But I can’t quite bring myself to do it. So I don’t respond to his statement, letting him read whatever he wants into my silence on the topic.
Instead, I push up a bit so I can look down at him, watching the shadows on his face shift and change from the light of the TV. I search for something to say and remember the conversation we had that first day when he came with me to my school. It seems like forever ago now, but it’s as good a subject change as any.
“Did you ever have something you wanted to do besides being in a gang?” I ask. “I remember you seemed a little… I don’t know, sad I guess, about not going to school when you took me to mine that first time.”
To my surprise, Levi glances away, looking almost shy and embarrassed at the question. He’s quiet for a minute, and then he licks his lips and looks back up at me. “Yeah. When I was younger I did. I had this dream of being an artist.”
“Really?” My eyebrows shoot up before I can stop them. It’s honestly one of the last things I expected to hear.
Levi nods, his cheeks going a little pink. “Yeah. I love drawing. I always did. I would have studied it in school if I could. Tried to learn more and get to the next level, but…” He shrugs again. “It wasn’t in t
he cards.”
“I had no idea,” I tell him.
“I mean, it’s fine anyway. I still draw when I can, and you know, not all artists have real schooling anyway. Being self-taught is a thing. I have a bunch of sketchpads in my room.”
I think back to when I was snooping through their rooms before, and I can remember seeing a stack of what I assumed at the time were notebooks in Levi’s room. I didn’t look closely at them because I was trying to find stuff that had to do with Black Rose business.
I wonder if the others know about his hobby. Do they support it if they do? Sloan doesn’t seem like the type to encourage hobbies outside of gang related things, but I can’t be sure. Either way, I know Levi just gave me a big piece of himself. He admitted something that was close to his heart, and I’m weirdly grateful.
It’s a big step toward getting him to trust me, proving that the things I’ve been doing to make that happen are working, but that isn’t why I feel so pleased by this revelation.
For once, it doesn’t have anything to do with my attempts to bring the Black Roses down. I’m just happy to know something like this about him.
Sometimes I feel like I’m building images of the three of these men piece by piece in my mind. Sloan is the least fleshed out, although I learned a good bit over dinner. Rory and Levi are almost full pictures, every little thing I learn just adding to the overall image.
Rory and his love for his daughter, Levi and his love of art. They’re people outside of their dedication to the gang, and I know it’s dangerous to think of them like that, but at the same time, it makes me feel warm and pleased to know it. To know them.
Levi reaches up and touches my face with one large, warm hand. He cups my cheek and strokes his thumb over my cheekbone before drawing me down close enough that he can kiss me.
The touch of his lips to mine is getting so familiar, and I sink into it, letting my eyes flutter closed while my mouth moves with his. It’s long and deep and lazy, not going anywhere or sparking another round of sex. Just kissing for the sake of it. Because it feels good and we want to.
And it’s so easy to lose myself in it again, to pause and pull away a bit so I can breathe and then let myself be coaxed back into another kiss.
Eventually, Levi drifts off, falling asleep next to me on the couch. He looks unbothered and comfortable, breathing evenly. It’s late as hell at this point, but whatever comfort I got from the two orgasms has evaporated, and my mind is too full to sleep again.
I keep turning it all over and over in my head—all the bullshit I’ve gotten tangled up in, all the scheming and lies.
I can tell myself I’m doing this to get close enough to my keepers to get what I need, but the softer feelings keep poking their heads in, reminding me that there’s more than revenge going on here.
But none of that matters compared to what I’m supposed to be doing. I catch a glimpse of Levi’s phone on the coffee table, and an idea sparks in my head.
His breathing is even and slow, and I wait a few extra minutes just to be sure before I slowly and carefully reach for his phone. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even stir, and I hold my breath before grabbing the hand that’s hanging half off the couch.
Again, there’s no movement, and I let the breath out and use his fingerprint to unlock the phone.
It lights up, but it’s not bright enough to disturb him. I still turn the screen toward me, making sure none of the light spills onto him. His texting app is right there, and I open it, scrolling through the messages with my heart in my throat.
He could wake up at any second and find me going through his personal messages, which feels like such a betrayal after the conversation we just had. But I have to do it. I have to find something.
There are a few texts to an unsaved number about the Black Roses moving a bunch of money around. Laundering it, basically. The person he was talking to mentions the first name of the accountant that they have handling that for them, and I feel a spike of triumph in the middle of the anxiety.
They’ve had a bunch of cash come in recently from a big deal that went through, apparently, and their accountant is going to launder it for them, according to the messages. The cash is with him.
I scan the messages a few more times, memorizing the info so I can give it to Paul when I see him next.
Levi shifts a little, and my eyes snap to him for a second, peeking to make sure he’s still asleep. After a breathless moment, he settles back down, and I feel my blood start rushing again. I need to stop looking soon before I get caught doing this.