at the end of the hall is the guest room,” she says, changing the subject.
“I found it.” I want to reach out to comfort her while she stands here trying to be strong. But she’s still all alone in the world while it’s falling apart around her. That’s not my place.
“I’m sure you’ll be comfortable there.”
“Yeah,” I reply quietly.
“I’ll… uh…” she stammers, her courage flagging. “See you in the morning.”
“All right.”
The door shuts in my face and fuck me if the sight of her tears and lush body doesn’t have my dick harder than it’s been in years. Even worse than that is the way my long dead heart clenches in my chest.