“Or what? Or you’ll blackmail me with that McNeil business? Go ahead and try. You made a mistake tipping your hand, Walsh. I will not back off until I have Olivia. Let me offer the same advice. Cut your losses. Walk away.”
Morgan hung up. Gabriel stood there, staring at the phone, all the emotions of the evening bubbling up, the rage and the confusion and the hurt seething together into a perfect storm, with a perfect target.
Gabriel grabbed his keys from the hall and stalked out.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
I wanted a motorcycle. Preferably a Harley, though I would settle for something smaller, as long as the reduced size didn’t mean a reduction in engine power.
First a gun, then a switchblade, now a motorcycle. Next thing you knew, I’d be making appointments for tats and piercings.
When I told Ricky that, as we lay in a patch of forest, naked and sleepy, he said, “I’d be up for the ink. Get one together. Something meaningful.”
I was taken aback at first. When I thought of couples getting joint tattoos, what came to mind were those unfortunate “Candy Forever” ones that in five years would have the guy telling new girlfriends it referred to his love for Tootsie Pops. That wasn’t what Ricky meant, though. He had tattoos. Four, each marking something he wanted to remember, and that’s what he was suggesting.
Would I do that? This relationship marked a stage in my life that was significant. A person who was significant. A time I would not regret.
“I’d go for that,” I said.
He opened one eye, looking surprised. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He pulled me on top of him. “Well, give it some thought. I’ll bring it up again in a few days, after the buzz of the riding lesson wears off.”
“I still want a bike.”
“I know. We can talk about that, too,” he said, and pulled me down in a kiss.
—
After we finished, Ricky muttered a sleepy “Gonna close my eyes for a sec,” and zonked out.
I touched the tattoo on his shoulder blade. It was the Saints patch, to commemorate the day he’d become a full member. It wasn’t exactly a screaming symbol of defiance, but it was there, and it said this was his life, his choice, one he wouldn’t be able to shuck by throwing out his jacket, selling his bike, and moving to the suburbs. I liked that—the attitude, the commitment, the single-mindedness, to be able to say at twenty that you’d known exactly what you wanted from life.
I was tracing my fingers over the tattoo and, yes, maybe hoping he’d stir. As peaceful as this patch of forest was, it was getting chilly.
“He won’t wake,” a voice said.
I scrambled up to see the Huntsman from the charity dinner. He was standing less than five feet away, smiling indulgently. I measured the distance to my gun, while glancing at Ricky.
“As I said, he won’t wake.”
My hand flew to Ricky’s neck, frantically checking—
“Oh, he’s fine,” he said. “I would never harm him. I’m just allowing him to sleep while we talk. He needs his rest. You seem to enjoy each other quite vigorously.”
I glowered at him.
“Merely an observation,” he said. “And certainly not one I’m displeased to see. You make him happy. He makes you happy. One can ask for little more from another person than that.” He paused. “Do you still have the boar’s tusk?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I have a feeling you’ll need it. I hear you’ve had an encounter. With a third party.”
“Tristan.”
“Yes. He’s warning you about us, and about those in Cainsville. Yet the accusation he levels against us could be directed at himself. He wants something from you. Everyone does. Except him.” He nodded at Ricky. “You can sense that, which is why you feel so comfortable around him. He only wants to be with you. The same cannot be said for anyone else in your life right now.”
I thought of Gabriel.
The man’s lips compressed. “Gabriel Walsh is damaged, Olivia. You know that, and you feel an urge to fix him. That’s natural, all things considered. But you can’t save him. The damage is done, and if you want to know where the blame for that lies, look at Cainsville.”
When I said nothing, he tilted his head. “You don’t ask what I mean. You know. Or you suspect. You haven’t reached all the conclusions, but you are on the path.”
“Am I on the right path?”
“Yes, but it’s a long road, and no one in Cainsville will help you. Safety through ignorance. That has always been their religion. They hide and they lie and they deceive. We do not. You know what I am, and I do not deny it. I offer you answers. You need only to ask.”
“And the cost?”
“Consideration. I would earn the right to show you what we offer.”
“What else?”
A flicker of surprise, as if he had expected me to buy the goods as offered. “Nothing more. Except that, naturally, if we are wooing you, you cannot continue to align yourself with them. You leave Cainsville. You renounce your association with Gabriel Walsh. You divorce yourself from their influence so you may fairly consider our offer.”
“You do realize I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about, right? You act like I’m a high school quarterback being wooed by two NFL teams, and I should know exactly what I am and what I’m worth and why the hell you both want me. I don’t.”
“That is what I’m offering. Answers.”
“While I appreciate the shortcut, I think I’ll take the long road. It looks a lot less treacherous.”
He only smiled. “As I expected. You can’t blame me for trying, though. Enjoy the trip. I’ll give some free advice, then. There are two things you’d best keep close, for protection: the boar’s tusk and the boy there. They’ll look after you. You can’t trust anything or anyone else. You know that.”
His gaze met mine, and I knew what he meant. Who he meant. Gabriel. Would he push me away again? Lie to me? Betray me? Ricky wouldn’t. Trusting Gabriel was like pitching camp on a fault line; Ricky was solid ground.
“Exactly,” the man said.
I glared.
“Would you prefer I didn’t admit I know what you’re thinking? Don’t worry. It’s too draining to maintain for long. But I’ll use what tools I have to understand the situation. You can’t blame me for that. I’ll bid you good night, then.” After two steps, he glanced back to see me settling on the ground beside Ricky. “How’s your back, Olivia? I’ll presume it doesn’t give you any trouble?”
Morgan hung up. Gabriel stood there, staring at the phone, all the emotions of the evening bubbling up, the rage and the confusion and the hurt seething together into a perfect storm, with a perfect target.
Gabriel grabbed his keys from the hall and stalked out.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
I wanted a motorcycle. Preferably a Harley, though I would settle for something smaller, as long as the reduced size didn’t mean a reduction in engine power.
First a gun, then a switchblade, now a motorcycle. Next thing you knew, I’d be making appointments for tats and piercings.
When I told Ricky that, as we lay in a patch of forest, naked and sleepy, he said, “I’d be up for the ink. Get one together. Something meaningful.”
I was taken aback at first. When I thought of couples getting joint tattoos, what came to mind were those unfortunate “Candy Forever” ones that in five years would have the guy telling new girlfriends it referred to his love for Tootsie Pops. That wasn’t what Ricky meant, though. He had tattoos. Four, each marking something he wanted to remember, and that’s what he was suggesting.
Would I do that? This relationship marked a stage in my life that was significant. A person who was significant. A time I would not regret.
“I’d go for that,” I said.
He opened one eye, looking surprised. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He pulled me on top of him. “Well, give it some thought. I’ll bring it up again in a few days, after the buzz of the riding lesson wears off.”
“I still want a bike.”
“I know. We can talk about that, too,” he said, and pulled me down in a kiss.
—
After we finished, Ricky muttered a sleepy “Gonna close my eyes for a sec,” and zonked out.
I touched the tattoo on his shoulder blade. It was the Saints patch, to commemorate the day he’d become a full member. It wasn’t exactly a screaming symbol of defiance, but it was there, and it said this was his life, his choice, one he wouldn’t be able to shuck by throwing out his jacket, selling his bike, and moving to the suburbs. I liked that—the attitude, the commitment, the single-mindedness, to be able to say at twenty that you’d known exactly what you wanted from life.
I was tracing my fingers over the tattoo and, yes, maybe hoping he’d stir. As peaceful as this patch of forest was, it was getting chilly.
“He won’t wake,” a voice said.
I scrambled up to see the Huntsman from the charity dinner. He was standing less than five feet away, smiling indulgently. I measured the distance to my gun, while glancing at Ricky.
“As I said, he won’t wake.”
My hand flew to Ricky’s neck, frantically checking—
“Oh, he’s fine,” he said. “I would never harm him. I’m just allowing him to sleep while we talk. He needs his rest. You seem to enjoy each other quite vigorously.”
I glowered at him.
“Merely an observation,” he said. “And certainly not one I’m displeased to see. You make him happy. He makes you happy. One can ask for little more from another person than that.” He paused. “Do you still have the boar’s tusk?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I have a feeling you’ll need it. I hear you’ve had an encounter. With a third party.”
“Tristan.”
“Yes. He’s warning you about us, and about those in Cainsville. Yet the accusation he levels against us could be directed at himself. He wants something from you. Everyone does. Except him.” He nodded at Ricky. “You can sense that, which is why you feel so comfortable around him. He only wants to be with you. The same cannot be said for anyone else in your life right now.”
I thought of Gabriel.
The man’s lips compressed. “Gabriel Walsh is damaged, Olivia. You know that, and you feel an urge to fix him. That’s natural, all things considered. But you can’t save him. The damage is done, and if you want to know where the blame for that lies, look at Cainsville.”
When I said nothing, he tilted his head. “You don’t ask what I mean. You know. Or you suspect. You haven’t reached all the conclusions, but you are on the path.”
“Am I on the right path?”
“Yes, but it’s a long road, and no one in Cainsville will help you. Safety through ignorance. That has always been their religion. They hide and they lie and they deceive. We do not. You know what I am, and I do not deny it. I offer you answers. You need only to ask.”
“And the cost?”
“Consideration. I would earn the right to show you what we offer.”
“What else?”
A flicker of surprise, as if he had expected me to buy the goods as offered. “Nothing more. Except that, naturally, if we are wooing you, you cannot continue to align yourself with them. You leave Cainsville. You renounce your association with Gabriel Walsh. You divorce yourself from their influence so you may fairly consider our offer.”
“You do realize I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about, right? You act like I’m a high school quarterback being wooed by two NFL teams, and I should know exactly what I am and what I’m worth and why the hell you both want me. I don’t.”
“That is what I’m offering. Answers.”
“While I appreciate the shortcut, I think I’ll take the long road. It looks a lot less treacherous.”
He only smiled. “As I expected. You can’t blame me for trying, though. Enjoy the trip. I’ll give some free advice, then. There are two things you’d best keep close, for protection: the boar’s tusk and the boy there. They’ll look after you. You can’t trust anything or anyone else. You know that.”
His gaze met mine, and I knew what he meant. Who he meant. Gabriel. Would he push me away again? Lie to me? Betray me? Ricky wouldn’t. Trusting Gabriel was like pitching camp on a fault line; Ricky was solid ground.
“Exactly,” the man said.
I glared.
“Would you prefer I didn’t admit I know what you’re thinking? Don’t worry. It’s too draining to maintain for long. But I’ll use what tools I have to understand the situation. You can’t blame me for that. I’ll bid you good night, then.” After two steps, he glanced back to see me settling on the ground beside Ricky. “How’s your back, Olivia? I’ll presume it doesn’t give you any trouble?”
