Her eyes widened but she didn’t say anything.
“She died three years ago.” I forced the words out, hating the sound of them on my lips and the feel of them on my skin.
She still didn’t say anything. Just watched and waited.
“She was raped and murdered.” More filthy words out of my mouth.
“You’ve been dreaming about her, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Bad dreams?” Her voice was soft, coaxing.
“Yes.”
“Oh, baby,” she murmured as her arms came around me, and pulled me to her.
I let her hold me, but my arms stayed by my side. I was unable to hold Layla while talking about Ashley.
Fuck.
She let me go and said, “Tell me about her.”
I stared at her.
I can’t do this.
I rubbed my hand over my face. “I’ve gotta get to work,” I muttered, trying desperately to fight through the haze.
“Don’t do this, please, “ she begged on a whisper.
“I can’t . . . ” My voice was a strangled mess as I fought the emotions pressing against me.
Fuck.
I finished dressing and sat on the bed to put my boots on.
I didn’t look at her.
I couldn’t.
I stood, and walked to the door. Pausing, I said, “I’ll call you.”
And then I left without waiting for her response and without a backwards glance.
***
“Onyx took care of Phil,” Merrick advised me an hour later.
I sat in my office chair, staring out the window at the river, a million thoughts racing through my mind. Turning to him, I
said, “Good.”
“Said he would have preferred for it to be more than just a chat.”
I nodded. “Yeah, there’s no love lost between those two, but we need Phil alive so he can sort this shit out for us.”
“I’m sure we could have come up with an alternative plan.”