The cheap plastic seat groaned a bit as El moved across it and sat, elbows on the table, head resting on her hands as she sat in silence.
I dipped my spoon in the ice cream, then dug the edge into the crust of the apple pie and lifted it to my mouth.
A vacuum cleaner sounded in the distance.
A mom’s laughter.
A baby screaming.
Life just existed around us, as if it had a right to continue right the hell along — as if people like me weren’t fighting like hell to stay alive to stay safe.
To stay sane.
I was down to two more bites.
I looked up, ready to offer my pie as a peace offering, when El scrunched up her nose like the look of ice cream was personally offensive. “I didn’t take you for a vanilla kind of guy.”
“Oh?” I licked my spoon. She swallowed and looked away, her hands twisting the paper napkin over and over again like it was the only thing that gave her comfort, ripping paper to shreds. I studied the angles of her face, the way her bow lips pressed together, her dark rimmed eyes like she’d lined them with coal. The way her eyelashes fanned across her high cheekbones. The same cheekbones that had been bruised the first day I saw her.
Beyond fucking recognition.
Money got you good doctors.
Which meant she didn’t have any scars.
And sometimes I wondered if she’d rather have the scars on her face to match the ones he’d left on the inside.
“What flavor?” I finally asked.
She jerked her head back in my direction, her lips parted. “Wh-what?”
I licked the back of the spoon slowly and felt myself grin at her pink cheeks and the fact that my tongue sure has hell put that color there. “What flavor of ice cream?”
“Oh.” She bit down on her bottom lip sucking it in a bit before she frowned and shrugged. “I had you as a Rocky Road kinda guy.”
“Because I like to fight?” I guessed. “Like Rocky?”
She pressed her lips together in an amused smile. “No, because it seems like you only ever choose the hard way to do things. The rocky way. Road less traveled.”
I jerked back, my body hitting the fake plastic leather. “Same could be said of you.”
Her smile fell. “Believe me. Nobody would choose my path unless they were forced to.”
“Were you?” It was out before I could bite my tongue. “Did you go… willingly?”
She snorted and dropped the napkin onto the table, crossing her arms in that protective way she did when she was cornered. “Does it matter?”
“I think it does,” I said in the softest voice I possessed, which still sounded like someone had grated my voice box over nails. “It matters.”
She leaned forward and grabbed the spoon right out of my hand and dipped it into the melting ice cream. “Never. I never went to him willingly.”
The spoon touched her mouth then slid inside.
I groaned and found myself cupping her chin. “Good girl.” I tilted her chin closer. “Always make them pay. Always.”
“Them?”
“Anyone stupid enough to fucking touch you without permission.” I released her and nodded toward the ice cream. “So, how was it?”
“Very… vanilla.” She laughed and then laughed a little harder. “I think I’d like Rocky Road better.”
Yeah, that made two of us.
I dropped a twenty on the table and stood. “You still down to cover for me?”
“On one condition.” She looked like she was bracing for a fight from the way she put her hands on her hips to the way she held her head. “I get to come with you.”
“Hell no.” I laughed. “It could be a trap. I could die.”
“Then I die too.” She said it so matter of fact, so… prettily with her soft voice and equally soft and gorgeous body. A sudden wave of possessiveness washed over me.
“No.”
“Yes.”
I gritted my teeth. “El, don’t push me on this.”
“The only way they’re going to let you go out tonight is if they think you’re helping me with something.”
“What could you possibly need help with?” I snapped.
She held her head high, her eyes narrowed. “Self Defense.”
I whistled. “Yeah, not gonna happen, you don’t want me near you when things get violent. I don’t—” Shame slammed into me. “I don’t stop.”
“I don’t really need you to teach me.” She rolled her eyes. “Believe me, I can handle myself.”
“Doubtful,” I said under my breath about the same exact time I felt a knife poke into my lower back and her breath on my neck.
“Deal?” she whispered.
“More secrets, hmm?” I smirked, enjoying the way she thought she had me, seconds, it would take seconds to flip her on her ass and impale the knife wherever I wanted it.
But I liked her spirit.
Correction, I freaking loved it.
Shit, this wasn’t the plan.
I quickly jerked her elbow down, slammed the knife out of her hand and walked her toward the car, then pressed her up against it. “Rules.”
Her eyes lit up. Hell, this was a mistake.
“No talking to anyone.”
“I don’t talk to people.” A scowl drew her brows together.
“You talk to me.”
“You stock cookies in the pantry.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Plus you saved me today, I was just returning the favor.”
My mind immediately conjured up all the other ways she could return favors, and anger quickly replaced lust.
I jerked away from her. “Whatever you do, don’t get in the way of my fight.”
“Because you want all the fun?” She called back at me as I made my way to the driver’s side.
I opened the door and shook my head. “Because I don’t want to accidentally kill you, genius.”
She sucked in a breath.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I said, leaving it at that before letting the anger return.
I had to.
Because if I was walking into a trap, I needed it.
If I was walking into a fight.
I’d need it more.
Because something told me that the fight wouldn’t end with someone giving up anything but their life.
I kept that part to myself as El texted Chase and Nixon our agreed upon alibi.
Guilt gnawed.
I ignored it like I always did.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
El
ANGER MIXED WITH anticipation. It pulsed off of Dante in searing waves that had me constantly feeling the need to look away, because when he was like this, when he was… feeling his most alive — before possible death, he was irresistible. Like the god of war.
And in the moonlight, as he drove through the gates of campus, I could almost believe it. There was something in the warm night air, in the way he held the steering wheel. His eyes held purpose.
His body pulsed.
I blew out the breath I’d been holding in and kept my eyes on high alert; they darted from left to right then back again in vain search for anyone or anything that would give me a hint as to what really went on at midnight.
And try outs for what?
I never told Dante what the guy had said to me in class.
Part of me was afraid of what he would do to him.
And the other half of me was afraid of what would happen to me, if Dante saw the tattoo on my forearm, if he suspected I’d been marked just like them.
It would be like a death sentence.
Even though I fought like hell each time a needle touched my skin.