King Among the Dead - Lauren Gilley Page 0,12

the trunk of the Jag, save the one containing her new phone, already set up with her name and password, and added to Beck’s plan, on her lap on the way home. Funny how after only twenty-four hours it was home. Nowhere else had ever been.

“Beck, thank you.” It felt woefully insufficient.

“You’re very welcome.”

The wipers beat a steady tempo across the windshield; faint house lights glimmered in the water beading along the windows.

“I don’t know how I can – I can never–”

His hand settled over the back of hers where it rested on the console between them. The skin was warm and soft – save a pattern of calluses at the base of each finger; one rough spot on his palm that left her thinking of the knife again. “If you’re wanting to repay me, there’s no need,” he said, squeezing her fingers lightly. “I wanted to do this.”

When she glanced toward him, he took his gaze briefly off the road to send her a smile. That smile was as dangerous as his knife, she thought with a little lurch.

“I don’t – I’m not.” She sighed, frustrated with the way the sentiments got tangled up with the longing that sat lodged behind her breastbone. None of his kindness was earned, but she wanted it. Oh, how she wanted it. “I didn’t do anything to deserve this.”

His brows tucked low before he turned his attention back to the road. “I don’t think kindness and help are things you have to deserve, Rose.” He paused. “Retribution, though. Vengeance. Punishment. Those you earn the hard way, and it’s usually well-deserved.”

She thought of the knife again. The blood flecks on his nose.

No, she still didn’t feel worthy of any of this – but she couldn’t disagree with him on the latter sentiment.

~*~

Back at the townhouse, Rose went upstairs to stow away her new things and found a stack of freshly-washed towels on the sink in the bathroom.

“I did some laundry today,” Kay said when she joined her and Beck in the kitchen. The old woman’s eyes brightened. “Well, look at you. You clean up nice.”

Rose’s face heated again, like it had at the store. “Thank you.” She’d washed her face, tied her hair back with a new elastic, and changed into new jeans and a sweater. Was wearing her new sneakers. She didn’t look like the woman in white she’d seen at Steinman’s – could never imagine herself in such an elegant ensemble – but the new, clean clothes, and the faint lavender of her new perfume had gone a long way toward boosting her confidence.

Beck stood at the counter, sweater sleeves pushed back, knife in one hand and an onion in the other. “Lovely,” he said, giving her a quick survey. “Can you come and chop this onion for me?”

Together, they made pasta in a light cream sauce with sautéed chicken and mushrooms while Kay sat at the island, smoking cigarettes and chatting. Beck responded in mmhms and yeses, the occasional comment thrown in, while he directed Rose’s efforts toward the recipe, and complimented her competency in the kitchen.

“Did you do the cooking at Tabby’s?”

“Yes.” She cross-sectioned the mushroom in neat lines, amazed by the sharpness of his knife compared to the dull things at Tabitha’s. “But we never had ingredients this nice.”

Kay let out a smoky chuckle. “It don’t matter if all the vegetables are hydroponic: you got money like Beck, you can get as much as you want.”

“Hush,” Beck chided without heat. “Fill that pot and we’ll get the pasta started,” he instructed Rose.

The kitchen was warm, and full of delicious smells, the lamplight golden and cozy. As Rose poured a box of penne noodles into the boiling water, she realized with a start that she was smiling to herself, perhaps crazily. That she was happy.

~*~

She and Kay washed the dishes again, after dinner. Beck had gone off to his study with another bow, like this morning.

“He’s a strange bird, that one,” Kay said when he was out of earshot, his footfalls long faded. “Don’t you think?”

Rose paused a moment, then circled the sponge on the plate again. “No.”

“Oh, I don’t mean it as an insult, honey. I love him like he was my own son. But you’d think he’d invest in a dishwasher, you know?”

Rose had wondered, given the obvious state of wealth, but hadn’t dared ask. And, besides, there was something soothing about the warm water and suds and safety of simple tasks like washing plates.

“He doesn’t mind spending