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“A word to the wise, Miss Fiona,” she called after me.
I looked back at her, anticipating something that would make me want to draw my gun on her – and trying to preemptively calm myself down.
“What?”
“Whatever he might have done to you… he’s a good man. Trust me when I say that.”
I stood there, taken off guard and stunned into silence. I couldn’t find it inside me to say anything.
“Stupid, and stubborn, and stuck-up, sure – ” she continued.
“Love you, too, Sloane,” Jack said sarcastically as he opened the door.
She laughed and blew him a kiss.
As I walked out into the night air, the last thing I heard before I closed the door was, “Don’t let a dick that good go to waste, honey! Keep it in good workin’ order for me!”
64
We got back to the car and motorcycle before I let loose. “Jesus Christ.”
“Yeah,” Jack sighed. “I know, I know.”
“You were married to her?”
“Don’t judge.”
“If that’s what you’re into – ”
“WAS into.”
“ – then it makes me doubt your taste.”
“So?” he snapped. “You hate my fucking guts now, so what the fuck do you care?”
He had me.
Why did I care?
Because I did. I didn’t want to – and I sure as hell didn’t want him to know that – but I did.
And it was bothering the hell out of me.
I dropped the topic and went with the only important one. “Can we trust her?”
“Like I said: to act in her own best interest – yeah. Beyond that, we should handle with extreme caution.”
“So what now?”
“Back home,” he said, and got on his bike and fired up the engine.
I have to admit, as I got back in my car, all I could hear in my head was Sloane’s voice:
He’s a good man. Trust me when I say that.
Unfortunately, I could also hear her say, Don’t let a dick that good go to waste!
Which fucked with my head – and other parts of me – all the way back to Richards.
