Already I missed the burden of his stare.
“You have to keep me safe. You can’t let him get to me.” Amber’s pitch crept higher and it was impossible not to feel worked up with her. For her. My skin itched with agitation, and I kept shaking my arms, thinking I’d find something crawling on them but never did.
And Reeve – his expression was stoic and his voice even, but behind his eyes I saw a glimmer of helplessness. “I’ll organize shifts again,” he said, and in that moment I was glad he was there for her, no matter how torn up with jealousy it made me. “You won’t ever be alone.”
The words he’d intended to be comforting only stirred her up more. “No, I don’t want babysitters,” she insisted. “Micha had people watching me all the time. And you.” She paused just long enough for her meaning to punch. “I can’t live like that again.”
I hadn’t put that in perspective before, hadn’t really thought about how she’d gone from Reeve’s prison to Michelis’s. I’d assumed she’d been rebelling against Reeve’s authority when she’d demanded no more attendants the night before. Now I realized she was just trying to grasp at freedom that likely felt fleeting.
Reeve’s expression fell as he absorbed the impact of her statement. “Then I’ll double the guards on the house and at the gate instead. Is that better?” He managed a smile, but it felt strained.
I shifted uncomfortably, wishing I were anywhere else. My emotions and loyalties were tied up in knots. Even as my chest ached with sympathy for Amber, my blood also heated with resentment. She’d left. Reeve had treated her shamefully, but she’d made her own choices after that. Was it fair to add her sins to the load of guilt he already carried?
“That would be better,” she said, snuggling into the crook of his arm. “I feel safe right now. With you here. Don’t leave me, Reeve. Say you won’t leave me.”
I wanted to throw up. I wanted to scream. The best I could get away with was rolling my eyes, and I turned around so that no one would notice.
Except Joe noticed.
I hadn’t realized he was sitting on the arm of the love seat behind me and when I turned, his glare hit me as forcefully as Reeve’s eyes had met mine when I’d walked in.
I groaned inwardly. Everywhere I looked there were thorns.
Well, Joe would probably be easier to deal with than Reeve and Amber.
I crossed over to him. “Did she say anything about Buddy before I got up here?”
“No,” he said, his voice hard. “She’s useless.”
“She’s scared.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen quite a few addicts get ‘scared’ just like that when they wanted a dose of something.”
I gaped, taken aback by the harsh judgment. “She’s received a horrible message from a horrible man. She’s upset!”
“You’ve seen her bruises and scars. I can’t believe this is the worst that Vilanakis has done to her.”
“Which is exactly why she’s scared that he’s back,” I snapped. It was obvious his remarks had more to do with me than with Amber. With the day’s events, the argument I’d had with him the night before seemed petty to me. Apparently, he was holding a grudge.
And I was already cranky. Cranky enough to let him have the fight he seemed to be intent on having.
“Don’t forget you wanted to save her, too,” I hissed, only half-heartedly attempting to keep my voice low.
Joe stood, and I followed when he gestured that we take our conversation to the hallway. “I wanted to get to Vilanakis’s more serious crimes,” he said, when we were outside the room. “I was hoping she’d be more helpful in that department.”
My brows lifted with indignation. “Is that why you’re really still here? Were you hoping that he’d be lured after her? You’re probably ecstatic that you can continue your investigation now.”
He drew back, appalled. “What? That’s not…” He shook his head. “Okay, yes. I was concerned that Vilanakis would come after her. Would come here. So I stayed. But it wasn’t because I wanted to draw him out and it wasn’t for her.”
“Sorry that Amber’s life isn’t meaningful enough for you,” I sputtered, ignoring that he’d implied he’d stayed for me. “Next time I’ll make sure that the person I hire you to save scores high on the Joe Cook barometer of worth.”
He eyed me for a beat, a hint of amusement in his features. “‘Joe Cook barometer of worth’?”
He was mocking me. But hearing him repeat it, I realized it really had been a silly thing to say.
I let out a sigh. “I don’t know what I’m saying. You’re mad at me, and I’m irritated because I really need a friend at the moment.”
“I’m not mad at you, exactly,” he said, suddenly fascinated with the toe of his shoe. “You’re just frustrating.”
“So I’ve been told.” Most recently today, when Reeve said he wanted to tie me up like the calves. I’d probably find that a turn-on if the rest of the conversation hadn’t been so painful.
My chest pinched with the reminder of the heartache I was trying to ignore. I pushed past the urge to cry. “Anyway, I’m sorry for being difficult. I’m sorry for being someone who makes decisions that are rarely wise and generally impossible to understand. That’s kind of the definition of who I am.”
“Nah, I shouldn’t have belittled your feelings like I did.” He lifted his eyes to mine. “And there’s definitely more to the definition of Emily Wayborn than ‘rarely wise and impossible to understand.’”