17. Blood on My Hands
Chapter seventeen
Blood on My Hands
Kira
B link was okay with it? He was okay with me spending more time with Eoghan Green?
That was an incredible surprise. Blink had more access to classified information than I did. Where I was a pawn doing my part, he was a knight, with a far reach and a deep influence.
The moment he saw me run out of the gallery with Eoghan hard at my heels, he would have looked deeper into him. He was a thorough man, and if there was something to find about Eoghan, he would have found it. I had no doubt about that.
I wanted to see Eoghan again. I wasn’t sure when that would happen. He said he’d come after the gallery showing, but who the fuck knew when that would be? Would he meet me right after? Or would he meet me in the middle of the night? Or would he text at 2AM for a booty call after the kiss we had shared that morning? I wasn't sure.
Strangely enough, I didn’t think that would be what happened. Would a man who talked about Shakespeare and Greek mythology be so crass as to ask for a booty call? Maybe. He was a handsome, rich and powerful man in New York City. That was almost always a sign of a playboy.
But not Eoghan. I knew that somewhere deep in my gut. He was devoted.
I went back to work after my conversation with Blink. I had to start showing more paintings because that was my real job. Not the gallery itself, per se. But the selling. Jerry Vasali’s artwork was funding clandestine operations to fend off the global circulation of humans, guns and drugs. Our agents went in where INTERPOL, and alphabet agencies couldn’t. Untouchable organizations were brought down because of us.
In a world where the criminals have titles, power, and the full backing of an army of lawyers, standing up to them was dangerous. Not just for the person doing the standing, but for their families and loved ones.
That’s why Paradigm was created. It's why we were always under deep cover. People like me, who had no one left to live for, were their most valuable assets.
“This one is a painting about loss,” I said, looking at the gray and black canvas in front of me.
It wasn’t extraordinary. Nothing like the sketches that Eoghan had tossed out in the middle of his restless night. But I had to act like it was.
All I could think about were those black eyes, and how they saw me.
Eoghan had drawn me as a curly-haired maiden, with flowers and branches from the bowers bending down to lay themselves for my comfort in a wooded land. I had never seen, or thought of myself, as the woman in these paintings. I had never thought it was possible.
But there I was in page after page of sketches, as the Goddess, Muse and Queen in every depiction. Had he done all of that while I slept on his couch?
I felt a tingle in my stomach, a fluttering near my core, as I remembered that morning kiss. A kiss that I had started. A kiss he had accepted, until I ended it with pleas to get to work. I had begged to leave because I was scared.
More than anything, I knew that to do more than kiss - to fuck - would change the world as I knew it.
He was a devoted lover. I could tell.
He was the kind of man who made women beg for his attention. One hit wouldn't be enough. That was what really frightened me.
“Look at the strokes of aggressive white, on black. The contrast is a sign of…” I let my voice drone on about bullshit that I didn’t believe. Dilettantes. That’s what Eoghan called them. How right he was.
I needed them to open their wallets so that I could get a ten percent cut of what these idiots spent. To do that, I had to make them feel smart. I needed them to feel like they were getting a great deal on a million-dollar piece of fucking drivel.
Then, of course, I still had my own bills to pay. Fighting crime isn’t a particularly lucrative business. But at least I wasn’t taking out anymore loans.
That was the job, wasn’t it?
“If Miss Kekoa is selling it, then I’m buying!” An Irish voice rang clear from the back of the room. I turned away from the mediocre bit of modern art in front of me and stared out into the crowd.
I blushed, already knowing who it was, but couldn’t help but ask, “Who was that?”
“Miss Kekoa sold me a painting at a great discount.” The Irish voice continued from a distance. I couldn’t find him though. “I had it looked at and appraised. I could have made a small fortune if I chose to sell it!”
The crowd parted, and there he was. Eoghan fucking Green.
A red, angry line split the top of his cheekbone, jagged, and unclean. Like he had been in a knife fight.
“If she’s selling it, I’m buying. Here-” He brought the brochure up to his eyeline, as he scrawled something in pencil along the pages. “You!” He pointed the brochure at one of my black-clad colleagues, who was taking bids for the silent auction. “Here are my bids. I’m taking the lot, at the stated price.”
There was a gasp from the audience, and I rolled my eyes.
Just from him saying he was bidding at the starting price meant that there would be one person in the group who would try to out-bid him. They knew how much he was willing to pay, and they could beat him on the chopping block. It was a dirty ploy, but Eoghan was the kind of man other men wished they could beat. They wouldn’t. But maybe they could spend a little more money, and look a little bit richer because they got a piece of art that the infamous Mafia Prince couldn’t have.
In a single move, he had sold the entire collection for me.
I could play along. Try to sell it at even higher rates.
But what was that cut?
“Thank you, everyone,” I said, with a shrug. “It looks like the showing is over. Please, take your time and look at the beautiful work we have on display. It does seem like they’re all going to find a good home now, though.”
I stepped towards Eoghan, my hand outstretched toward his face as the grumbling crowd disappeared like the mist burned off by the midday sun.
“Eoghan, what happened?” I cupped his cheeks in my hands.
“Are you concerned for me, my sweet Muse?” He gave me a lopsided grin.
“No!” I retracted my hand as if his skin burned me, which only made him smile more. “But you can’t show up here with your bruised eye and blood dripping down your face. What will people think?”
“They’ll think that the gallery owner was a scrappy little fucker.” Another version of Eoghan materialized. It was like they were twins, apart from the difference in their eye color. Though, that wasn’t the only thing that set them apart.
Despite having the same yellow hair, and square jaw, there was something brighter about this other man. Like they were opposites of the same coin. A good twin, and a bad. “I’m Dairo Green.”
Dairo extended a hand to me, and I almost took it for a handshake, until Eoghan pushed his arm away. “Don’t get fresh with my woman!”
He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into him. That was when I caught a whiff of it. The scent of absinthe and sweat. Had he been in a bar fight?
“I’m not your woman.” I tried to squirm out of his hold, but he wouldn’t let me. He tightened his grip, placing a kiss on my temple. “Eoghan, I’m at work. Don’t!”
I tried to push him off, but he refused. His arm was like a vice, keeping me plastered to him.
“Please,” I hissed. “I don’t want people to talk.”
Eoghan rolled his eyes, but he let me go.
He was drunk. But it was a very different drunk from what he had been last night. This was… a happy drunk. A celebratory drunk.
“Come on,” I said, turning around to walk back into my office. “Let me get you cleaned up.”
A woman walked by, wearing a red Versace dress. She bit her lip, looking at both Dairo and Eoghan. Her hips swayed, her red lips up in an inviting smile. I bristled, as she didn’t even spare me a glance. Jealousy coiled up my guts. Why did I suddenly have the urge to hit a stranger?
“Come on,” I said again, grabbing Eoghan by the wrist, making a very public declaration.
He’s mine, bitch. Stay the fuck away!
The woman looked at me with a skeptical brow. She scanned me from head to toe, and rolled her eyes, completely unimpressed.
“Lead the way, love,” Eoghan said, wrapping an arm around my waist, and escalating my claim.
I took them down the hall and Dairo followed us close behind. I wanted to berate him for whatever he did to get bruised up again but refrained.
I took out my kit and prepped the tools to clean his wounds. The makeup, though... I had forgotten how I used to cover my bruises. With shaking hands, I grabbed it, threw it into the drawer and slammed it shut, hoping he didn’t see it.
“Are you going to tell me why you have a full fucking med kit in your office?” Eoghan leaned into me, tilting his head just a little, until our foreheads almost touched. “The first aid kit is just good preparedness, sure. But the cover up? You want to tell me who hurt you?”
Of course he would notice.
I took in a deep breath, my fingers trembled as I pressed the gauze against his cheek.
Memories of a loan shark, his goons. The way I had to dodge them on my way to work. The scarves, hats and sunglasses. The things I degraded myself to, just for a little more time to pay a debt that kept building interest. It was a terrible thing, to be poor.
My hands trembled as the memory of my second missed payment flooded my mind.
An office. An offer. Blood on my hands…
“A girl can’t be too careful,” I said, as I pulled the gauze away, seeing that the bleeding on his cheek had stopped.
Blood, dripping to the carpet off the blade of a gold letter opener. Blink’s voice, as he looked at the carnage.
“Hmm,” Eoghan grunted, low in chest. “One day, you’ll trust me with your secrets, love.”
He took my hand in his and placed a kiss on my palm. His warm breath against my fingers sent a shiver down my spine, as his soft lips seared through my skin. He held my hand to his lips with both hands, as if he was tasting the most delicious morsel of food.
I think it was the most intimate thing he could have ever done.