“Please, Cain. Let me help.”
I loosen her arms from around my neck and she retreats to the bed. She deserves to know everything. For the first time since the day she left, I feel the pain again. If I tell her, will she hate me? Of course she will. She’s on the good side of the law, while her husband breaks it every time his feet hit the damn ground.
“I’ll tell you the truth, but I need you to promise me you will keep an open mind.”
She looks down to the floor then back up at me again.
“Now you’re scaring me. You’re in some kind of trouble, aren’t you?” she whispers.
Someone has sucky ass timing. My phone rings and I pull it out of my vest pocket. Seeing that it’s Priscilla, I answer.
“Yeah. I got it. I’ll be right out.”
Disconnecting, I shove my phone back in my vest, my eyes never leaving hers.
“Priscilla’s outside. Let me give this to her and I’ll be right back.”
I don’t stick around in the room after that. I need a moment to myself, to decide if I tell her everything or just enough to hope like hell it pacifies her enough so I can get on with my day.
By the time I’m finished giving the list and a wad full of cash to Priscilla, my mind is made up. I need for her to trust me and know I’m serious about the two of us. She’s going to flip her shit when she finds out just how deep I am into being a first class law-breaking criminal.
“Let’s go in the other room and talk. And here, put these on. You’re distracting the hell out of me knowing you have nothing on underneath my t-shirt.”
The air is crackling with a thick cable of tension. I hand her a pair of my shorts. She doesn’t even look at me when she takes them out of my hand. My gut twists in a damn knot so tight, I’m afraid it will never come undone, like a shoelace you can’t seem to undo no matter what, so you cut it. That’s how I feel right now. Like I’m about to cut my own damn heart out.
I stand there and watch her slide my way-too-big-for-her shorts up her long legs, catching a glimpse of her bare * when she pulls them up and ties the string.
“I promise I’ll keep an open mind. I’ll do anything to help you.”
Her words startle me. I nod in her direction when she sits on the couch and I head for the chair. I’m in desperate need of a drink. I couldn’t care less what time of the day it is.
“Do you want that cup of coffee?” I ask.
“No. I want you to quit stalling and tell me.”
She looks like she could claw my eyes out. An intimidator. A fucking lawyer. Before I even begin, I know deep in my gut my wife is the one person who just might be able to help me.
“I’m a gun thief, Calla. I steal them and turn around and sell them.”
I watch as shock takes over her body. All the color drains from her face. Her mouth goes slack. She gulps loudly.
“Why? How?”
“Why? I’m damned good at it. The best. And it makes me a shit-ton of fucking money. And the how? I’ve got my ways. Ones I’m willing to share with you if you’ll become my lawyer.”
She looks away from me for a moment, shaking her head sadly.
“How could your life have come to this?”
Disappointment in me is etched across her gorgeous features. I’m sure it matches my own. Every day when I look in the mirror I’m reminded of the failure I’ve become. The woman sitting across from me is the one person I’ve failed the most. I’m not who she thought I was. Or who I wanted to be. I’m a money hungry, blood thirsty criminal. I’m not about to ask her to forgive me. It may not be what I wanted to do growing up, but I enjoy what I do. I shrug internally.
I contemplate my response. I haven’t had to answer to anyone in a long ass time. Calla’s not just anyone; she’s my life. If there is a way out of this without anyone getting hurt, or worse, killed, I will do it. For her.