Isaiah #2
“I think his hands are tied too. He wants to know who killed his man. That’s the same guy we’re looking for. We’re not stopping. Neither will he.”
Fuck. Would this ever go away?
At least twice a week I woke from that damned repeat nightmare. Genevieve was in her car in the passenger seat. The grill of a truck was smashed against the broken glass of her window. Her eyes were lifeless and blood oozed from her mouth.
Would that be her fate? Would she die too if she stayed here? Enough was enough. It was time to free her from this shit and let her get on with her life.
The best place for Genevieve was far, far away from me. She wouldn’t leave willingly, not until she knew I was out of danger. Maybe if we found the man who killed her mother, we’d be able to convince the Warriors he’d also killed their man. Then she’d be safe to leave too.
I’d help her go through her mother’s things and pray we found a clue.
“Do you think it’s worth me digging through Amina’s finances again?” Emmett asked Dash.
“Again?” Genevieve asked before Dash could answer. “Do I even want to know how you can do that?”
“Probably not.” Emmett shrugged. “I didn’t find anything the first time. Might be worth a second look.”
Genevieve stood from her chair, taking her scarf and purse. “I’ll let you guys know if I find anything.”
She was out the door before anyone could respond. There was a sheen of tears in her eyes.
“Do you need me the rest of the day?” I asked Dash. “The job board is clear. I was just cleaning up.”
“Nah, go ahead. It’s dead. I’ll finish up.”
“Thanks.” I went back into the shop, unzipping my coveralls and stripping them down to hang on a hook for tomorrow. Then I went to the sink and scrubbed my hands, doing my best to get the grease off.
My cuticles were cracked, the tips of my fingers raw.
They were normally rough but the air this time of year was so dry, I took extra care.
Presley had put a bottle of lotion next to the sink for us to use and I slathered some on, dug my ring from my pocket and slid it on, then ventured upstairs to the apartment.
Genevieve was on the couch when I walked into the apartment. Her knees were pulled up to her chest. Her arms were wrapped around them, hugging them tight.
“You okay?”
“Fine.”
She wouldn’t be fine until this was over.
I kicked off my boots, stacking them on the mat so the snow wouldn’t follow me into the apartment. Then I crossed the room, taking a seat on the couch beside her, one cushion away.
“Why didn’t you tell me about your research?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Because there wasn’t anything to tell. And it was something I could do on my own. I just needed . . . I needed to try.”
It made sense now why she’d been so frustrated. She’d been searching for clues and coming up empty at every turn.
“I’ve been thinking about something.” I ran a hand over my jaw, loosening it. I’d been thinking about this for weeks, but the words were like molasses.
“What?”
“As soon as the trial is over, once we know what will happen with Draven . . .” I blew out a deep breath. “I think you should go.”
“Go?” She blinked. “Go where?”
“Away. Get out of this town. Get out of this life.”
“What?” She let go of her legs and turned to face me. “What about you?”
“I’ll be fine.” And if I wasn’t, it wouldn’t be her problem anymore. “The cops didn’t find anything. I doubt they will. They probably aren’t even looking.”
“And the Warriors?”
“If they decide to retaliate, it would be best if you were already long gone.”
Her mouth fell open. “So . . . we just call it quits?”
“Yeah.”
She stared at me for a long moment. The surprise on her face faded. Her shoulders fell. “Am I that hard to be around?”
“The truth?” I swallowed hard. “Yes.”
She flinched.
It was unbearable to be around her, knowing she’d eventually leave. It was exhausting to keep her at arm’s length when all I wanted to do was hold her close.
“We never should have started this,” I whispered.
Genevieve pushed off the couch and marched for the bathroom. The door slammed, its boom shaking the walls.
I dropped my head to the back of the couch. Done. It’s done.
And I was a bastard for hurting her.
There was a small spot on the ceiling Genevieve had missed when painting. It was no bigger than a dime, but the off-white of the old paint showed if you caught it from this angle. She’d fix it if she knew, but I wouldn’t say a word. I wanted that spot to remember the months we’d spent together.
Genevieve might be upset now, but she’d see this was the right call. Eventually, she’d be relieved that my shackle was no longer around her ankle.
The bathroom door whipped open and the wounded Genevieve who’d been on the couch had disappeared. She pounded across the apartment in her bare feet, stopping right in front of me. “What’s the real reason you’re doing this?”
“It’ll be better if we end this now.”
“I don’t believe you.” She held her chin high.
“I have opened up my heart to you. I’ve told you everything about my mom.
About how I’m really feeling. I laid it all out there.
I cut myself open and let you see the ugly mess inside.
You’re the one person in the world who gets the real me. Why can’t I have that from you?”
I stared up at her beautiful, flushed face and stayed quiet. Silence was my armor. Because if I cut myself open, I’d never be able to sew the wounds shut.
“That’s it?” she whispered. “Isaiah, I want to help. I want to be there for you like you are for me. But you have to talk about the accident. If not with me, then someone. I see this guilt. This pain in your eyes and it kills—”
“Who told you about the accident? Or did you look it up?”
She blinked. Her face paled.
“Did you?” I demanded, louder this time.
“No. I didn’t look it up. I-I was—”
I was off the couch in a flash, my heart pounding. The movement forced her to take two steps back. “Someone told you. Who? Was it Mom? Because she had no right.”
“She didn’t tell me anything.” Genevieve held up her hands. “I overheard her and Piper at Thanksgiving. I shouldn’t have eavesdr—”
“No, you shouldn’t have. That’s none of your fucking business. That’s between me and my family.”
“Then don’t take me to meet your family,” she yelled. “Don’t blame them for assuming you’d tell your wife about your fiancée. That you were going to have a baby. That she died in an accident and you’re blaming yourself.”
She had it all wrong. She saw me as a tragedy. No, I was a killer. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Exactly!” She threw her hands into the air. “I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m talking about because you—” She poked a finger in my chest hard enough to leave a red mark. “You don’t tell me anything.”
I clamped my mouth shut.
Her nostrils flared as she did the same.
We stood there in a soundless standoff. If she was expecting me to talk, she had to know I wouldn’t—couldn’t.
Finally, her fuming breaths slowed. Her furious gaze chilled. “You’re right. What am I doing here? It doesn’t even matter. I was wrong about the law.”
“What? Say that again.”
“The law. I was wrong. Montana doesn’t have testimonial privilege like I assumed, which means this marriage was doomed from the start.”
My head was spinning. Was she saying that we didn’t have to get married? That it wouldn’t protect us? How long had she known?
Why had she stayed?
“Slow down, I—”
“So you’re right.” Genevieve huffed. “We’re strangers. I call you my husband. You call me your wife. But we’re strangers. Hell, you even cringe when I kiss you.”
This woman was making no sense. I didn’t cringe when I kissed her. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about this.” She took my face in her hands, pulling me down for a kiss.
The softness of her lips, her subtle taste—I tensed.
I always tensed.
It was the only way to hold myself back.
She let me go and pointed at my face. “There. That. You look like you’re about ready to crawl out of your skin because I kissed you. And you know what? I hate you for it. I hate you for it. Because I look forward to every single one of those pretend kisses even though you look like—”
I crushed her lips to mine. I wound my arms around her back and hauled her to my chest. I ran my tongue across her bottom lip. I moaned into her mouth as she let me dip inside for a taste. I kissed her the way I’d wanted to kiss her for months.
Genevieve had the power to destroy me completely. My life would be in ruins when she walked away. This kiss wouldn’t change the future.
I shoved those thoughts away.
And I kissed my wife.