Vicious Rebel (82 Street Vandals #2) - Heather Long Page 0,42

spark of personality for what should be an almost institutional room.

Everything had a place, and everything was in it. I couldn’t imagine anything further from Rome. He was more controlled chaos, and this was precise, orderly lines where nothing should be left out of place. I didn’t even want to mess up the sofas or the chairs by disturbing their lines.

As he made his way through the room, Rome hit various buttons—one turned on another set of lights, one in the galley kitchen with the black marble floors and another that illuminated the workout equipment in the corner. A treadmill, weight bench, and what looked like a rowing machine waited for their next occupant. The vertical blinds along the windows retracted until the natural light from outside filtered through what had to be double-paned and treated glass.

The light couldn’t blaze through, so it wouldn’t fade the carpet, but if it was like the stuff on…well, like the stuff I’d seen before, it would also prevent others from seeing inside at night, even when the lights were on.

“Tea or coffee?” Rome asked abruptly, and I twisted to find him standing in the kitchen doorway. He eyed me for a moment. “Take off the coat and the shoes. Go take a shower. I’ll find you clean and warmer clothes, then put those through the washer and dryer.”

He didn’t wait for my response before he disappeared into the kitchen. I wanted to argue, but I was freezing and needed a minute.

Maybe I needed more than a minute.

“Okay.”

There was only one hallway, so I followed it down to find two rooms. They were both bedrooms, so I just eeny meeny miny moe’d the choice and finally took the door on the left. Like the living room, it had a wall of windows looking out over the city.

The bed in the center was huge, and there was more abstract art over the bed itself. Then a pair of framed photos on the bedside table. I resisted the urge to snoop, but I did take off the motorcycle jacket and set it down on the foot of the bed.

It was the single messiest thing in the room. The covers had been tossed back like whoever slept there just rolled out of bed and left. The bathroom door was ajar, and I flipped on the light switch.

It was as clean and modern as the rest of the apartment. Dark walls, dark tile, and bright lights gave it the atmosphere of a cave but a warm one, like a kind of sanctuary, and the counter was clean and neat.

After swinging the water on inside the oversized glass shower stall, I stripped out of the clothes I had on. There was some blood on my leg, and I froze at the sight of it. I didn’t think I’d gotten blood on my pants. I picked up my shoes and inspected them carefully. Nothing jumped out, but there was another spot on my socks.

A shudder of revulsion went through me, and I hurriedly pulled off the rest before rushing under the hot water. I didn’t even care if it scalded my too cold skin, I just closed my eyes and braced my hands on the wall as the water poured over me.

The pressure was amazing. The heat began to seep into my bones, and the spill of water hid the tears escaping from the corners of my eyes as the shakes took me.

We’d killed someone.

Again.

I counted myself in on the action because I’d been in the middle of that fight when Rome came in. The man had been there for me. If not for me, then Rome wouldn’t have had to kill him.

The violent trembling worked its way up and down my body. Eventually, even when the cold was gone and the shaking subsided, I lifted my head and glanced around for the shampoo.

The first dollop to hit my hand smelled of cloves, mint, and something distinctly male.

This was Liam’s place.

A weird little laugh eddied through me as I began to work the shampoo into my hair. Liam lived large compared to the other Vandals. But they didn’t always seem to treat him like he was one. Not that I wanted to pretend I understood any of it.

In no time, I’d washed and conditioned my hair. I didn’t know why he had conditioner, but I didn’t intend to ask. Maybe he entertained overnight guests and he was a fucking gentleman. Or maybe I was just a snob, but most of