Nicky and I looked back at the other men. Lisandro and Bernardo were both in front of Olaf. Bernardo had his hands on Olaf’s upper body, literally holding him back. Olaf wasn’t trying to get past him very hard, but Bernardo’s hands were definitely reminding Olaf to stay where he was, and Lisandro stood there like a sort of secondary defense in case Olaf really did try to get past Bernardo.
But it was the look on Olaf’s face that was frightening. Rage was plain on his face, so much rage. “He’s jealous,” Nicky said.
“Yeah,” I said.
“He’s more jealous of me.” I moved away from him, wondering if that would soften some of the emotion on Olaf’s face. Nicky reached out, took my hand. “Don’t let him bully you, Anita. He’ll take as much control of your life as you let him.”
I let Nicky keep my hand in his now, because he was right. I couldn’t let Olaf’s weird jealousy control me. What I didn’t understand was why he was reacting so badly to Nicky, or had Olaf just reached another level of obsession with me, so that any interaction I had with other men was going to drive him nuts? That would be bad, but if it was just Nicky, then that was a different kind of bad.
I had no idea how to talk Olaf down from what I saw as an insane and undeserved jealousy. He wasn’t my lover, wasn’t a boyfriend, wasn’t even my friend. He had no right to the anger on his face, no right to feel possessive of me, but how do you convince a seven-foot-tall psychopath serial killer that you’re not his love bunny without him trying to kill you, or you having to kill him? I had no idea.
33
BERNARDO SPLIT US up; he took Olaf, leaving Lisandro to drive Nicky and me. We managed to get into the cars and head to the motel without Olaf losing what was left of his control. In fact, he just suddenly went icily and completely calm. The total change in affect was more chilling than anything else he could have done, because the change of heart couldn’t be real. It was like he’d taken all that rage and just locked it away, but I knew it was still in there. It was still in there and it would find a way out, and that way would be frightening.
Lisandro drove. I started to get in back with Nicky, but Lisandro said, “Anita, sit up front with me.”
“Why?” I asked.
“You and Nicky got pretty distracted back there. It’s part of what got the big guy so upset. He wanted to break you guys up.”
“Stop us from kissing, or hurt us?” I asked.
“I don’t think Bernardo was sure which he meant to do; that’s why he stopped him.”
“I appreciate you and Bernardo interceding for us,” I said.
“It was my job, and Bernardo is more afraid of Edward than he is of Olaf.”
“Thanks all the same,” I said.
“Just ride up front, that’s thanks enough,” he said.
“Anita can sit in back with me,” Nicky said.
“I’m not driving around while the two of you make out,” he said.
“We’re not getting in the back to make out, Lisandro.”
He just looked at me. “So why does it matter if you ride up front?”
I opened my mouth, and then closed it. Why did it matter? Nicky brushed his fingers against mine, and it just seemed natural to fold my hand around his. I felt better, steadier. Ah, that was why it mattered. Could I promise that we wouldn’t make out in the back seat? I thought I could. Could I promise we wouldn’t touch each other? No, and why would it matter? What was so wrong with us touching each other? I shook my head. “I’ll sit up front.”
Nicky squeezed my hand. “You’re the boss, not him.”
“Yeah, but I can’t promise him we won’t let the touching get out of hand, Nicky. He’s right about that.” I searched his face, and the only thing I saw there was need, almost hunger. This was the longest I’d ever been away from Nicky since he came to St. Louis. I thought about it; was this the longest I’d ever been away from home since Jean-Claude and I had been dating? I stood there holding Nicky’s hand and feeling it like an anchor in all this mess. If it had been Jean-Claude, or Micah, holding my hand, how much worse would the draw have been? Was I more than homesick? Was it more than just not feeding the ardeur that had caused the tree limb to hurt me so badly, and caused me to need sex to heal? Was it literally not being home with Jean-Claude and the other men that was affecting how well I healed?
I stood there holding Nicky’s hand and feeling better than I’d felt in days, or was that just my imagination? I wasn’t sure, and the fact that I couldn’t tell said something, too. Shit.