Black Diamond (Obsidian 2)

I didn’t understand why his name was so offensive, but I didn’t ask.

“If your information is true, then this is our priority. But I’m going to need to see some evidence.”

“How?”

“Show me.”

He wanted me to take him to the different gatherings of the homeless, the ones under the bridges, the ones at the east side of the park, and all the smaller communities scattered across the city. Just him and me. “Sure. Let me know when you’re ready.”

“I’m ready now.” He rose from his chair, coming to his full height. With an expensive watch on his wrist and the black ring on his right hand, he looked like my deepest fantasy. With long legs and powerful arms, he was scorching in his suit. He always made me feel safe even when I didn’t need protection.

I got lost in my thoughts and quickly shook it off, not wanting to make it obvious I was remembering all the nights we’d gotten naked together in his bed. I could feel the way his teeth nicked against my neck when he kissed me, if I closed my eyes and pictured it hard enough. “Do you want me to bring along anyone else?” So we won’t be alone together?

“Your call.” He straightened his suit and headed for the door, staying at least five feet away from me. “But make it quick. I have a lot of work to do.”

I hadn’t spent this much time with Calloway since we went our separate ways. We took cabs to different parts of the city, and once we approached the homeless communities, Calloway knew my information was accurate.

Without taking swabs or running labs, it was obvious the flu had spread to nearly everyone. They were already outside in the cold all day long, so their chances of fighting off the illness were minimal.

When we approached a group, Calloway took the lead and spoke to the men and women as equals, looking them in the eye and even shaking their hands. He pulled out all the cash he had and handed it off to a war veteran who had lost his leg. Like possessions meant nothing to him, he gave everything away.

That was the man I’d fallen in love with.

He kept one eye on me the entire time, coming back to my side when the men stared at me a moment longer than they should. I wasn’t afraid in the least, but Calloway’s protectiveness would never die.

“I think we’re done here.” Calloway came to my side, and his arm immediately wrapped around my waist.

I stilled at the touch.

“Let’s get a cab,” he said into my ear. “Come on.”

I moved with him but still felt uneasy with his hand on me. It was warm and soothing, carrying memories of beautiful nights. But it was also painful, full of affection that I could never receive freely.

He waved down a cab and got me inside before he scooted into the seat beside me. He gave the address to the office, and the cab drove off. The sun had nearly set, and night descended on New York City. Calloway stared out the window the entire drive back, not explaining our sudden departure.

“What’s wrong?”

“One of the men wouldn’t stop looking at you. Made me uncomfortable.”

“They wouldn’t hurt me.”

He turned his gaze on me, his look cold and unforgiving. “You don’t know that, Rome. Never make that assumption. Just because they’re poor and hungry doesn’t mean they’re saints. Don’t make that mistake again.” He looked out the window, dismissing the conversation.

“I can take care of myself, Calloway.” I’d been doing it for a long time before he came along. I would do just fine without him. I’d lived on the streets, begged for food, and had a life just as hard as his. I saw the good in people because I knew it was there—along with all the bad.

He didn’t look at me again. “I never said you couldn’t.”

“You implied it.”

“I’m just giving you a lesson.” He finally turned back to me, his jaw clenched. “By now, I would assume you’ve figured out that not all men are as they appear.” His meaning was just as clear as crystal.

“I guess I’m a slow learner.”

When we returned to the office, everyone had already left for the day. The lights were off, and the monitors were black. I went to my office and grabbed my things, pissed that Calloway had the nerve to say that to me—like he was the one who’d been wronged.

I hated him.

But I still loved him.

And that made me hate him more.

I darted to the elevator as quickly as I could, determined to get out of there so I wouldn’t have to see his obnoxiously handsome face.

But he was already there—waiting for me. He hit the button, and the doors opened.

I hoped this wouldn’t become a habit.