Chapter 11
I draw everything out. Every deal. Every hand. Every decision I make to either raise the stakes or to let it all go.
I intentionally make the pace of the game so agonizingly slow that if the width of my pocketbook were not so tempting, I doubt a single person at the table would have been at all sad when I announce I am done for the night.
Really, they do an admirable job pretending they aren’t ready to wring my neck. Truly a testament to what the human spirit can endure with the right motivation. And I have mine. Right where I want him.
Which, as it happens, is standing in front of me, slamming me up against the wall of the opposing building as soon as I’m within his reach. And now, I am right where I want to be, too. Finally.
I deserve more credit for my admirable patience as well, because I’d drawn this reunion out, too, delayed getting close until I was at my limit.
Even added an extra touch of suspense to the evening by meandering around out front with all the potential witnesses for a while before finally heading toward the alley.
Fairly assured by then that he’d be waiting with his well of patience bone dry.
Should I feel bad for antagonizing him the way I am? Probably. But when the results are this satisfying…who could fault me?
“There—there you are, wolf,” I say, the words coming out with somewhat of a wheeze due to the wind being knocked out of me.
In part by the solid wooden boards connecting with my back and in part by the abrupt reminder of how large Aiden is as he puts me against those wooden boards without much difficulty.
He is so very handsome, his furious features illuminated by the lantern light from the nearby street.
Warm amber eyes. Rich brown waves in his hair.
A short, scruffy beard that would feel so nice scraping across skin.
Devastatingly handsome, as they say. And I absolutely will be devastated if he doesn’t turn out to be who I think he is. I’m already so attached.
“Now we’re really…” I start, forced to try again after I look down to where he has his fists balled up in my coat. “Really getting closer.”
“To what?” he scoffs, anger radiating off him. “Your untimely demise?”
I shake my head, managing a smile as I say, “My favorite position.”
He searches my face momentarily before he catches my meaning, what appears to be color striking his cheekbones, and a thrill of excitement runs up my spine when I realize he is currently blushing.
Oh, this is going to be fun.
“Real cute,” Aiden mutters, his tone telling me that he doesn’t mean it in a complimentary way. Although I don’t think it’s too much of a weakness to hope he thinks I’m at least somewhat nice to look at.
“You’re crazier than I thought,” he continues, his voice menacingly low. “Here I was telling myself that you would have already left town.”
I frown, genuinely confused. “Why would I do that?”
“Why?” he asks through gritted teeth. “You fuckin’ robbed me.”
“Ah, that.” Despite the somewhat violent nature of our greeting, I’ve kept my hands raised throughout our conversation, nowhere near his pockets, and I glance at them to make sure he’s noticed. “In my defense, you did call me a thief.”
“And clearly, I was right to.”
“But would I have robbed you if you hadn’t called me a thief?” I ask, giving him the best shrug I can manage with my movements so constricted. “There is a question that will keep you up at night.”
“Already have plenty of things to keep me up at night,” he snarls back. “Not going to let you be one of them.”
“We’ll see.” I cock my head. “But since we’re on the subject, what does keep you up at night? Anyone I should be concerned about?”
He only stares at me in response, seemingly unable to comprehend why I would ask him that question. To be fair, I can’t really comprehend it either beyond the fact that I have a burning desire to learn everything about any topic that centers around him.
“Too forward? Are we not at that stage yet either?”
Aiden grips my coat tighter, yanking me forward for a moment before shoving me back.
I hit the wall again with a solid thud, and I hope whatever business is next to the saloon doesn’t operate at night.
Or at least has customers that know better than to stick their noses into the affairs of those that do. I’d hate to be interrupted.
Unfortunately, Aiden seems to have the same concern, and in a needless attempt to prevent my escape, he places the wide palm of his left hand against my chest to keep me pinned, his now-free right hand pulling a knife from his belt.
The small blade glints in that same low lantern light as he brings it up close to me, and that’s all it takes for him to no longer be the only thing keeping me trapped.
“You done?” he asks as my focus remains fixed on the knife, my hands instinctively gripping the arm he has keeping me in place, my fingertips pressing hard into the bare skin beneath his rolled-up sleeves. “You have it all out of your system?”
I shake my head, trying to pull my gaze away from the sharp edge before it can pull me away instead. To another place. To another time. To a dark, windowless room where I had never felt so alone. Until I wasn’t. “Far from it.”
“Figured as much,” Aiden replies, and he presses the cool metal into the space just below my jaw. “How about now? How about, instead of running your mouth and wasting more of my time, you go ahead and tell me what you’re up to? Why did you say you were looking for me?”
I wonder if he can feel it. How rapid my pulse has gotten. Can he feel it racing in my chest through my clothes, feel it racing in my throat through the blade? I have no choice but to believe he can.
“Come on, don’t go quiet on me now,” Aiden pushes, pressing the knife in a little more. A little more. A little more. Knocking the wind out of me again. “And don’t bother trying to come up with some lie. I already know you’re conning those men in there.”
“And if I am?” My voice is shaking, though I try to hide it with a laugh. “Why would you care? You’re not one of them.”
I’m not sure if I say it for him or for me. I’m not sure who needs the reminder more. He’s not. He’s not one of them.
He’s not going to hurt me.
“You’re right. I’m not,” he says, and I wonder if he can now feel my heart rate slowing with his acknowledgement.
“I’m not like them.” He leans closer, his voice dropping into an even lower register that seems to cozy up to every dangerous thought inside my head. “I’m way worse. Especially for you.”
“Oh, I’m quite positive that’s not the case.”
“You really think it’s smart to aggravate me right now? To insult me?” he asks, looming over me in an attempt at a threat, and it would probably be a very good one. On anyone else.
Rather than escalating my fear, my fingers loosen their grip around his forearm now that he’s closer, and I must have been holding on tighter than I realized because even in the flickering light, I can see the blood-red indents my nails left in his skin.
Unlikely to be permanent, but judging by the way he doesn’t even look at them, would he mind if they were? Would he mind the marks that are permanent on me?
“You think I’m insulting you?” I ask, repeating part of his question as my eyes remain locked on his. “While you’ve got a knife to my throat?”
He nods, still crowding into me, still pressing enough that one wrong move would have me bleeding. I grin. “Afraid only compliments come to mind.”
Similar to earlier, the suggestion has the deeply satisfying effect of making him flustered, so much so that he actually steps back, and it requires all my remaining shreds of self-control not to chase him when he does.
“Christ,” he mutters, eyeing me from the opposite side of the alley. “The fuck is wrong with you?”
“A combination of things,” I say, doing my best to smooth out my rumpled clothes without having much success. “If you’re going to try your fists next, you should know I tend to favor my left side. Gives me an advantage more often than you might think.”
I look back up, only to see Aiden is now staring at the ground, shaking his head as he kneads the back of his neck with his hand. I could almost swear he’s trying not to laugh.
“Are you some kind of punishment?” he asks finally, when he has composed himself. “Some sort of retribution?”
“Why?” I ask him, curious why this would be his assumption. “What have you done?”
He shakes his head once more. “Oh…a combination of things.”
I grin, hearing my words directed back at me, and my only intention is to extend this special moment following his threats against my life when I say, “I believe it.” However, his shoulders fall, telling me he doesn’t hear it the way I meant it. Hears it instead as a censure.
“Ah,” I say, the realization dawning. “You’re religious.”
His head whips back up. “What?”
“You’re religious. Makes sense.”
His eyes narrow. “What makes sense?”
“You seem somewhat…” I take him in head to toe, thinking about the earlier blushing as well as how his entire body is currently coiled tight.
“Repressed?” Unable to help myself, I also ask, “Catholic?” His jaw ticks as I seemingly strike his own vulnerability, similar to how he had unknowingly just struck mine. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“You can take it however you want.”
My eyebrows rise.
“Look,” he says, really seeming ready to take a swing at me. “I’m not here to discuss morals with the man who robbed me in this same fucking alley last night.”
“Aren’t you supposed to, though?” I counter.
“Aren’t I supposed to what?” he responds, fatigue and irritation warring in his voice.
“Aren’t you supposed to try? To save my soul? Lead me down the path of righteousness? Bring me to my knees?” I offer, hoping that last option will appeal to him as much as it does to me. “Isn’t that your calling? As a good Catholic?”
Aiden scoffs, folding his arms across his chest. “Afraid you’re going to have to find God on your own.”
“Ah.” I watch closely for his reaction as I suggest, “But it’s so much more enjoyable with a partner. Sometimes even more than one.”
His mouth actually falls open a bit, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to the point of bloodshed to keep my expression neutral.
After a prolonged moment, Aiden starts to say something, thinks better of it, then closes his mouth before trying again.
“Would you just give me my watch so I can leave? And, God willing, never see you again?”
“All right,” I say easily even as his words sting, sticking my hands in my pockets and checking the contents as I walk closer. “I am sorry, by the way. About your watch. It was wrong of me to take it.”
“You’re sorry?” He stares at me, clearly surprised by my quick agreement and likely struggling to come up with anything to say back that would be appropriate for polite company. “All that and you’re sorry?”
“Yes.” I continue to watch him, weighing the two options in my pockets the closer I get. “Are you sentimental over it? The watch?”
“Am I sentimental over it?” he asks, repeating my words again, since he still seems to be at a loss for his own. “Don’t you think it’s a little late to be asking if I’m sentimental over something you took?”
“You really don’t like to answer direct questions, do you?” I push, needing more to go on.
“Probably about as much as you like to provide direct answers.”
“Oh, trust me, I would prefer nothing more than to be direct with you.” I’m standing in front of him now, little more than a foot of space between us. “Does that watch mean something to you? Is that why you still had it even though it’s broken?”
“Notice that, did you?” he asks, not bothering to put space between us once more. “Before or after you tried to sell it?”
“I didn’t try to sell it,” I correct, wanting us to understand each other on this front at least. “It was never my intention to profit off you.”
“Sure,” he says, disbelief evident and, frankly, unsurprising given the people he’s riding with. Which is why I remind myself to be patient before opening my mouth to argue. I’ve waited this long. I can wait longer.
“Did someone give it to you?” I ask, a slight pain in my chest when I also suggest, “Perhaps a loved one?”
At the question, there’s a sadness in his eyes that even the dark can’t hide, but he covers it quickly. “Would it matter?”
“Yes,” I say, suddenly desperate to know despite just telling myself to be patient. “If it holds special significance…if it’s special to you—”
“I got it from a trader in Sante Fe two years ago,” he interrupts, starting to turn away. “Wasn’t worth what I paid for it then and it certainly isn’t worth all this, so I tell you what, why don’t you just keep it?”
“If it wasn’t worth it,” I ask, barely containing the urge to follow him as he gets closer to the street, “why buy it in the first place?”
“Because I wanted a watch like that.”
“Why did you—”
“To track the fuckin’ time,” he snaps, pivoting to face me at the mouth of the alley.
“I wanted a watch, and that’s what I could afford.
” He lifts his hat, tugging at the strands, the same tell he had back in the saloon.
In the stable. “Not all of us just take what we want. That direct enough for you?”
Before I am able to answer, he’s already gone.