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“Clean up the blood before she gets out here. I don’t want her thinking I’m a complete fucking asshole.”
“You’re Xander Rossi, as if she could think anything different.”
He chuckles, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “She doesn’t know me yet, but she will, and I want my first impression to stick. So, clean up the blood, and show me you’ve got this shit figured out. These men are nothing but small fry, but if word gets back to their leader, shit might just get ugly.”
“Got it.” And I did. I was going to get rid of the fucker, and hope that Grace could handle me working in the line of work I was in. I knew she didn’t like violence, but this wasn’t something I could walk away from.
“Good. I’ll be in touch. Ella wants to have a barbeque at the house soon, so I’ll let you know when it’s taking place. Maybe you can bring Grace?”
“Sure, boss.” I say, forcing a smile, and watch him walk out of my house. When he’s gone, I head into the kitchen and clean up my nose. Pain radiates through my face and I grit my teeth swallowing it down.
I’m pretty sure my nose isn’t broken but even if it was, it’s nothing that I haven’t dealt with before. A broken nose is like a hangnail in my line of work. Exhaling I force all of the tension from my body. Focus, Luke, I tell myself as I hear the soft pitter patter of feet behind me.
9
Grace
I can tell the moment I enter the kitchen and find Luke facing the window, the muscles in his back rippling with tension, that the visit he just had with that Xander man wasn’t a good one. Luke looks like the hulk; brooding, angry, and with more muscles, than I’m used to seeing him with. My steps flaunter directly behind him. I can see him white-knuckling the countertop, and I wonder what happened.
“What’s going on?” I chance asking. Luke whirls around, and a gasp rips from my throat. His face is swollen, and his nose has been bleeding. His hair is still damp, and water clings to the longer strands. His pale blue eyes bleed into mine, and it looks like a thunderstorm is taking place in those dark depths of his.
“Nothing. Nothing is going on.” His words are clipped, and I know instantly that I’m not dealing with the Luke I grew up with. The one I was most fond of, the one that I loved. No, the Luke before me is the stone-cold killer version. The man that didn’t bat an eye at someone dying, that could pull the trigger on a gun without thinking of the consequences.
“Are you okay?” I ask softly.
“Fine,” he grumbles, “are you hungry? We can go to the diner in town, and then maybe to the grocery store. I have some things I want to talk to you about.”
“Like the fact that you’re practically a hitman?” I blurt out, crossing my arms over my chest. Okay, so maybe there was a better way to bring it up. I can’t change what Luke does, and I refuse to be a part of it, but I do still love him. That’s something I can’t stop.
A sly grin forms on his lips, “I guess there isn’t any point in trying to hide it anymore.” I almost cringe, almost.
“Kind of hard to hide it, when I know for a fact what I saw yesterday was a hit gone wrong.” Inside I’m still shaken to the core over what happened, the blood, and death. I shiver at the thought, at the images of the dead man’s body, and the bloody puddle of mayhem I had fallen into. I hate myself a little more with each second I allow myself to stay with him. But what would I do, where would I go? If I tried to escape, he would just catch me. No matter what I’m stuck here. Stuck until I find a solution. A way out, if there even is one.
Luke visibly swallows, “You never should’ve been involved, and I’m sorry that you were. Sorry that you had to see me like that. It’s one of the reasons I stayed out of your life for so long. Why I never came for you, until now.” Color me shocked, he actually sounds sorry and even his eyes reflect his apology. My heart races inside my chest.
Now that he’s ready to give me the answers I seek I’m not sure I want them. I don’t know if I really want to know why he didn’t come for me right away, what his job fully entails, and what that Xander Rossi man, has to do with anything.
“Can we talk about this later. I’m hungry.” My gaze falls to the floor instead of where I want it to go, like his muscled chest, washboard abs, or those muscles that make the perfect V that lead down to his… God, I need to stop. I need to stop thinking about this man in any other way than a killer.
