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He rolled me to my back, coming over me, his body mostly pressed against mine.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
“The worst thing,” I went on.
His hands slid into the hair on either side of my head. “You aren’t okay,” he noted.
“I don’t care about Vince. He told me he was going to rape me with a broken bottle.”
Eddie’s eyes changed, instead of partially wary and partially resigned, they became active, as in,scaryactive.
“He said that?”
I nodded.
“Then I really don’t give a shit that he’s dead.”
“But you’re a cop!” I cried.
“So?”
“Hank says you guys are the good guys. You play by the right set of rules and homicide is wrong, no matter who does it or why.”
He did a lip touch and then rolled again, taking me with him so that I was on top.
“Hank’s a different kind of cop than me,” Eddie shared. “Some dickhead makes my woman’s life a living hell and threatens to rape her with a broken bottle, I’m not fuckin’ losin’ sleep over the fact he isn’t breathin’ anymore.”
“So, Hank plays by the rules and you see shades of gray,” I summed up.
His body moved with laughter.
“Hank plays by the rules,” he repeated this like it was funny.
“He doesn’t?” I asked.
“Chiquita, Hank’s got a rule book and I bet he studies it, but he’s also got a lot of shit scratched out and a fuck of a lot of notes in the margin.”
Hmm.
“Oh,” I mumbled.
See, I was right. Hank was a scary good guy.
“Let’s talk about what Vince said to you,” Eddie suggested.
I sighed and pressed my face in his neck and shoved my arms around him. “Let’s not.”
“You got to talk about it.”
“Why? It’s over. You deal. You move on. I’m fine. Everyone I love is fine. Except Dad, and there’s hope he’ll be fine too. Vince was a jerk. Now he’s dead. The end.”
Eddie’s arms tightened around me and he said some stuff softly in Spanish.
My head came back up. “What? I didn’t catch any of that.”
He did another roll, him getting on top again.
Then, he said, “You don’t wanna talk? We won’t talk.”
