Rock Redemption (Rock Revenge Trilogy 3)
My driver Frank didn’t balk, nor did he joke, which was rare for him. We weren’t buddies yet, but we weren’t enemies either. With my current track record, anything other than physical violence or threats of death felt like a hug.
Not that I didn’t deserve what was coming to me. It was just harder to accept the coldness from all directions than I’d even guessed.
Especially when it came to the woman sitting beside me in the back seat of the car, her gaze fixated out the window and her hands tightly clasped in her lap.
“Whatever you say, boss. You need a pickup?”
I started to say no—wishful thinking, really, since the graffiti on the wall said all I needed to know—when Zoe interrupted.
“Give him two hours,” she said quietly, not looking at me.
“There you have it.” I tried to sound cheerful, for no reason I could discern.
Just another mask I wore. Anyone could see the marks on my throat or hear the rasp in my voice. I couldn’t hide those realities any more than I could pretend Zoe was shooing me out because she was tired and wanted some sleep.
She wanted a rest, all right, but it wouldn’t be improved with eight hours of shuteye.
Frank flashed me a glance in the rearview mirror. It was rife with pity. “I’ll be back.” His soft promise was nearly enough to make me bow my head in gratitude.
I’d be riding back to my motel, but at least I wouldn’t be alone.
Not entirely.
I trailed Zoe inside without making any of my usual comments about security or the nearness of the beach or anything else. None of that was appropriate.
What was appropriate between us now, other than goodbye?
 
; She tapped her code into the keypad and we walked up the hallway in the same silence we’d entered the building with. She unlocked her door and stepped inside, almost immediately undoing her hair from its braids. Thick rivulets of blond and purple hair spilled down her back as she moved toward her small kitchenette. She opened the refrigerator and took out a jug of sweet tea before pouring some into a glass. Then she reached into a cupboard for a bottle of Crystal Head vodka.
Since she’d never before served me alcohol, I could tell this conversation was going to be a doozy.
“I saw you holding a bottle of this in one of the many pictures of you that surfaced online.” She traced the glass skull with an odd sort of detachment. “I wanted to try it, to see what it tastes like. That’s been a problem for me with you since the start. Glass?”
“Please.” I would’ve preferred to swig it straight from the bottle, but I feared I wouldn’t be able to swallow—and not just because of my brother’s penchant for trying to kill me.
She took a glass down for me and set it down without pouring my drink. Instead of doing the honors myself, I just clutched the skull against my belly, probably looking as if I was a boy in search of comfort. It wasn’t far from the truth.
“I’m sorry. You’ll never know how sorry I am.”
She didn’t speak for a while, just stood and sipped and stared off into the distance. “I believe you,” she said finally. “You didn’t want to hurt me.”
The slight question in her statement nearly broke me. “No. God, no. I would hurt myself a million times over rather than even risk hurting you.”
“Which you did. You could have come clean to me and alleviated your burden at the very least. But that’s what you do, right? Drown in the pain, make the guilt part of your DNA.”
“It was my burden,” I corrected. “And I wouldn’t have come clean to you and made you complicit in what I was involved in. You’re too good to be sullied by the likes of me.”
“That’s for me to decide.” She slammed down her glass and I realized she’d already drained it. “You don’t get to drag me into a world not of my making and then pretend you’re chivalrous by keeping me blindfolded. What if it had been me they’d taken instead of Margo, Ian?”
I shut my eyes. “My worst fear,” I whispered.
“Yeah, and I know that’s what finally made you come clean. I know you care for me, but—”
“I don’t simply care for you. I love you more than my own life. You’ve given me my life. A reason to care about still breathing.”
“And that’s wrong too. It’s all wrong, Ian. Can’t you see that?” She grabbed my forearm, her nails digging in until I had no choice but to open my eyes. “You would have sacrificed yourself and you didn’t even think of me. Didn’t even think about what it would do to me if—” She broke off and threw up a hand when I reached for her. “Don’t. I can’t stand you to touch me right now.”