the contemplation. Her discomfort returns tenfold.
She backtracks to the sink, cleans the sewing needle with the liquor, then returns to pour the liquid over my wound, bringing another slap of pain-induced clarity.
A wet path trails down my neck, my chest, my back. For all I know, I look like an oiled-up stripper on ladies’ night. But I remain on my knees, keeping silent as she begins to tentatively stitch my wound.
“Tell me if you need me to stop.”
“I’m good.” I actually want her to quit being gentle and just slaughter the ever-loving fuck out of my skull. Her delicate fingers are only causing more issues. The soft brush of her touch is enough to make me twitch. “Does Tobias always float like that?”
She nods. “He could lay there for hours. And some days, he does. I think it’s his form of meditation.”
I lower my voice. “Does he know what happened?”
Her stitching ceases, her fingers paused on my scalp.
“He knows.” She leans back to give me a pointed look. “I told him his father’s death was an accident. That despite how confident and capable Luther was with a gun, it didn’t matter when he stumbled around the edge of the sofa and fell.” She shrugs. “He knows his father shot himself with his own gun.”
I keep my mouth shut, not wanting to dissolve the cease-fire between us by telling her that story won’t hold up for long. Once the shock wears off, the kid is going to realize there were too many gunshots for an accident. It was a fucking battlefield out there.
Then again, maybe that’s her plan—to appease Tobias’s concerns while he’s here, but make him question Cole later.
“What about Chris?” I mouth.
Her face hardens. “He knows the truth about Chris, too.”
I raise a brow, silently asking what truth she’s referring to.
“I told him I killed Chris.” She returns to her stitching, tugging the thread harder than necessary, not subtle at all in her request to cut the topic of conversation.
I don’t push any further. We’ve come a long way in the last hour.
I’ve seen her hope and glimpsed the tiniest bit of her trust.
I won’t fuck that up.
“I think I’m done.” She leans in, inspecting her handiwork. “I just need to cut the thread.”
I bow my head, giving her closer access. “Just use your teeth.”
Her breathing hitches. It’s only subtle. The barest hint of sound. And I can’t help wishing I could hear it in a different context. From pleasure, not fear.
She hesitates long enough for the silence to become awkward. Uncomfortable. I lock every muscle, not wanting the barest twinge to spook her and still she doesn’t move.
I’m about to straighten when she lunges toward me, the tension on the string pulled tight before a twang announces she’s followed my order.
Her retreat is swift. The slide of her steps moving toward the vanity, the rush of water letting me know she’s washing her hands.
I hide a smile from my lips as I drag myself to my feet, making sure to keep my distance as I turn to the mirror. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She doesn’t meet my gaze. Not once as she shuts off the taps and backs away.
Her visual disconnect doesn’t stop me from staring at her though. I barely drag my gaze away as I take her place at the sink and cup water in my hands to splash over my face and head.
“You should probably try to keep it dry for a while.” She wipes her hands on her stained pants, keeping her attention downcast. “I don’t know a lot about infection, but I think moisture doesn’t help.”
“I’ll make sure to do that.” I will her to look at me. To trust me. I do it for so long it seems as though a day passes in the thickened silence until footsteps sound in the distance.
“Luca?” Cole calls from the bedroom. “Where are you?”
Penny’s attention snaps to mine, her eyes flaring before she rushes to the tub.
Fuck.
“The bathroom.” I grab the towel stashed beneath the numerous T-shirts I brought in for the kid and lob it at her. “Here. Dry him off with this.”
She catches the plush material and spreads it wide as Tobias splashes to his feet.
“Don’t panic.” She smiles at the boy, the expression fake as she wraps him in the towel. “We’re safe, remember?”
Her rigidity doesn’t fade as Cole comes to stand in the doorway, Hunt and Decker flanking him from behind.
For a while, nobody speaks. None of them have to. Their visual accusation