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I shake my head, not even sure how to take that. “What do I get out of it?”
“Information,” he says.
My heart literally stops beating. For a full thirty seconds I’m caught like a deer in headlights. Frozen in time. Only when my heart stutters back to life do I breathe, finally managing to speak. “How…?”
“I saw Crown with Eastern that day they arrived out of the blue before Christmas. I was skipping class, working out in the outhouse and saw the car arrive through the back entrance into the estate.”
Fuck.
“You know Crown.”
“I know Crown.” He confirms, not elaborating further. I don’t press the point. I’m too busy panicking about what else he knows. Ford steps towards me, swiping his wet hair back. His eyes are more green than grey today, reflecting the water. “He’s been after the King for years now. I’m guessing he gave you a deal?”
I don’t answer. Panic seeps into my blood. My fear must show on my face because Ford reaches for me. He takes my hand, squeezing tightly.
“It’s okay. Don’t answer. The less you tell me the better. Just know I get what you’re doing and why. Sonny suspects something big is going on. He’s not a fool, Asia.”
“So you’re keeping him away.”
Ford nods. “Yes, because Sonny can’t hide his true feelings. He’s too passionate, he’ll give everything away the moment you give him your time.”
“And you can hide your feelings?” I tentatively ask.
“I’ve spent years hiding how I really feel from the world. It’s second nature to me.”
“Except here you are…”
“Except here I am.”
He stares into my eyes. Not moving, but not leaving either. This is dangerous, stupid. I pull my hand from his but for some stupid reason rather than stepping away, I run my fingers over his crude tattoo.
“Bad Boy…” I murmur. He seems to stiffen as I trace my finger over the damaged skin. When I look up at him, he’s staring right through me and into a memory that haunts him far more than my touch. “Can I trust you, Ford?”
“Yes. You’ll see.” And despite everything that’s happened recently, everything I know to be true; I believe him.
“You should go.”
He nods. “We’ll take care of Eastern, if you take care of Camden.”
“I thought you hated Camden?” I murmur.
“I don’t hate him. How can I? He was my brother once,” he admits, stepping out of the pool.
I watch the water droplets slide down his skin, traversing the peaks and troughs of his ripped muscles before dripping to the tiled floor. My body aches for him to get back in the pool and touch me just the way he did before in the outhouse. But it’s way too risky.
“Why would you take care of Eastern?”
“Because he means something to you and because of that, he means something to me.”
With that he walks off, leaving me pondering that statement long after he’s disappeared through the changing room doors.
