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I was as dangerous as any other monster roaming the streets.
In a different way, but the results were the same.
“That girl loves to go out and find herself trouble.” He was still eyeing me skeptically.
“I was hoping to keep her out of it.”
He chuckled a low, disbelieving sound as he blatantly took me in. “You look like plenty of it to me.”
It was hedged in a warning.
I swallowed around the discomfort lodged in my throat. “I am.”
Air puffed from his nose. “She’s a good girl.”
“I recognize that.”
“Good, then you understand she doesn’t need any more pain in her life.”
Without saying anything else, he turned and shuffled back down the hall while I stood there gaping at the spot where he’d stood, feeling like I’d been bitch-slapped by an old man.
I didn’t want to bring her pain, but I had, hadn’t I?
Blowing out a sigh, I finished filling the glass and moved back into Paisley’s room. I set both the glass and ibuprofen on her nightstand, pushing a magazine out of the way so I could find a bare spot.
Then I turned to stare down at where she had passed out, still wearing her boots with her legs flopped over the side of her bed.
I contemplated, finding I was unable to walk out and leave her like that. I began to work a boot from her foot, then the other. I didn’t know if it was exasperation or amusement that pulled through me once I got them off.
Mismatched socks, one bright green and the other red and pink striped.
This absurd, ridiculous girl.
Wild and untamed and everything that shouldn’t send my heart sailing in my chest.
I set her boots next to her bed, adjusted her so she was laying the right direction on the mattress, then pulled the pink plush comforter up to her chin.
A moan of pleasure left her as she snuggled under the covers, the angles of her face so goddamned pretty beneath the glow of her light.
Refusing to be the perv staring at her while she slept, I silently moved to the door. I only paused for the barest moment when she mumbled, “Maybe you’re not a total jerk. A jerk for sure…maybe not all the way, though. Fallen angels aren’t all bad, are they? Can’t be,” she rambled.
Fallen angel?
No. She had it wrong. There was no angel inside me. Just the darkness I incited.
TWELVE
CALEB
SIX YEARS AGO
Caleb angled into his father’s office. City lights spread out below them, the harbor a blackened sheet dotted with lights that shined from the ships and ferries, the islands in the distance twinkling as their inhabitants settled into the night.
It was just past nine, and Caleb’s father remained behind the massive industrial desk that sat on the far side of his sprawling penthouse office.
An upstanding businessman through-and-through.
Appearances and all.
Respected.
Renowned.
The richest man in the Northwest.
But Caleb knew what was underneath the powerful suit who watched over the city as if he ruled it. He knew how it’d been built. And Caleb was responsible for maintaining it. Continuing its growth by any measure required.
Caleb stood opposite him, his worn, leather jacket keeping out the cold of the Seattle winter, roughing a hand over his head, waiting for his father to give him instruction.
He’d been summoned like the demon he was, called up from the pits where he roamed.
His father leaned forward on his desk, his blond hair short and perfectly styled, and strands of gray had begun to show at his temples. It only served to make him appear more dignified.
He pushed a stack of papers Caleb’s direction, irritation pulling through his features. “Frank Aston refused the contract. Your sister has informed me he doesn’t want to sell.”
Unease billowed through Caleb. He hated that his father had allowed his sister to be a part of this life at all, even though she remained unaware of the way their practices were really handled. It didn’t give him any peace, not when their father basically used her kindness as a front.
“I wish you wouldn’t have her involved in any of this.”
“She is just as much a part of this family as you, no?”
Caleb planted his hands on his desk. “But she isn’t like either of us, is she?”
Chuckling, his father waved an errant hand. “Leave her be to do the work she thinks is important. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. And make sure when you leave here, you convince Frank Aston that he does want to sell…whatever measures it takes.”
“He’s already been offered more?”
“Money is not the issue. He says that building has been in his family for generations. It appears he is loyal to blood.” His words were underscored. Emphasized.
Caleb easily received the message. “I’ll handle it.”
“I know you will. And once you take this position when I’m gone, you will be more powerful for it. I only want what’s best for my family, too.”
