Splinters of You (Retired Sinners MC #1) - Anne Malcom Page 0,77
love with the woman another man was fucking, it was a little predictable for him to hate the man in question.
“You’re friends?” I probed.
“Not quite,” Saint said. “Now, can we stop talkin’ about this bullshit and you start explainin’ what the fuck happened.”
His voice was not at all flat or Saint-like right now. It was up, just a little. Rougher. Like wood that was mangled and would splinter you the second you tried to touch it.
I swallowed the last of my whisky. “I woke up. There was a man in my bedroom. I did not invite him there. He had the vibe he would like to rape and murder me, so I did the latter to him first.” I paused. “Called the police. They arrived. As did the both of you. Disturbingly close arrivals.” I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “And you’re all caught up.”
My voice didn’t shake or falter. I knew both men were listening for that. Yes, they were waiting to be the white knights, save me from myself, or from the shock of what I had to do. That’s why they were here, wasn’t it?
I didn’t need a white knight. I wasn’t my own, that was for sure. But I was going to be okay.
“You got somewhere to go, till all this is done?” Deacon asked, nodding his head toward my room.
I hadn’t thought of that. Of the fact it was the middle of the night, that my house had only one bedroom, and there was currently a dead body in it.
“Yes,” Saint said for me.
I scowled at him, but I did not argue. Not in front of Deacon. I’d save that.
Deacon nodded once. “Good. Keep in touch. I’ll expect you back for whisky.”
“Oh, you can guarantee that now,” I replied.
He grinned, then his face turned blank. Scared, almost. “Glad you’re okay, Magnolia.” Then, he surprised me and himself by leaning in to kiss my head.
Normally, such a patronizing gesture would have me spitting acid, but I let it happen.
Then he left.
Saint wasted no time.
“You’re stayin’ at my place.”
I glanced around at the police, the tape, the people traipsing through my home. The second time the tape had gone up, blood had been spilled, corpses photographed.
Was it cursed?
Was I?
I glanced back up to Saint. He wasn’t looking at everything else around him. Just focused on me. Not concerned at all. Determined. To get his way, most likely.
“To be clear, I’m only agreeing because of your coffeemaker. And your view.” I paused. “And your cooking skills.” Another pause. “Plus, your oral skills.”
There it was. The smallest mouth tick. Almost a smile. A laugh, if you measured it against his barometers for human emotion.
Then he got hold of himself. His lips straightened back into a thin line. “The last one is the only reason I’m inviting you over.”
I blinked. My own mouth turned up without my control. I hadn’t expected the teasing, even if it came straight-faced and flat-toned. I liked it. It calmed me just a little, the fact he wasn’t treating me with any kind of care.
He didn’t, throughout the interview that was quick, efficient, and kind. The chief was a good man. He told me he’d call me when they were done. I didn’t give him my number but I was sure he’d call me.
Saint didn’t ask what I wanted or what I needed when we got to his place. The ride was silent, which I was happy for. A story was brewing. I was aware that brewing a story when I should’ve been having some kind of moral crisis over the fact I’d ended someone’s life wasn’t normal.
We walked into the kitchen and he got glasses, a wine bottle, and opener.
“Open,” he said. “Then pour. Then sit.”
I stared at him. “I do know the steps required to put wine into glasses.”
“Good, then do it.”
Then he turned, not giving me a chance to spew some venom. Instead, I opened the wine, poured it, and sat down. And then I watched him cook mac and cheese. Something I didn’t think I’d ever see him cook, and definitely not something I’d see myself eating.
But I did.
Eat it.
Still no words. Not until the dishes were done—by Saint, and more wine was poured—by me.
We moved to the sofa. It was a good sofa. The fire was roaring. The night was lurking outside.
“You killed a man,” Saint said, staring at the windows, then to me.