Cash,” I said. “We missed that part at the cemetery.”
“You were too busy scaring people, that’s why we missed that part.”
“I wasn’t being quiet. You’ve seen my feet.”
She looked down and then her eyes flew up, catching my grin and scowling at it. A flush crept up her neck and stained her cheeks red.
“They’re big and not ashamed of it.” I winked. “You were lost in thought. That’s why you didn’t hear me.”
“Cemetery?” Harry Boy said, his eyes moving between the two of us. “You met at the cemetery? When was this, Kee?”
“When I went to visit Roisin on the day she died.” She looked at him. “Your boss scared the shit out of me.”
“I wasn’t his boss then,” I said. “And our meeting was happenstance.”
“Happenstance,” she repeated, like she didn’t believe me.
Good. She shouldn’t. My feelings told me she knew that. Something also told me that she’d thought about me since then. And she hated it. She loathed that I had somehow entered her mind, sifting through her thoughts for the most valuable ones, and marauding things she fought to keep—her time and attention, two of the most valuable things to a person.
I saw the way she was with Stone. Bored. And he had nothing in his eyes but floating fucking hearts when he looked at her. There was something off about the entire situation. Why she was settling for someone who didn’t do a thing for her was a mystery. But when she was around him, she played her part well.
She wanted to be an actress on Broadway. She acted every second they were together.
Her…softness when it came to him worked out well for me to a certain degree, though I knew when pressed—and she would be soon—it was only going to make her hard and more determined to see her resolve for Stone through. Like a child.
Too bad I refused to entertain the notion of reverse psychology, or this might be fucking easy.
Harry Boy cleared his throat, and I realized that the archer and me were staring at each other. “Staring” was a stretch on her end. She was aiming arrows at my head through telepathic wavelengths.
“You seem to have a strong dislike of me, Ms. Ryan,” I said. “I didn’t realize I shook you so hard at the cemetery. Next time I walk through, I’ll go through singing a song.”
“Oh, cute. An Irishman who can sing!” She made a noise that didn’t hide her anger. Her neck was patched with red, and so were her cheeks. “I don’t know you enough not to like you, but that never stopped me before. I don’t like the smell of bullshit that hovers around you when you come close—”
“Keely,” Harry Boy cut her off. But it wasn’t harsh. He was more afraid of her than he was of me.
“Don’t ‘Keely’ me,” she said. “There’s something off about this guy. He’s all charming when you invite him into your home, until he comes back later in the night to steal.”
“That’s why they call me ‘the marauder’ on the streets. I take whatever I want.”
Blunt. There it was. Take it as you fucking please.
Quiet came for a stretch of time after.
Then, all of a sudden, she let out a rush of hot hair, setting her hands on her fine hips. If they were street curves, they’d be labeled deadly. “I don’t have time for this!” she hissed. Then she turned toward a man coming toward her with a bow and a quiver full of arrows. The feathers of the fletches were all green—a real jealous color. The color hovered around her, like it did the arrows.
“Time to start,” the man told her.
She settled the quiver on her back and took the bow like it was a toy. She gave me one last scathing look before she turned to go.
I watched her walk away from me, admiring her ass. I had seen it one night while Scott Stone fucked her up against the window in his apartment. The curtains had been pushed to the side, and it was a gorgeous sight, like a full moon on a dark night.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She stopped abruptly when I caught up to her a second later.
Scottish drums had started beating in the background, and I knew whatever she was about to do would be good. I wanted to see her in this setting, making those arrows fly with sharp precision.