Untitled Book 2(42)
I scan the list and memorize the three names. “So you’re on top of this, then?”
He nods. “You just do what you’re doing and keep her safe. And it pains me to say this, but don’t tell me what you’re doing with her. I have a leak and I have no idea where it’s coming from.”
“The fuck?” I growl, hands clenching. “You need to handle that shit, Talon.”
“I’m on it,” he replies, then lowers his voice. “And tell her about her father.”
“I’m not telling her that he tried to use her as a cop-out,” I tell him. “She doesn’t need to know that shit, it will kill her.”
There’s no way she’s going to find out. Let her think her father died loving her more than anything, trying to protect her from the shit he caused in the first place.
“I agree,” Talon says, sitting down in the chair next to me. “Just keep that part to yourself, and I’ll do the same.”
“We done here, then? Or is there anything else I need to know?” I ask him, my gaze going back to the piece of paper in front of me.
“I think for now, we’re done.” He stands up, and I eye him curiously.
“You aren’t going to say anything about me and Shay?” I ask, standing and bracing myself for another fight. “You told me to keep my hands off her, and I didn’t. I’m surprised you didn’t start with that.”
He walks to the door, turns, and flashes me a grin. “Shay now has the protection of the Wind Dragons. Why would I be angry at that?”
He leaves and I stare at the door.
Motherfucker.
He wanted this to happen.
No, he’d counted on it.
I consider finding him and punching him in the face for playing with us, but does it really matter how I got Shay? The important thing is that I have her.
Sin was right though—Talon is more of a smart, manipulative bastard than we give him credit for.
* * *
“What are you doing?” I ask Shay when I return to the room and find her standing on a chair, dusting the windows.
“Cleaning your room,” she says, not looking at me.
“Our room,” I correct, approaching her. She turns around, sees my cut lip and scowls.
“No fighting, my ass. What happened?”
The concern in her voice is palpable. Little does she know she’s about to have more important things on her mind than Talon getting in one hit on me. I don’t want to tell her, but I know I have to. How the fuck do I bring this up though? By the way, your father is dead? I’m sure he loved her, he did care for her and apparently dote on her; maybe toward the end he just got desperate. People do anything when they’re trying to save themselves. Anything. They don’t care about other people when they’re that low, struggling to get up. How am I supposed to ask her about the work she did for him, when I have to tell her that he’s dead? Fuck, I don’t know at all how to handle this in a gentle way.
“There was a punch or two, that’s all,” I say, lifting her off the chair by her waist and placing her on the floor. She reaches up and touches my split lip, making me wince. “It’s fine.”
“What happened?” she asks, wrapping her tiny arms around my hips. I sit down on the bed and lift her onto my lap.
“I have some bad news,” I start, clearing my throat. Who am I kidding? I don’t have the fuckin’ tact for this. I’m just going to blurt it out and she’s probably going to go into shock.
“What is it?” she asks, cupping my face with her hands when I stay silent. “Is Talon okay? Oh my god, did you knock him out or something? Is he in the hospital?”
She really can be dramatic at times.
“Talon is fine.” For now. “He did tell me some bad news about your father though.”
Bad news?
I could kill myself.
“Bad news” was her father having to stay an extra year in prison or something, not that he was dead as a doornail.
“What is it?” she asks, warily, her brow furrowing.
Fuck.
I just need to say it, not drag it out.
“He’s uhhh . . .” Fuck. “He’s dead, Shay. I’m sorry. He was killed in prison.”
She freezes and stares at me in confusion as if she doesn’t understand what I’m saying.
“He’s dead?”
I nod.
Her bottom lip trembles.
“Oh my god,” she whispers.
And then she cries.