Page 46 of The Fixer

Where are you, Kosta? I need your help.

“Fuck!” I pulled at my hair, then dropped my elbows to my knees, cradling my head. “I’m no fucking good at this.”

“Good at what?”

My lungs burned as I sucked in a sharp breath. Eliza’s hands were on my back and chest and something in me started to break. She was close. Too close. Trying to fucking comfort me when I was trying to do the same to her.

She pulled back suddenly, hands tucked between her thighs, head lowered and turned to the side. Her body tensed, as if waiting for a blow.

I would never. I could never.

I’d rather kill myself.

I slid my fingers into the crevice between her hands, and her thighs clenched, halting my movement. “At this,” I told her, answering the question she seemed to have forgotten she’d asked. Her brow pinched and I wanted to wipe it away. I traced my bottom lip with my tongue. “I’m no good at this. At conversation. At trying to help with words instead of actions. I can fix things, but not like you can. Not with words and feelings and emotions. That’s not how I’m built.”

“And that’s why you want me to defend myself?”

I pulled my hand free. Wiped it down my face, up my throat. As if doing so could wipe away the past five months and bring Kosta back. A sorry chuckle rattled in my chest.

“My friend.” My throat tightened and I swallowed at the hard lump rising from my heart. “You would have loved him.”

“The one who died?”

Nodding, I sat back in my seat. “Kosta. He was like you, Eliza. Calm and good and always wanting to help out. He had… He was a good man who…”

“Take your time,” she coaxed, her hand light on my arm.

That chuckle rumbled again. “God, you would have loved him. You’re so much like him. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.”

“See what?”

“When I first met Kosta, he was surrounded by women. They were like you. Broken. Beaten. Led to believe they were nothing.” I grabbed her hand as she tried to pull it away, held on to her fingers until her tugging stopped and I could slide my fingers between hers. “I hated him when I first met him. I thought he was using those women for his own gain. But I’ve never been more wrong.”

Eliza blinked at me, her brow pulling down, and a smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

“I don’t have a problem admitting when I’m wrong. And I was. Kosta wouldn’t hurt a fly. He was good through and through. And those women, he helped them all. Taught them to believe in themselves, to overcome their past. Together, they healed themselves. The girls gained confidence and strength, and it helped them through the hard times. And when those girls moved on, there were others who would take their place.”

I smoothed my thumb over hers, across her freckled skin. “I want to help you like he would,” I told her, catching her eye. “I want to teach you to defend yourself. So pieces of shit like Nathan Devereux won’t be able to do what he did.”

Her gaze traced my skin like a blade, carving me up with every slice. For some reason, it hurt. That she would question me. That she wouldn’t trust my intentions. But really, I could hardly blame her. Look what went through my mind with nothing more than a glance at the gorgeous woman she was.

“How much do you know?” Her voice shook slightly.

“I know enough. What he did to you. How you left him, how you fought back.”

“But how?”

“There were police reports—”

“Those records were supposed to be sealed!” I cringed at the wail in her voice. At the pain she so obviously felt. “It was Mathieu. Mateo. Whatever. He’s the one who found it, isn’t he?”

“No,” I told her, my thumb making another pass along hers. “It was someone else.”

“The guy he speaks with all the time?” she asked, touching her ear.

There was no need to respond. My answer was written in my silence. I tugged her by her hand, pulling her toward me. She resisted at first, and I was both happy and saddened when she finally relented. I pulled her to my chest, ran my fingers through her silky hair. “I can’t say that I’m sorry,” I murmured against her before pressing my lips to her head. “I can’t protect you if I don’t know the threats.”

Eliza’s hand pushed against my stomach, and she lifted her head to look at me. “Do you think Nathan is still a threat? It’s been two years.”