He turns his sharp eyes to me and they soften. “Not much. The odd hand where it wasn’t supposed to be, stuff like that. But others weren’t so lucky.” His eyes soften even more. “I take it you were one of the unlucky ones.”
That’s not exactly pity in his eyes, it’s something more hard than that, more like compassion. Maybe that’s why it doesn’t bother me so much.
“Yeah, you could say that. And the bastard got away with it and kept doing it to others, because I was too scared to tell anyone. And now I want to correct that mistake.”
“And your MC buddies don’t want to help?”
“I’ll go on my own,” I say and lean back so the server can deposit our taco baskets on the table. The food smells delicious, but for some reason that just kills my already non-existent appetite. “It’s my fight. My mistake to fix.”
“I’ll help you,” he says and picks up his taco. “I have some experience dealing with priests like that, because the church could never be trusted to deal with them properly.”
“What? You mean you’d execute them?”
He shrugs. “What else are you gonna with sickos like that?”
“Make them rot in a jail cell for the rest of their lives,” I say and pick up my taco as well.
“Sure, that’s something too,” he says and takes a big bite of his taco. I just nibble on mine, because Gael’s contorted, angry face is front and center in my mind’s eye now and that’s enough to take away anyone’s appetite. The taco is as delicious as it smells though.
“But the church protects these fuckers,” he says. “You want them gone, you gotta do it yourself. That’s what my father and the rest of the commission thought, anyway.”
The look in his eyes as he mentions his father is pure pain and sadness. But it’s back to the sharp steel a split second later as he fixes his eyes back on mine.
“So, yeah, I’ll help you deal with him,” he adds.
My knee-jerk reaction is to tell him I’m fine. That I don’t need his help, that I can do this on my own.
But instead, I just say, “Thank you.”
It’s what I actually really wanted to say. Just like I actually really want someone’s help. But should that someone be Nico? That, I’m not so sure about.
For the past few months, he’s made it so very clear that he wants me. And I don’t want him. I don’t want any man. And now he’s gonna get the wrong idea and what am I going to do then?
“So what’s the deal with Zane, anyway?” he asks. “Is he gonna help too, or what?”
The anxiety of all the what ifs when Nico finally makes his move and I have to reject him was turning my vision black at theedges. So I’m happy for this change in subject. I just don’t know how to address it.
“Zane’s story isn’t mine to tell,” I say, since that’s actually the truth.
“Yeah, but he’s not much of a talker, is he?” he says and chuckles.
I shrug and smile too, because that is also the truth. Zane doesn’t talk to anyone much, not even Rogue, and they’ve always been best friends. “You can say that again.”
“From what he was shouting earlier, it sounded like he’s killed a priest,” Nico pushes.
“A long time ago,” I say, since this part of Zane’s story is common knowledge. “He was convicted for it, got a life sentence, no parole. But he escaped and he’s been living on the run ever since. No one really knows why he did it. At least not that I’m aware of.”
Nico wipes his mouth with a napkin and leans back. “If I had to guess, I’d say that killing the priest doesn’t sit well with him. And that’s why he flew off the handle when you asked him to help you.”
“That wasn’t my intention, though,” I say. “I’d much prefer for Father Gael to rot in a jail cell.”
His eyes, his whole face actually, darken like the sky right before a bad storm. “Or even better, in some underground bunker where no one will ever find him again. That can be arranged too.”
The malicious joy that erupts in my chest at hearing that makes me question who I really am. Because I’d like to see Gael locked up in a dark underground bunker, and it would be justice, but not the clean, above-board kind I pride myself in delivering. But then again, we did leave Ghost, the serial killer who killed our friend Angel, incapacitated and bleeding for the beasts of thedesert to finish him off. So maybe a dark cell underground isn’t so bad after all.
“I’ll play it by ear once I see him,” I say and take a more concrete bite of my taco.
“And I’ll be right there by your side,” he says, the joy in his eyes contagious.
