Last Hit(35)
“My darling Daisy, I have confessions to make.” Her beautiful face shows only trust and belief. I am so humbled by her love and wonder what I have done, ever, to deserve such a marvel.
“I know you do.” She smiles and curls a hand around my neck, pulling me to her for another wet kiss that makes my body roil with heat and desire. I can hardly think when she touches me, when her lush frame is pressed against mine. I settle between her legs, pushing my heavy arousal into her.
“Where shall I start?” I murmur against her cheek.
“How about with why you followed me to Christine’s?”
Jerking back, I stare at her in surprise. “You knew then?”
“Of course I knew. I always know that you are with me. Why don’t you just come and walk beside me?”
“Because I am trying not to stifle you.”
“You’re still following me.”
“It is my compromise. I cannot allow you to be hurt, but I try not to interfere.”
She tugs me down, and I lay my head against her breasts and am comforted by the steady, even heartbeat.
“I know. It’s why I’m not mad at you.” Her fingers run through my hair, petting me as if I am her lap dog. And I am. I am her fierce protector, and her warm body heating the sheets at night.
“This girl.” I pause, searching for the right words. “She matters to you.”
Her nails lightly scratch my scalp. I close my eyes and lean into her caress and feel the deep sigh that fills and then empties from her body. “She reminds me of myself. Trapped in a situation, and she doesn’t know how to get out of it. My father only hit me once, slapped me, but he hurt me in many other ways. I love him and it was hard to leave. I think Christine is like that. She loves Saul and is afraid to leave him.”
“I can easily dispose of him.” Another time this statement may have been true, but now with Detective McFadden watching me, perhaps it might pose a greater difficulty. For once, I am at a loss at what to do. I fear I am placing Daisy in danger with my mere presence.
If I were not here, there would be no inquiry into her father’s illness, the junkie’s death, or my mysterious beginnings. Yet I cannot bring myself to leave her. I am so selfish. I desire to be with her more than I desire to live, yet could I look at her without shame if I allowed her father to be arrested or for me to bring danger to her doorstep?
“You’re tensing up,” she notes. “Tell me the rest of it.”
With no small measure of unhappiness, I relate the encounter with Detective McFadden. “He is wary of me and disturbed that the person I pretend to be is not one that is identifiable. He asked about your father. The man we killed.”
She scowls. “That man deserved to die. I wish I had shot him, too.”
“Shhh,” I caution. “I do not want you to admit these things. They should remain in your heart, not given voice.”
“I don’t want spend my life hiding, and I don’t want you to leave me for my own good.”
I am glad my face is buried in her breasts so she cannot see my grimace and guilt. “Then what shall we do?”
“Find the shooter. Get rid of Saul. Save Christine.”
“There are many Christines in this world, kotehok.”
“Maybe,” she shrugs. “But Christine is the one I know of. She’s the one I can help.”
Chapter 13
Daisy
My world has always felt a little small. Focused. When I lived trapped with my father, I existed in a bubble of approved television, approved clothing, approved books, approved everything. My world was narrow. When I ran away and met Nick, my world expanded, perhaps a bit too much. There was so much to take in, to see, to do, to feel, that I think sometimes I shrink back into my cocoon when I’m agitated.
Like I’m doing right now.
“Daisy,” Nick says softly as he enters the kitchen. “How many cookies do you make for us?”
I vigorously stir the cookie dough with my wooden spoon. “I thought you said you liked cookies.”
“Da,” Nick says with a chuckle. He pries the bowl from my hands. “I like cookies. I like two or three of them, not three hundred.”
Guiltily, I let him take the bowl from me. “I’m sorry. I just . . . need to keep busy.”
He drops the bowl into the sink without a care that there’s good cookie batter going to waste, or that it’s probably going to clog the sink unless I use a lot of hot water to rinse it out right away. That’s the thing with Nick—he’s utterly careful with me and utterly careless with our apartment. I find it adorable and frustrating at the same time. But his attention turns back to me and he pulls me into his arms. “You are worried, are you not? You are not good at hiding these things, kotehok.”