Page 292 of A Vicious Love

“You’re very brave tonight,” I said.

“I’m trying to get to know you.”

“You know me.”

She shook her head, and for some reason that annoyed me. More than it should have..

“No, Jamison. I know pieces of you. I know your roles. What you drink, how you sound on calls. That’s not the same.”

My thumb moved along her knee again. Slower this time.

She kept talking, softer now, as if each word had to be chosen from somewhere tender. “I know a lot about the man everyone sees. I don’t know what you do alone. What makes you calm down. What you liked before everything became work.”

“I fight,” I said eventually.

Her brows drew together. “For work?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes because it calms me.”

“That sounds…”

“Violent?”

“I was going to say lonely.”

I looked away.

She was too good at that. Walking around the obvious blood on the floor to touch whatever sat underneath.

“It’s simple,” I said. “A fight has rules even when men pretend it doesn’t. Body moves, body answers. No council language, or family history. Pain is honest.”

Her eyes stayed on my face. “Do you get hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Badly?”

“Rarely.”

Her mouth tightened.

I slid my hand from her knee to her shin under the water. “Do not make that face. I’ve survived worse than fists.”

“That is not comforting.” The corner of her mouth lifted. “What else?”

I took another drink and leaned back on one hand. “I drive.”

“You drive?”

“When I can’t drink.”

She looked genuinely surprised. “I didn’t know you liked cars.”

“I own garages full of them.”

“Garages?” Her eyes widened. “Plural?”

“Yes.”