There’s only one person I want—and I ruthlessly shove it away.
Wiping my mouth, I stand, wrapping my scarred hands around my middle. Too late, I realize what a sight I am—blood on my face, a revealing leather skirt, high boots. Not the type of date he usually takes out.
He scans me quickly, looking at every spot for a wound. “Are you alright?”
No. I’m not.
But he doesn’t need to know that. The world doesn’t need to know how broken I feel on the inside—how unsure I am in a role never meant for me. To the world, I’m emotionless andin control. Inside, I’m fortifying a dam that wants to break and flood me in all the nastiness of my past.
No one needs to know how haunted I still am. How those voices are my only comfort—and tormentors.
Nodding, I glance around. The gray sky has grown to black, the streetlights casting ugly orange circles on the white patches of snow. How long have I been out here? “What are you doing here?”
“Visiting a client.” He shoves his hands into his dress slacks, the heavy jacket covering most of his torso. “You shouldn’t be here. This area isn’t safe. I’ve heard of organized activity around here.”
Yeah, I’m the leader of it.
Stepping closer, he bends his head to level with my eyes, searching my gaze. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” My body is convulsing at this point, so cold my lips are blue. It’s better than anything else I’m feeling.
“You have blood” —he gestures to his face— “right here.”
Fucking Linwood.
Gently prodding my cheek, I avoid his gaze. I’ve never been embarrassed to be covered in blood before. Mayhem, grime, it’s been a part of me for decades.
In front of Reese, I’m dirty. In front of Linwood?—
No.
“It’s not mine.”
“Whose—”
“It’s mine.”
Fury flickers to life in my belly. Forget the ice dulling it; it ignites back to life with his nearness. Linwood glides around my side, sliding my coat over my shoulders. My perfume mixed with his essence drifts to my nose, and the weight in the pockets calms me. My gun.
I don’t look at him, though. Just wrap the jacket closer and try to stop my teeth from chattering too loudly.
“And you are?” Reese asks, scanning Linwood. Then, a light brightens his brown orbs. “Wait! I saw you at the charity auction a few months ago. Maeve said she had to drive you home after you had one too many drinks.”
Rancid amusement hits my skin like a whip. I can always feel Killian’s moods—know when he’ll snap, or when he’s relaxed. It’s a curse.
A gentle smirk covers his handsome face right now, but it’s not the good one.
“Is that what happened?” he drawls, digging out a cigarette.
“Maeve called me the next day—” He glances at me. “Am I remembering correctly?”
Nothing in me wants to have this conversation. The fact Linwood stopped me from killing a man who deserved nothing less than death, and now he’s standing next to me like he has any right, is fueling the fury in my gut. Add to it these emotions that won’t fucking stop—and I want him to hurt. I want tomakehim pay.
The anger claws up my throat, sinking its fangs into my belly as if to feed from me—to poison me further. I let it.
The Reaper takes pity on me. “If that’s what she said, then that’s what happened.”
Reese nods, smiling slightly. “I never properly introduced myself.” He holds out his hand, his smile turning wider. “Reese Silva.”
