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He hesitated then handed his glass over. I took a sip, winced at the hard liquor, and handed it back. The warmth of the whiskey quieted my rumbling stomach a bit at least.
“We’re arming up,” he said. “And now I won’t be heading back to the city for a while.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Really. My crew there, they’re fine. They aren’t involved with the Jalisco, they’ve got other connections. NYC’s a whole different beast.”
“You’re needed here then,” I said.
“Right.” He took a deep breath. “But I need to be honest with you.”
I looked away. I knew what was coming. He was going to kick me out, maybe threaten to kill me if I told anyone what I knew. Having a journalist in his life was risky enough, but having a journalist in his life in the middle of a war was even worse.
I could still feel his hands on my hips, his tongue on my pussy, his fingers deep inside of me, and I didn’t want to leave. It was irrational and stupid, and I knew I’d be safer if I could just go home and forget I was ever involved in any of this, but I didn’t want that.
I wanted to stay. I wanted to make mistakes.
I felt like I’d lost my mind.
“You can just tell me,” I said, staring at the table. “I understand.”
He leaned toward me and put his glass down.
“If my father had this way, you’d be dead already,” he said, his voice even and low. “But I’m not letting that happen. I won’t force you to stay, but I also made a deal with you, and I plan on following through. So the choice is all up to you.”
I looked up and blinked a few times, not sure what to say. I opened my mouth then shut it again as I fidgeted in my seat.
“You’re not kicking me out?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “And I’m not letting anyone else do that, either.”
“Oh,” I said, at a complete and total loss.
“My father won’t really hurt you,” he said. “Don’t worry about that. He’s a bastard, but he’s not a monster and he’s not stupid. We start killing civilians and we all get locked up for a long time.”
“Wow, that really makes me feel better.”
He laughed, bitter and cold. “I know this is a lot,” he said. “You should sleep on it, okay?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I can sleep on it. But Vince, why would you want me here? I mean, I’m a liability.”
“I know,” he said, his head tilted. I looked up and met his eyes as he smiled. “But I got a taste of you today, Mona. And not just your body.”
I blinked a few times and took a breath to steady myself.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Look, what happened today, most people would’ve gone to pieces.”
“I kind of did,” I said.
“Not as bad as you’d think. I’ve seen worse, to be honest, I’ve seen hard men lose their shit, curl up in a ball, and sob for hours. Instead, you let me go down on you, then went upstairs and slept.”
I ran my fingers over the wooden table, feeling the cracks in the wood. I hadn’t thought about it, not really. I’d just been reacting, just venting my feelings, but he was right, it was strange that I kissed him, that I let him touch me, that I let him get me off.
It was strange that I even could get off in that moment.
“Maybe there’s something wrong with me,” I said.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “You’re just made of harder stuff than you realize.”
I looked up at him and shook my head.
“I used to think this was what I wanted,” I said. “You know, hunt down danger, find the real story.”
“I know what you mean,” he said with a distant little smile. “I used to want it too. Wanted the fighting, the blood, the glory, back when I was young and stupid.”
“But it’s not fun or good, is it?” I asked. “I mean, it’s not the sort of thing you can just keep doing without it changing you.”
“That’s right,” he said. “It always changes you.”
“So how do you deal with it? What do you become?”
He stared at his glass, sipped it, looked at me. I felt a chill run down my spine at the distance in his eyes, like he wasn’t really seeing me, but looking deep inside of himself.
“Someone better,” he said and leaned closer, blinking a little, his eyes focusing on me. “If you need to find someone to talk to, then you go and you talk. If you need to bottle it all up, then that’s what you do. But you find a way to survive, to cope, to become stronger. If you let them come at you and break you, then you’ve lost, then next time you’ll freeze up and you’re dead. That’s what I’ve learned over the years, those that survive in this game learn to push aside the fear, the guilt, all that fucking regret. They learn to be better.”
