Dark Secrets(44)

Maybe he wasn't an asshole because he was just an asshole.

Maybe he was an asshole because he drank and he drank because of the fucked up shit he had seen.

Suddenly, she almost felt sorry for how nasty she had been to him over the years. Even if he totally deserved it.

"Anthony, it wasn't your fault. You were, what, eighteen at the time? You couldn't have known."

"Knew enough to know they were drunk as fuck and had no business doing business that way. Should have known to watch them."

"Again, you were eighteen, Ant. And when you did find out what was going on, you still stopped two grown ass and drunk men. That's no small deal."

"Yeah but if I was another five minutes later..." he said, shaking his head.

"But you weren't," she said, leaning down on the bar across from him, trying to catch his eye. 

"He already had his hands..."

"Anthony, enough," she said, her voice low but firm. "That was ten years ago. I'm fine."

"You're not fine," he countered, finally making eye-contact and what she saw there for the first time was the truly tortured soul of a man she thought she hated.

"Yes, I am," she said, a little insulted that he would think, let alone say, any different.

"You're shut down. Never seen you let anyone in. Not even..."

"Hey, are these those new self-slicing lemons I heard about?" Daniel's voice called suddenly, making her jolt upward, almost as if she was guilty.

Anthony stiffened, filling his glass, saluting her with it, and moving away.

She exhaled a low breath as she felt Daniel move in behind her. "What the heck was that?" he asked.

"The first honest conversation I think he and I have ever had," she admitted, rolling her shoulders to try to shake the heaviness she felt there.

He felt guilty because of what happened.

She felt guilty because he drank because of her.

And the only people who were actually guilty had execution style bullets in their brains and bodies buried at some undisclosed location.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" he asked, obviously picking up on her mixed emotions.

"A bit of both, I guess," she said honestly. "Monday," she said when the silence started to feel awkward between them, her watching the bottle Anthony vacated like it might jump at her and Daniel like a personal security guard right behind her shoulder.

"Monday?" he repeated.

"Vin wants you on your own on Monday. He would have said tomorrow, but Wednesday through Sunday are my shifts. So Monday you're on your own."

That was the first thing Vin said to her when she showed up at work that afternoon. He asked if the count was alright and if Danny was able to pull a shift on his own. He was and she wasn't going to lie just because a part of her wanted him on her shift with her. So the decision was made.

"Don't worry, baby," he said, his lips close to her ear. "Still plan on fucking you seven ways to Sunday. We'll just have to get creative on the timeframe."

"Yeah, I wasn't worried about that," she said with a wry smile as she turned to face him.

"Oh no?" he asked, lips twitching. "Why's that?"

"Because I know you would fuck me in the back alley on my break if I asked you to."

"Well," he said, trying to hold back the smile and losing the fight. "You're not wrong about that."

She felt her belly go warm and liquid at the masculine satisfaction on his face and she wondered how long it would be. Days, weeks. How long would it take for them to find time to finally give in.

"Are you teaching a class tomorrow?" he asked unexpectedly.

"Oh, um," she stalled, caught off guard, mentally flicking through her calendar. "Yeah. Tomorrow I have the women's shelter."

"When?"

She felt her brows drawing together, finding herself a little suspicious in his interest in her schedule. "At eleven-thirty."

"Eleven-thirty, huh?" he asked, a wicked little grin teasing at his lips. "So that means I have from when we get out of here at around four until, let's say... eleven-twenty to see how many times I can make you come before your neighbors start banging on the walls."

Well then.

She had her answer, didn't she?

"I take your silence as tacit agreement," he said and when she looked at him, he was in no way hiding his devilish smirk as he wiped down the bar.

So then they worked their shift and Faith found herself even more hyper-aware of each of his movements, each of his chaste touches, each of his promising smiles than ever before.