Chapter 22 #2
My smile died almost as quickly as it appeared.
Vivienne didn’t have the luxury of going on walks to escape being watched.
Did she get any reprieve from it, short of spa days and Lamaze classes?
Were bathroom breaks the only chance she got to be truly alone?
If I believed the security camera footage was only for her and Charles to view, it wouldn’t be as invasive. But I didn’t.
“I know.” Colt sighed, his dark eyes flicking toward a neighboring house when their dog started barking at us through the fence. “It complicates things a bit, but we’ll find a workaround.”
He sounded like he was convincing himself as much as me.
“Every system has a weakness,” I agreed carefully.
“ But ?” he prodded, catching on immediately to what I wasn’t saying.
“But . . .” I sighed and gave one of my stray curls a nervous tug. I hadn’t dared bring up my hunch again since Colt reminded me about the nature of our assignment. But something about this whole situation with the Gauthiers felt off. “Did you notice how different they were tonight?”
His eyebrows pulled together, and he raised his voice enough to be heard over the dog as we passed its yard.
“When they conveniently avoided all the topics we need to know about, or when they steered us past the stairs to the basement and pretended they didn’t exist?
Because that still seems pretty on-par with how they were during our lunch date. ”
Right. The only exposure he had to them when they weren’t shadowed by the gangs’ muscle was during Lamaze class. That didn’t allow for a lot of data to pull from.
I shook my head, tracing the path of a car as it cruised through the intersection ahead. “No, I mean like how they were so on-edge in their own home. That’s weird, right?”
Colt hummed thoughtfully. “I did notice that. But, again, that isn’t unusual for them. And, knowing what we know about Charles’ paranoia and extreme caution toward outsiders, it would make sense for them to have their guard up the first time they’ve invited someone new to their home.”
“I guess,” I mumbled.
Logically, that explanation made sense. What did I have to back up my hunch, anyway—quick micro-glances Vivienne made toward the cameras and an itch at the base of my skull insisting something wasn’t right? Good luck explaining that to McBride.
And yet, the itch wouldn’t subside.
Colt stopped a few yards before the intersection and turned to face me. His lips were pursed in his “contemplative” face, his eyes dark as espresso in the fading light. “You don’t agree.”
It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact.
I looked away, unable to hold his all-seeing gaze. “It felt like a prison in there, Colt. Not just for us, but for them, too. At the very least, Vivienne isn’t a fan of all the cameras.”
He didn’t reply immediately, either considering my words or questioning my sanity. Or both. Another car passed, this one turning onto our street. The scent of freshly mowed grass came from the yard we’d stopped in front of.
When I finally braved looking at him again, I found him staring into the distance, back toward our house. When he spoke, it was completely neutral. Another statement.
“You still believe he’s being coerced.”
“I think it’s a possibility we shouldn’t ignore,” I corrected.
“And what if he is, Lex?” Colt met my eyes, his brow furrowed and his shoulders tense. Still, his voice was quiet. “What can we realistically do about it? That doesn’t change the fact that he’s breaking the law, and without proof that it’s against his will, what can we do?”
“Make a deal with him?”
Colt’s expression darkened. “And how do you suggest we offer that to him? Pull him aside during Lamaze class and expose ourselves with no extraction plan and hope that your hunch is right and he won’t immediately retaliate to save his own skin?”
My temper flared. Sure, when he put it that way, it sounded pretty far-fetched. Insane, even. But what if Charles jumped at the offer for a better life for his family? It was an astronomical risk to take, but the odds weren’t impossible.
“We don’t have a better plan at the moment,” I gritted out, trying and failing to keep a lid on my emotions.
“Which is no reason to go risking our necks willy nilly?—”
“I know that!” I growled in frustration, freeing my hand from his to pull it through my hair and pace the nervous energy out. “Contrary to what you might think, I’m not a complete rookie. I may not plan as extensively as you do, but I don’t run into battle with a blindfold on, either.”
One of his perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose.
“No. That.” I pointed at the offending brow. “Don’t do that. Don’t doubt me like that. Not so openly.” My voice cracked embarrassingly. “Not now.”
I squeezed my eyes shut as tears stung the backs of them. Stupid hormones. I might not be pregnant for real, but my endocrine system sure seemed willing to give it its best go regardless.
How was it that we’d only lasted five—admittedly wonderful—days before reverting to butting heads?
Was this all we were destined for if we gave a relationship a real, honest-to-goodness try?
Was I setting myself up for heartache? Because falling in love with him seemed inevitable if I wasn’t careful.
But if constantly being at odds with each other was also inevitable, then that meant losing myself to heartbreak was, too.
I wiped my expression clear and emotionless before opening my eyes. As I did, Colt’s jaw flexed in irritation, his expression hardening.
“And you, don’t do that,” he grumbled, so low and throaty it was nearly a growl.
I stared at him blankly, struggling to retain control over my facial expression, or lack thereof. This was the most emotion I’d seen from him since he’d learned about Liam propositioning me.
“Do what?”
“That.” He gestured at my face, the action tight and snappy.
“Don’t shut me out. Like we’re back at the field office, like you’re in ‘unfazeable Lex’ mode.
Like—” He huffed out a breath, sounding eerily like another growl, and put his hands on his hips.
He looked away, the fading light illuminating the stone-like tension in his features.
“Like you’re killing a part of you before anyone else can do it first.”
Was that what he thought I did—kill the part of me that feels? Smooth over the bumpy bits that were my humanity? All because if I did it first, no one else would have the chance to. After all, no one could strike a target that wasn’t there. Nobody could read a book with no pages.
Never mind the fact that it cost you ripping them out to get to that point.
“I’m compartmentalizing,” I argued.
The half-truth fell flat, even to my delusional ears. At the field office that may be the case most of the time. Remaining unreadable helped more often than not while working. Interrogating. But that wasn’t the full reason I did it.
“You’re hiding .” Another car passed, and he spared it a passing glance, waiting until the sound of its engine had faded before continuing. “And I get that sometimes you need to for safety’s sake, especially in our line of work. But not with me.” He met my eyes. “Never with me.”
Guilt churned in my gut. Acid eating through all my defenses and excuses. We’d agreed not to pretend with each other anymore, and I’d thought it only pertained to our covers versus our real selves. But wasn’t I pretending right now? Pretending I wasn’t hurt or worried or vulnerable.
Because if I killed those parts of me first, he couldn’t hurt me.
I huffed softly, watching the house across the street as the neighbors’ shadows moved across it. Continuing with their evening blissfully oblivious while I had my flaws dissected and labeled on the side of the road.
“You’re not exactly an open book either, Colt. This is the most emotion I’ve seen from you all month. Almost the entire time I’ve known you, even.” I smiled sadly. “Maybe I just want to be more like you.”
It was a bit of a low blow, considering I’d mastered my mask of neutrality long before transferring to Detroit, but it wasn’t completely false, either.
There were many things about Colt I wanted to emulate.
His punctuality. Preparedness. Organization and wit and, yes, self-control.
The thing was, he didn’t need to consciously wipe emotions away.
He simply just… barely showed them in the first place.
A flicker of pain crossed his features before it, too, was swept away. If all I got were ripples like that, it was no wonder I’d misjudged him for so long.
“We’ll probably never agree about what to do with the Gauthiers.
But if this” —I gestured between us— “is going to work, we have to be open with each other. We don’t have to emote the same way or anything, but our communication will have to compensate.
” I met his eyes, wishing the sun hadn’t set so quickly so I could see his miniscule tells better. “Something has to give.”
He nodded slowly, his features cast in shades of dusky gray as twilight descended. “Something has to give.”
The rest of our walk was unusually silent after that. As much as I tried to convince myself we were simply lost in our own thoughts, another unshakable itch took up residence inside me—the bottom of my stomach this time.
The smoke of this disagreement may have cleared for now, but our locked horns created sparks when we butted heads, and the fire it had started was far from out.
I just didn’t know whether it was a fire that would warm me or swallow me whole.