16. Scarlet
SCARLET
Something was different, and I had the feeling I understood what it was.
Being stuck in a suite, even one as luxurious as the one I was sort of trapped in, gave me nothing to do but keep up with the news.
Gangland violence was the big ongoing story, and the media was eating it up with a spoon.
Bodies were popping up right and left, and all of them belonged to men who were associated with various crime families.
I couldn’t help but look for Dominic’s name every time one of those stories came up.
Was it wrong, hoping I would find out he was dead?
Maybe, but I couldn’t bring myself to be sorry.
Each time my conscience so much as threatened to bother me a little, I remembered every bruise I ever had to cover with makeup, and that was if he let me out of the house at all, which wasn’t always the case.
I always had to tiptoe around him for fear of what might set him off.
There was never any telling what it would be, what might offend him this time.
And, of course, there was the whole bit where I had to stay locked in a hotel suite for fear of what would happen if he found me, knowing he would want to make good on all of his promises of punishing me if I ever left him.
No, all things considered, I couldn’t bring myself to feel sorry for wanting him dead, especially when I knew how he broke Grayson’s heart by killing Jack.
The only thing I ever had to look forward to was seeing Grayson in the morning and at the end of the day. Otherwise, all I did was kill time.
Nova visited when she could, and we would sit and chat over coffee.
She told me more about her recent past, including the case against her dad.
It was funny, but I’d never imagined somebody who grew up the way she had—pampered, indulged, highly educated—knowing the same sort of desperation I did.
She had feared for her life after finding out her dad was making money through human trafficking.
Her own father, and she’d been afraid of what he would do to her.
“Are you sure you have the time to do this?” I asked her after two weeks at the hotel as she was leaving to get back to work, and I reminded myself not to be too clingy or demanding even though I hated seeing her leave. “I feel bad for taking up your time.”
“Are you kidding? It’s a treat having a girl to talk to. I mean, I love Vaughn,” she said with a laugh. “But there’s too much testosterone around this place.”
“You’re sure it’s not because Grayson asked you to keep me company?”
She grimaced, shrugging helplessly. Bullseye. “I’ve been asked for much bigger favors. This has become my favorite part of the day, sitting and chatting with you.”
I really wanted to believe that. It was nice having something to look forward to besides Grayson’s arrival, especially when he was always so clearly distracted.
Most nights, I was asleep by the time he got in, stirring when he slid into bed, falling back to sleep once I knew he was safe for the night.
Most mornings the past week, he’d been gone by the time I woke up.
It didn’t take long for natural questions to surface. How many of these news stories were connected to him? Was he the person behind these killings, either directly or otherwise? If he was, how did I feel about it? How did I feel about him?
After a week of him being a little more than a ghost, I decided to wait for him to make it back to the suite. It was time to ask the tough questions, no matter how much I dreaded the answers. They couldn’t be worse than what I had already dreamed up in my head.
I even took a nap to ensure I wasn’t too sleepy later.
He tended to come in past midnight, and weeks of no longer working the overnight shift meant my internal clock was all messed up.
Luckily, I was used to bouncing back after a nap, something I used to do to make sure I could live through a shift.
That meant being able to sit up reading in bed, wide awake by the time the suite door opened and closed almost silently.
I wouldn’t have heard it if I were asleep.
Right away, his footfalls slowed down as he approached the bedroom.
He wasn’t expecting to see the light burning at twelve thirty when I was usually asleep by now.
I waited as patiently as I could, staring at my tablet without seeing a word in front of me, barely breathing as the tension unfurled.
What will he do? Does he dread seeing me? And why would he, if he did?
Finally, he appeared in the doorway, and something about his posture made my skin prickle.
There was something off. Maybe it was the way he jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his broad shoulders up around his ears as he scanned the room.
“Everything all right?” he finally grunted, lingering in the doorway.
Even now, filled with apprehension, my heart softened at the sight of him—the concern on his face, the fatigue etched at the corners of his mouth and around his eyes that searched mine, eyes that undid me and made me want to beg him to open up.
He had done it before, a little at a time. I thought he was starting to trust me.
Why was there this wall between us now?
Would he give me a straight answer, even if I begged for one?
Setting the tablet aside, I replied, “Everything’s fine. I thought I would wait up for you tonight.”
A shadow passed over his face before he headed for the bathroom.
“You shouldn’t do that.” His voice was flat, almost cold.
It had the power to chill my blood and make me wish I hadn’t stayed up after all.
What did I expect? For him to be glad to see me?
He used to seem glad. What the hell had changed?
I argued with myself for a few seconds before throwing back the duvet and getting out of bed, following him to the bathroom. He hadn’t closed the door. When he noticed me coming, he tried to kick it shut with his foot.
Too late. I caught it, held it open, saw the rust-colored stains he was washing from his hands. “Is that blood?” I asked, though I knew the answer.
He didn’t bother lying. “Yes. It’s blood.”
“Whose blood?”
“Does it matter?” He worked efficiently, rapidly rubbing his hands together, steam rising from the basin. I couldn’t tear my gaze away even as my dread grew. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen blood on his hands.
“I hope you’re not taking risks out there,” I whispered, shivering as I remembered that horrible night. He and I were strangers then, and we had returned to that dynamic. He may as well have been on the moon. He felt that far away from me now.
And it’s your own damn fault for caring too much in the first place.
I knew it was wrong, didn’t I? Knew he was the last man I should ever fall for.
I couldn’t repeat Mom’s mistakes. At least she had an excuse—she couldn’t help herself, she never had been able to.
I, on the other hand, was supposed to know better. There was nobody to blame but myself.
“I’m doing what I have to do.” He kept washing long after his skin looked clean, his back rising and falling under his T-shirt with every sharp breath. Was he doing it to be extra careful, or did he want to avoid looking at me? Why wouldn’t he look at me?
“And what is that? What do you need to do?”
“You know better than to ask me that.”
There were a lot of things I should have known better than. It was a little too late to think about that now, with my heart in my throat, hanging on his every word. “Do you know anything about all these killings and shootings and stuff that are going on lately?” I blurted out.
He was good at holding things inside, but he wasn’t perfect. The question caught him off guard, making him flinch, and I released a long breath. It was one thing to suspect, but knowing was a whole other issue.
He finally turned off the water and dried his hands on a nearby towel, lifting his stony gaze. “What do you want me to say?” He shrugged. “I told you. All of the good in me is gone. I don’t know if it ever existed or if I let myself get fooled into thinking it did.”
“You’re not giving yourself a chance.”
“Tell that to the guy whose face I just caved in with my fists tonight.” There was something unbearably nasty about the way he said it.
He wasn’t bragging, nothing like that. It was more like the tone he took with me the night he found out about Jack.
“Aren’t you glad you know?” or whatever it was he said. It was the same thing here.
Stiffening my spine, I told him exactly what I’d been telling myself for days. “You’re doing what you have to do. It’s not like you go around doing this for fun.”
He only snickered. “How do you know?”
I refused to believe he meant it. He was pushing me away like he tried to back at the cabin. That was why he kept coming in late, avoiding me. It was this strange sense of heroism that meant he had to hold me at a distance when all I wanted was to help him in any way I could.
All I wanted was him, no matter whether he thought it was right or wrong.
I could see straight through him, and if I didn’t think he’d be furious, I would have told him so. My heart knew I wasn’t tricking myself, determined to believe a fantasy. Jack wasn’t the only person who saw Grayson for who he truly was. If only he could see himself so clearly.
He dropped the hand towel he was using, narrowing his eyes.
“I mean it. How do you know? How do you know this isn’t exactly what I like to do?
” Taking one slow step after another, like an animal stalking his prey, he closed the distance between us.
No matter how my pulse raced or how the deadly look in his eyes made me shiver, I stood my ground until his heavy-soled boots almost touched my toes.