Chapter Thirty-Six
Dixon
For a minute, she just stares at me, wide-eyed and gorgeous. Then that stare becomes a kiss so deep it reaches down to the depths of my soul. Every bruise, every burn — it’s all worth it for that kiss. When she finally pulls back, she looks at me with an adoration that I can’t ever recall feeling for myself. What a fucking monumental thing love is.
“You have him?”
I nod, grinning. “We do.”
“Where is he? I want to talk to him.”
“He’s somewhere safe. Ghost is working on him,” I say. When it comes to Ghost and the things he does in interrogation, I keep my exposure to a minimum; I’ve heard rumors, and those rumors have been dark enough that I have no desire to see if they’re true, or if the reality is even worse. With Ghost, you never know. “When we have answers for you, you’ll know.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“Not good enough? Do you know the hell we went through to get this guy? He was prepared. There were fucking traps, Alexandra. We almost died.”
“Almost? My brother died. I want to look this asshole in the eye and make him talk.”
“Trust me, you don’t want to know what Ghost is doing to him right now.”
“What? Do you think I’m some innocent girl? I grew up in this life. I know what goes on in these things. Plus, I got the drop on you, and I was ready to kill you and dispose of your body in a way that could never be traced back to me. Thank you, podcasts. Let me talk to him.” Her voice writhes and surges like a living, furious thing, and I know that, if I let Alexandra in the same room with Erik Marquez, there’s a damn good chance she will kill him before we can get the information we need out of him.
“No. Not until he’s ready to confess.”
“What do you mean ‘no’?”
“Be patient. You have to trust me.”
“I trust you. But I’ve fucking earned this. I’ve suffered, Dixon. Every day for the last three years, there hasn’t been a moment where I haven’t felt my brother’s death. And now, when I can finally face someone who knows what happened, you’re going to take that away from me?”
I have to convince her to trust me, to be patient and allow Ghost to do his work, because Erik Marquez is a hardened, experienced killer, and Ghost may be the only man who can actually break him. I grab her by the shoulders and peer into her eyes, meeting the fury there with unwavering determination and love.
”Alexandra, I know the pain you’re carrying, because it’s a weight in my chest, too. But if we rush this — if you rush this — we risk everything. We risk not knowing. Not finding the full truth. Do you really want to come this far just to lose out on the truth?”
Her body is rigid under my hands, but I can sense something in her wanting to break. She just needs another push.
”I won”t let your brother”s memory down,” I say, softer now. My thumbs brush against the tops of her arms. ”I promise you that much. Please, let Ghost do his work.”
For an eternal moment, there is only us and the tension that stretches between our locked gazes. Then, at last, she lets out a shaky breath and nods sharply, once.
”Okay. But... when he”s done — when there are answers — I will be there in the room to hear them.”
”You will. I promise you.”
Slowly, her stance softens, and she leans her forehead against my shoulder. “I’m trusting you, Dixon. You know how much this means to me, all the years I’ve hurt for this. I’m trusting you.”
“I won’t let you down.”
After a moment and a nod, she smiles and kisses me. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I say. Suddenly, aware of just how much we both have been through in the last couple of days, I feel a rush of exhaustion roll through me. It must be evident on my face, because she gives me a tired smile as well, and nods. “You want to get back to my place?”
“Not right away. There’s something I want to do first.”
I feel myself tense, hoping she doesn’t want to return to talking about Erik Marquez. “What’s that?”
“I want to forget about all this for the rest of the night. I need to rest. Like, really rest. So how about you and me get some takeout and beers, and we see how far we can sink into your couch… Like, an actual Netflix and chill, but with only a ninety-nine percent chance of sex. Because, let’s be honest, you look good right now, even though my eyelids feel like they have lead weights on them. How’s that sound?”
“That sounds like just the answer I’m looking for.”