But I Need You (This Love Hurts 2)

My amusement is a short but deep rumble in my chest. Her hips sway slightly and I pat the bed next to me, getting her attention.

I wait for her as she walks slowly to the very end of the bed and sits. I’m well aware she can see me, really see me if she looked up. Her eyes would have adjusted to the dark by now. My pulse races and just as she’s about to, just as her thick lashes raise, I tell her to go turn off the light first.

“Turn it off and come back.” She hums and doesn’t hesitate to rise from the bed, making a soft groan.

She can’t see me yet. Not yet, not just yet. Panic flows through my veins as the floor creaks with her gentle movements and she turns off the sole light that was on in the bathroom.

“So you are an angel of death?” she asks as the light disappears with a soft click.

“I don’t decide, though? Do I?” I say to her, bringing her attention back to the conversation as she comes back to me like the good girl she is.

“They’re going to die, regardless. I simply pull strings so it flows easier. So they kill each other and the victims, the ones who would fall pray to them otherwise, are reduced. That’s not so wrong, is it?”

Delilah’s quiet, so silent that I hear the moment the plastic cup, nearly empty now, hits her bottom lip.

“Like your cases. The ones they tampered with and never solved. They made that decision and it led to … whatever it is it leads to …” I debate confessing, but I can’t help myself.

I can practically feel the way her pulse ramps up when I tell her, “I did you a favor, I closed them.”

“This isn’t the game we play,” Delilah says, not asking about the cases I know she seeks answers to for refuge. I should have known better. She doesn’t care about those cases right now. Not in the least. There’s only one murder on her mind. “Did she do it because he hit her? Can you tell me that?” Back to her mother …

No. The answer is there on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t bring myself to say it. Then I would have to tell her. And that’s a depressing conversation for another day.

“If your mother had pressed charges, what do you think would have happened?”

“He wouldn’t have been found guilty. He would have kept it quiet and they would have split.” Tears muffle her words.

“Not to him … to her. What would have happened to her?” I have to remind the disappointment in me that she’s too close to it and too uncertain of so many things. Too conflicted like Cody can be. It’s not her fault that she didn’t think of the other piece. No one ever thinks of the other one. The victim and what’s left behind. As if a punishment makes those wrongs all right.

Her inhale is quicker, louder, but she remains silent.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Finally. We agree on something tonight. The pieces are in motion, and there’s nothing left to do but allow the dominoes to fall.

Before I can relish in leaving this conversation alone for the night, Delilah stands, readying herself to leave perhaps. But first she tosses the empty cup into the small bin by the desk. “Thank you for … covering for my mother.”

“And for you,” I remind her, suddenly feeling hotter than I’d like.

My fingers itch, eager to keep her here. Again, they skip across the sheet, this time with more desperation.

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” I say, barely getting out the words. Even though it’s nearly pitch black and the sounds from beyond the door fill the silence with both the chirps of crickets and the rushing of cars passing along the road, all I can hear is my heart beating as she crosses her arms against her chest.

At the sight of her breasts rising, my cock stiffens.

“I owe you,” she tells me, but she already owes me more than she could imagine.

“You do,” I say, agreeing with her admission and my tone gives her pause.

The day she came into that barn is the day he stopped. Every monster has a boundary. Look at what good came from such an awful man. At first, my fascination was simply due to watching out for her. She was his keeper in a way and I had so much to learn from him.

But it grew to be more. I don’t know how or why.

I had a chance to kill him years ago, and didn’t. So many chances and at some point I had to admit, I allowed him to live because of her.

I settled on a threat instead. The fool should have never set out to pick up his old habit.