Chapter Fourteen #2
I nodded once.
“I can’t—what I just told you—I can’t—that,” she stammered, panting. I could see the panic taking over. Pushing off the couch, I closed the distance between us, taking her face in my hands. “Look at me,” I ordered.
She did.
“Take a deep breath and hold.”
She did that too, but my knees nearly buckled when her delicate, tattooed hands came to my sides, greedily taking hold of my shirt.
Clearing my throat, I counted to three and instructed her to release.
We did this exercise three more times before I got eye level with her, but I didn’t have to go far.
“You’re going to tell my team who hurt you and why,” I told her, my voice monotone.
“You don’t have to tell them about your parents, the shit your dad did to you, what he did around you, or what Gordon did to you. ”
“Then how—”
“You tell them you grew up in an abusive household, your younger brother fell victim to the generational curse you tried to break, and when you left, you ended up in an abusive relationship with Gordon, a drug dealer your brother was indebted to. That’s why he stole your money.
All my guys need is a motive and names. You give them that and Red Snake will get this sorted. ”
She jerked out of my hold. “Is that how you see everything I just told you?” Her chest was heaving and the air around us thickened.
“Talk to me,” I said. “Walk me through what’s going through your head.”
I could tell she was struggling to find words, to articulate what she was feeling, but whatever was swirling in her eyes was blinked away. Then she said, “No one at the bookstore can know.”
“Margo—”
“Carrie can never know,” she rasped.
“Why?”
“What do you mean why?” she snapped, the walls that she’d let down for me shooting back up, locking in place. “I don’t want her to know. Is that not a good enough reason?”
There was something deeper there, but I didn’t want to push her. Not after the day she’d had.
“And that’s okay, but you’re going to need to give Grayson a valid reason why he needs to keep this from his woman.
” My arms crossed again so I wouldn’t touch her.
I was so fucking proud of her for opening up to me, giving me a piece of her soul that she thought was broken.
And it was, but given the opportunity, I was ready to spend the rest of my days helping her heal.
But until that happened, I had to keep my distance, maintain the lie that would keep her safe, and not push her.
“Are you going to stand here and tell me that Grayson tells Carrie about all of his clients?” she quipped. “Do you tell all your partners about your work?”
No.
I’d only had one true partner since starting Red Snake with Gray, and she didn’t get access to that, no matter how much she begged.
“Temper, I have no fucking idea what Grayson tells her, but when said client is his fiancée’s best friend, the chances of him telling her are high,” I replied calmly.
She was pissed. “I don’t want people knowing about my past. I didn’t even want to tell you, but you kicked my fucking door down a few hours ago, and I figured I didn’t have a choice.”
She always had a choice. Those green eyes were glaring at me now, darkening with annoyance.
I tried to soften the blow. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Really? Because everything I just told you is nothing to be proud of,” she quipped. Before I could get a word out, she added, “And then you compartmentalized it—my entire fucking life—into a paragraph.”
The fuck? My jaw tightened. “Is that right?”
She threw her hand out. “I just laid my insides out for you on the table and you—Mr. Perfect Superman—took one look at it and—”
“And what?” I challenged, tilting my head to the side, my eyes narrowing.
“I didn’t compartmentalize anything you just told me, Temper.
I gave you an option, something to tell my guys that would be easier for you so you didn’t have to lay your guts out for them.
I watched you, and for the rest of my days, I will hold on to every word you just gave me.
I know how hard that was for you, and you did it, not only for yourself, but for me.
I asked you for mercy, and fuck me, baby, you gave it to me.
I don’t want you to relive that pain again tomorrow at the office.
I gave you an option, Margo. That’s all I did.
To keep what you just gave me between us,” I clipped.
My eyes dropped, watching her mouth open and close a few times.
“You—you—”
“Margo, what you’ve been through—what you experienced—is nothing to joke about or blow over,” I continued, my shoulders tight. “I’m fucking pissed that you would think that.”
Our gazes locked and we held on for some time, the clock in her kitchen slowly ticking as time passed us by.
“I’m going to bed,” she finally declared, breaking our stare and giving me her back.
“Right,” I muttered, pulling my eyes from her and grinding my teeth.
She left me with that, and I got to work making the couch up.
I didn’t need the sheets, but I knew Margo well enough that if I didn’t use them, she might smack me with a frying pan.
I pulled off my shirt, tossing it onto the arm of the couch before pulling back the covers, knowing damn well I wasn’t going to sleep.
Not after what she’d given me.
Not knowing she would be curled up in her lilac sheets with her dark locks splayed over her fucking pillow.
No, there would be no sleep for me tonight or tomorrow night. Hell, I wasn’t going to get a decent night’s sleep until I had her brother pinned to the wall, my hand around his neck, watching him squirm and beg for his life while Gordon bled out on the ground behind me, his blood soaking my boots.
“Hayes?”
My head snapped up. She was leaning against the wall, arms wrapped around herself, eyes on my bare chest. “Margo,” I called. Her eyes flicked up to mine, shining with tears. “What is it?” I demanded, my back straightening.
Her voice was soft, but heavy with regret. “I’m sorry.”
I jerked.
When I didn’t answer—I didn’t trust myself to, she croaked, “I was a bitch and I didn’t mean to be.
I just…you’re so perfect and I never expected any of this to happen.
I knew Marcus didn’t like me, but I never thought he would go this low.
” A single tear hit her cheek, trailing down the curve of it before falling off her jaw.
You’re so perfect.
Three words.
Fucking hell, this woman had no idea of the power she had over me.
She also had no idea how wrong she was.
“What your brother did has nothing to do with you,” I told her, needing her to get that above anything else. She didn’t need to waste another second of her life analyzing why he was a piece of shit. That was the path he’d chosen to take.
“I’m his older sister,” she rasped.
“His burdens don’t belong on your shoulders,” I returned, staying where I was. “You don’t get to put your name on his mistakes. That’s not your job.”
She sucked her plump bottom lip between her teeth, shifting her weight to her left foot. “Then what is my job?” she pushed out, her voice cracking. “I was supposed to protect him. I failed him.”
“He failed himself. You don’t get to carry this guilt. I won’t let you.” Her eyes met mine. “If I have to rip it out of your hands, I will,” I warned. “Your life is yours to live and his life is his. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“You don’t understand—”
“I have a younger sister. I understand more than you know.” Her beautiful lips opened, ready to argue, but I couldn’t let this go on. “It’s late,” I reminded her. “Thank you for the apology, but it wasn’t needed.”
“I was a bitch.”
“No, you were hurt. There’s nothing to apologize for,” I told her softly before jerking my chin to her bedroom. “Good night, Temper.”