‘It’s about time you let go.’ Briskly, he scooped her into his arms and carried her up to the bed. ‘You’ll feel better for it.’ He kept her cradled in his arms, stroked her hair. Whenever she cried, he thought, it was a storm, a passionate tumult. Rarely were there a few easy, quiet tears for Eve. Rarely was anything easy for Eve.
‘This isn’t helping,’ she managed.
‘Yes, it is. You’ll purge some of that misplaced guilt and some of the grief you’re entitled to. You’ll think more clearly tomorrow.’
She was down to shuddering breaths and a raging headache. ‘I have to work tonight. I’m going to run some names and scenarios for probability.’
No, he thought quite calmly, she won’t. ‘Take a minute. Get something to eat.’ Before she could protest, he was shifting her aside and moving to the AutoChef. ‘Even your admirable system needs fuel. And there’s a story I want to tell you.’
‘I can’t waste time.’
‘It won’t be wasted.’
Fifteen minutes, she thought, as the scent of something glorious wafted toward her. ‘Let’s make it a quick meal and a short story, okay?’ She rubbed at her eyes, not sure if she was ashamed or relieved to have let the cork pop and spew out the tears. ‘Sorry I blubbered on you.’
‘I’m always available for blubbering.’ He came toward her with a steaming omelette and a cup. He sat down, stared into her swollen, exhausted eyes. ‘I adore you.’
She flushed. It seemed he was the only one who could bring embarrassed color to her cheeks. ‘You’re trying to distract me.’ She took the plate and a fork. ‘That kind of stuff always does, and I can never get my tongue around what I should say back.’ She sampled the eggs. ‘Maybe something like you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.’
‘That’ll do.’
She lifted the cup, started to sip, then scowled. ‘This isn’t coffee.’
‘It’s tea, for a change. A soothing blend. I imagine you’re overloaded on caffeine.’
‘Maybe.’ Because the eggs were fabulous and she didn’t have the energy to argue, she took a sip. ‘It’s nice. Okay, what’s the story?’
‘You’ve wondered why I keep Summerset, even when he’s . . . less than solicitous to you.’
She snorted. ‘You mean even though he hates my fucking guts. Your business.’
‘Our business,’ he corrected.
‘Anyway, I don’t want to hear about him right now.’
‘It’s actually more about me, and an incident that you might find correlates with what you’re feeling right now.’ He watched her drink again, calculated he had just enough time to tell the tale. ‘When I was very young, and still in Dublin on the street, I hooked up with a man and his daughter. The little girl was, well, an angel, gold and rose with the sweetest smile on either side of heaven. They ran confidence games, superbly. Short cons for the most part, bilking foolish marks and making a reasonable living. At that time, I was doing somewhat the same myself, but I liked variety, and enjoyed picking pockets and organizing floating games. My father was still alive when I met Summerset - though he didn’t go by that name then - and his daughter, Marlena.’
‘So, he was a con,’ she said between bites. ‘I knew there was something shifty about him.’
‘He was quite brilliant. I learned a lot from him, and I like to think he from me. In any case, after one particularly enthusiastic beating from my dear old da, he happened to find me unconscious in an alley. He took me in. He took care of me. There was no money for a doctor, and I didn’t have a medical card. What I did have was a few broken ribs, a concussion, and a fractured shoulder.’
‘I’m sorry.’ The image brought back others, ones that dried up the spit in her mouth. ‘Life sucks.’
‘It did. Summerset was a man of many talents. He had some medical training. He often used an MT disguise in his work. I wouldn’t go so far as to say he saved my life. I was young and strong and used to it, but he certainly kept me from suffering needlessly.’
‘You owe him.’ Eve set the empty plate aside. ‘I understand. It’s all right.’
‘No, that’s not it. I owed him. I paid him back. There were times he owed me. After my father met his unmourned end, we became partners. Again, I wouldn’t say he raised me, I took care of myself, but he gave me what might be considered a family. I loved Marlena.’
‘The daughter.’ She had to shake her head to clear it. ‘I’d forgotten. Hard to picture that dried up old fart as a father. Where is she?’
‘She’s dead. She was fourteen. I was sixteen. We’d been together, more or less, for about six years. One of my gambling projects was turning a tidy profit, and it came to the attention and the disapproval of a small, particularly violent syndicate. They felt I was cutting into their territory. I felt I was carving out my own. They threatened. I was arrogant enough to ignore them. Once or twice they tried to get their hands on me, to teach me respect, I imagine. But I was difficult to catch. And I was gaining power, even prestige. I was certainly making money. Enough that between us we were able to buy a small, very decent flat. And somewhere along the way, Marlena fell in love with me.’
He paused, looking down at his own hands, remembering, regretting. ‘I cared for her a great deal, but not as a lover. She was beautiful, and unbelievably innocent, despite the life we led. I didn’t think of her romantically, but as a man - because I was a man already - might think of a perfect piece of art: romantically. Never sexually. She had different ideas, and one night she came into my room and rather sweetly, and terrifyingly, offered herself to me. I was appalled, furious, and scared to the bones. Because I was a
man, and therefore, tempted.’
His lifted his gaze to Eve’s again, and there was storm in them. ‘I was cruel to her, Eve, and sent her away shattered. She was a child, and I devastated her. I’ve never forgotten the look on her face. She trusted me, believed in me, and I, by doing what was right, betrayed her.’