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"What is it, Jovich?" Remy growls. He makes no apology and no attempt to hide his irritation. Honestly, Jovich is so good at cock-blocking us that I have to wonder if he’s jealous about having to share Remy's attention. Maybe he has a thing for Remy, too. I can't really blame him if that’s the case.
His voice is muffled, but I can still make out the words, "I just thought you'd want to know that Jack called."
"You can give me the details later."
"Alright." Jovich agrees. "But I thought you may want to know that your friend Miss Monroe must have some friends in high places. We didn't find the birth certificate yet, but I did find a criminal record."
Criminal record?
It feels as if all of the air is sucked out, first from my lungs and then the room. Fear shudders through me, seizing my heart in its steely grip. Remy is so close that I can feel him tense beside me. What air is left in his room shifts from warm and gentle to cold and static. There's only one thing he could possibly be talking about. I swallow, praying that Jovich wasn’t able to see the details of that report. Just the highlights would be bad enough, but if he saw the whole thing…
Nausea rises up in my stomach, creeping all the way into the back of my throat. I suddenly can’t feel my fingers or toes, as though the cold’s made them lose feeling. My breath is so ragged I am sure he can hear it, and that he knows Remy is hiding me like a fugitive behind the door.
"Oh?" Remy asks without turning to me. If he’d look at me, maybe I could make my mouth work enough to tell him not to listen. Maybe he’d see that I can explain. Maybe he’d let me tell him myself, in my own way, before it’s out there.
"Assault with a deadly weapon." Jovich says, and I feel my hope crumble. Of course, they found it. That file was supposed to be sealed, hidden from the world because of my age and because the charges ultimately didn’t hold water. "There's another charge too, but it seems that one was dropped." He pauses as if he knows I’m standing there, just around the corner, holding onto a desperate hope that he hasn't seen anything more. And an even more desperate hope that if he did, he won't admit as much. But he barely pauses to let any of it sink in before he says, "Attempted murder."
Remy is silent as he processes the information, and Jovich takes the opportunity to speak again. "It seems the little minx isn't quite as innocent as she's been pretending to be."
"You don't say." Remy muses. I watch his lips form the words, and then he thanks Jovich. I’m not sure if Jovich is even gone before Remy shuts the door or if he just closes it in the older man's face, but when he turns to me, rage sparks in his eyes.
Chapter twenty-four
Remy
"Attempted murder?" I demand.
Claire's eyes are wide as I close the distance between us. But she doesn't say anything, doesn't try to defend herself. And her silence makes me angrier than her lies. "Start talking, Claire."
Her lip quivers as she looks like she’s about to say something, but then she presses it together against her bottom one and shakes her head. She covers her mouth with a hand, so that when she speaks it’s muffled. "I can't."
The rage burns like molten fury in my veins as my hands curl into fists at my sides. I've never hit a woman, and I don't ever plan to. But Claire is messing with my head. Her lies are poisoning my mind, and I need her to talk. I could turn her over to Jovich or Dimitri, but that would be a fate darker than my anger. She's already backed herself into the wall, and now she’s caught between a rock and a hard place as I shift my weight in front of her and grip her chin between my fingers. She has nowhere to go. I can feel her heart slamming against her ribs. She’s like an animal in a cage, which means she’s dangerous.
"Who the fuck are you?" I growl.
She winces, knocking her head against the wall as she tries to lurch away from my anger. I've given her too many chances. I've tried to be too nice because she matters to the one person who matters to me. I let her tight little body tempt and distract me from the fact that she is just as much a threat to my family as any other stranger on the street... probably more, given that my sister trusts her so completely.
Anger rips through me as I watch her close her eyes. It doesn’t stop the tears spilling out from under her lashes. So many goddamn tears. Does she think they’ll stop me from getting the answers I need from her? Does she think that I’m so weak that her pathetic whimpering will make me take a step back or let it go?
"Who are you?" I grind the words out between clenched teeth and sink my fist into the wall just to the right of her head.
The drywall crumbles around my fist, and bits of it scatter to the ground, a white powdery dust floating in the air. "I've already told you." She sobs. "I don't know what else to say. Please."
"Then tell me who the fuck you tried to kill." I want to shake her, but I can't close my hands on her. If I do, I’m not sure I'll stop until I know she isn't a threat to my family anymore. If I put my hands on her, I’m not sure I'll be able to stop until she’s dead.
A deer caught in the headlights, at first, she only stares at me. And then through her crying, she chokes out a name. A name I don't recognize, and one that I can't make out. I grip her chin tighter, force her to look at me, and demand that she repeats the name.
"Eric." Her voice is small. She looks like she’s about to collapse, so I shift my weight on my feet, pressing against her. I plant one hand on the wall so my fingers won't drift down to her pretty little neck and start to close around it of their own accord.
"Eric who?"
She closes her eyes, letting the last of the tears escape. And when she opens them again, those tears are gone. Her resistance is gone. Her fight is gone.
Because now she’s empty.
The shift is noticeable—not like she’s dropped a façade, but like she’s let go of something she’s given all of her energy trying to hold onto. Now she’s deflated and hollow, her voice cold and her eyes eerily void of emotion.
"Eric Giante." She says, her voice a whisper like she’s afraid saying the name any louder will summon him. "My former foster father."
