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“You're right. It is shitty,” I said.
“Yep. But there's not much else to choose from,” he said.
He took another sip, still staring at the television blankly. For the first time, I saw him relaxed. I also saw him shirtless. He was in such good shape, it made my breath catch in my throat as my eyes traveled up and down his body. He was built like a God. With a muscular chest, and the tiniest bit of hair running down to his stomach, it was hard not to stare. The tattoos were like works of art on his skin, and I tried to take them all in, as if deciphering a puzzle. There were plenty of scars too – some of them deeper than others.
As my gaze moved upward, our eyes met – he'd caught me staring at him.
My cheeks flushed red, and I turned back to the TV and cleared my throat. I pointed at the screen with the bottle and pretended to be interested.
“Elephants, huh?” I asked.
“Yeah. We only get one channel,” he said.
“Well, I like elephants, so it's all good.”
Declan didn't respond. He just went back to watching television – well, not watching, more like just staring at it. Yes, definitely just staring at it. He wasn't watching it or even listening, his mind was obviously lost in another world, somewhere else entirely.
As was mine.
I took a long swallow of the bitter ass beer before putting the bottle down on the coffee table. I was no longer looking at the television – I couldn't stop staring at him, wondering what was going through his head.
“What?” he asked, as he turned the full weight of his gaze completely on me. “You keep staring at me like you want to say something. So, just spit it out already.”
“I – well, I was just curious. I don't know what you're thinking,” I said. “You tell me to trust you, but I don't know the first thing about you. How can I trust somebody I know nothing about?”
He lifted the bottle of beer, taking a long swallow, and finished it off. He set it down on the table with a loud clang and sighed. Declan ran a hand through his hair and looked around the room, looking as if he was trying to keep himself from saying something. Finally, he turned back to me, his jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed.
“Listen, we're not going to be best friends, Kara,” he said. “We're both stuck in a shitty situation, and I'm just trying to make the best of it. There's really not much more to it than that.”
I shrugged. “I just figured since we're stuck together in this shitty situation, we might as well make it pleasant. Or at least, as pleasant as it can be. Excuse me for thinking we didn't have to be enemies.”
He sat back on the couch and let out a long breath. “Fine,” he says. “You're right. So, what do you wanna know about me?”
“Anything,” I said, not really prepared with a question. “Tell me about yourself.”
I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapped my arms around them, and stared at him some more. He was looking back at me, his brow furrowed, but he didn't look angry. He looked like a man measuring his words. “Well,” he said scratching his beard, “There's not much to say. I'm an underground fighter with nothing to show for my twenty-seven years on this planet. I don't have much, I've got little money, but I get by. And up until now, I've been fine with that.”
“Up until you had your son?” I asked.
He sighed again, this time leaning his head against the back of the loveseat, a bemused smirk on his face. He shook his head.
“Jesus Christ, am I in therapy now or something?” When I didn't answer, he sat upright again and said, “Yes, my son made me realize what a fuckup I've been my whole life. And I keep fucking up. Obviously, since now I'm apparently kidnapping people and holding them hostage for ransom. Not how I expected to spend my life.”
“I get that,” I said softly. “That makes sense. More than you know.”
“Get what?” he sneered. “What could you possibly get?”
“Spending your life, doing everything for other people. Living it for someone else other than yourself. Just trying to get by, day-by-day,” I said.
“I didn't say any of that shit,” he said.
“You didn't have to,” I said.
He sat back again, but no longer tried to argue the point with me. In fact, his face softened as he stared down at his hands. It seemed like my words hit a little closer to home than he expected them to. I could see that they'd gotten under his skin.
“I really don't intend to hurt you, Kara,” he said. “And I won't let my brothers do it either. If there's one thing you can believe in all this crazy shit, it's that.”
“For some crazy reason, I believe you,” I said, realizing I actually meant the words as I spoke them.
