Page 15 of Pretty Savage: Defy

“Good. Now go. Let me talk to the girl.”

The door closes with another creak and a click while I will my eyelids not to flutter.

“I know you’re awake, Laurel.”

Fuck. Why did I even bother?

I roll over to face him, keeping my back to Carrson like that can somehow protect him from his father. Carr sits in a chair pulled up to the bedside with an apple in one hand and a small pocketknife in the other.

I’m not going to talk to him, I decide. I have nothing to say after what he did.

“How long have you been a spy for Silas Creed?” Carr asks, flicking the blade open with a delicate click.

“What?” I snap.

Dammit, two minutes in and I’ve already broken my no-talking rule. “I’m not a spy,” I say, glaring.

“Really?” He lifts a brow. “That’s odd. Samantha, Thomson, even Carrson insisted you were abducted by the ghost Silas Creed, but that can’t be possible, right? After all, here you are safe and sound. If Silas was anywhere near the animal everyone says he is, I’d expect you to come back in pieces.”

I hesitate, but if I say nothing it looks worse.

“I was with Silas. He kidnapped me. Jackson was there,” I say as Carr begins to peel the apple. Long red curls of skin coil onto the table. “He helped Silas. Jackson double-crossed you. It was a pretty savage thing to do, but I swear I’m telling the truth.”

“‘Pretty savage,’” he repeats, amused by my choice of words. “Go on.”

I tell him enough to explain where I went after the Halloween party. Jackson’s addiction to Devil’s Dust. Silas in his bus, and how I have no idea what it looks like because of the mask. I end with how I left Jackson high as a kite. The story comes out one bullet point at a time, while Carr peels his apple and listens without interruption.

Not everything, though.

I keep the more personal parts to myself. Silas claiming he’d been watching me. His offer to work together. His story about Evangeline. I save those details as leverage, to use in the future. I don’t trust Carr enough to hand him every piece of the puzzle, especially when I don’t see the entire picture myself.

Through it all, Carr’s eyes stay on me while his knife continues its slow work. There’s a sharpness to him, a sense that he’s sorting through every word as quickly as I speak it, looking for lies, for weakness, so I don’t give him any. Even so, I get the uncomfortable feeling that his mind is already two steps ahead of mine.

When I finish talking, I wait, but Carr doesn’t respond immediately.

He tilts his head, as the blade completes another orbit around the apple. He pops a slice into his mouth and chews, thoughtful. “Why,” he says mildly, “should I believe this fairy tale you’re spinning?”

“Because I came back.” My chin lifts. “Because I’m sitting here instead of selling your son for parts.”

“Exactly what any good spy would say.”

I throw up my hands. “Then I don’t know. There’s no way I can convince you.”

“Time,” he says, holding up a slice, inspecting it before eating, “I’ve found, is the best truth serum of all.”

“Whatever.” I lean back against the uncomfortable carved headboard and tug my pillow higher to cushion my back, then cross my arms over my chest.

Carr surprises me by letting out a quick chuckle. “You remind me of someone I used to know,” he says. “She’d get the same look on her face whenever she decided she was right and the rest of the world could go to hell.”

“She sounds like a smart woman,” I fire back.

“She is.” A smile touches his mouth and disappears just as quickly. He studies the apple in his hand before speaking again. “If, and that’s a very large if, any of what you say is true,” he continues, “it might be best to keep it to yourself. Samantha and Thomson can be trusted to keep quiet?”

I nod.

“Good. If Jack learns his son is working with Silas, he’ll call you a liar. It’ll be your word against Jackson’s, and everyone will believe the Beaumonts over you, an outsider.” A faint wrinkle dents his brow. “For now, say nothing. At least until we know more about Silas’s agenda. He’s a slippery fish, that one.”

He’s pensive for a moment, thinking. Then his gaze drops. I follow it and only then notice I’m holding Carrson’s hand, our fingers laced. I hadn’t realized I’d done that, just reached for Carrson on instinct. Physical proof I wasn’t alone.