“Indigo, what the fuck? Did Petrov do something? Or is this about what happened before I left? Do you regret it?”
Sorrow flashed in my girl’s eyes. “No, Priest. I don’t regret it…but maybe…” Indigo refused to meet my gaze, which was unlike her. I was running out of patience, but I did my best to keep my frustration in check so I didn’t vent it onto a girl who seemed to be going through something difficult.
“Look at me, angel. If you’re going to brush me off like this, you can at least look me in the eye while you do it.” Her eyes snapped up to mine, but instead of her usual spark, I saw exhaustion dimming their glow.
“I think this”—she gestured between us— “isn’t going to work out.” She chewed her bottom lip, and I wanted nothing more than to pull her face to mine so I could soothe the abused flesh with a kiss.
“Respectfully,” I said, “I disagree. Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it.” She bristled.Fuck.
“You can’t fix this! You can’t fix me, so if that’s what you’re trying to do here, we’re definitely done.” She tried to shut the door in my face again, but my boot still blocked the door. She stomped on it in her bare feet, managing only to bruise her foot and make her even more frustrated than my words.
“Fine,” she huffed, abandoning her effort to shut the door. She turned on her heel and stomped over to her bed, grabbing two pillows and a blanket.
“Angel—” My words died in my throat at the fierce look on her face.
“No! I’m not your angel! I’m…I’m—” Her bottom lip trembled a bit, but she took a deep breath. “I need some space to think. I’m going to have a sleepover with Sheila.” She walked past me and into the hallway. “I know you’re a stubborn Stanley, but if you think about it, you’ll see I’m right. We had fun together.” She shrugged at the top of the staircase; her blanket bundled in her arms and her pillows tucked under each elbow. “But maybe this is the most we can ever be. We don’t owe each other anything. I’m too damaged to give you more, and you deserve better. I hope you find it, Priest.”
Indigo left me standing there, wondering what the hell happened since she’d woken up in my arms and told me she wanted me. That what was growing between us wasn’t casual. Something was wrong, but I wasn’t going to get any more information from her tonight. She was too upset, too in her own head, to give me the answers I needed. If I pushed her now, I’d only hurt her more. Sighing, I shook my head, resigned to my fate.
Chapter 31
Indigo
A breeze drifted through Sheila’s cracked windows, bringing with it the dry, earthy scent of the desert. Despite the warm night, I was bundled up in my blanket like a poorly wrapped burrito. Ever since the horrible conversation with Uncle Roark, I’d felt a chill in the pit of my stomach. Maybe I’d been pretending here with the Crows. Not that I was normal; not even someone with my dazzling stage presence could pull off an act likethat. But that I could belong, that I could patch my bruised and battered self together enough to build a life worth having. That was the fantasy. Los Cuervos had taken me and my past in stride, but after losing one of their own and inheriting a blood feud with the Beast of Boston, maybethissecret would be one too many. With one bullet and a few cruel words, Uncle Roark had reminded me that I’d never,everbe whole. Not like I should be.
Unc—Roarkruined me, and if Priest understood exactly to what extent, he wouldn’t want me. Mikhail and Riordan wouldn’t either. I’d seen enough Mafia movies to know that having children and carrying on the criminal line was important to those guys. I’d never be able to do that. I neverwantedto do that, but I felt enraged and devastated and…and…deprivedbecause the choice was taken out of my hands. Roark stole that choice from me,just one in a long line of many, but this one felt the most ultimate. The most irrevocable.
Not that I wanted to have Priest’s stupid, growly babies anyway. Honestly, babies kind of creeped me out. Their tiny hands were just… off-putting. But that wasn’t the point! Eventually,hewould want that, and I could never give it to him. It was better to end whatever we were now, before we got in too deep. I’d hate to disappoint him. A small, optimistic voice in my head asked, “What if he doesn’t care about what Roark stole? What if he thinks babies are gross and would rather be a pet parent? I wonder if it’s legal to have a raccoon for a pet in Nevada? Not that it really matters if it isn’t. I mean, I buried a serial killer in their backyard, and the Crows didn’t bat an eye, so what’s an illegal pet between friends…? Would Priest like to have a raccoon child with me? Is he even raccoon baby daddy material?”Oh fun. Something new to spiral about!
The crunch of boot heels in gravel drew my attention away from thoughts of Priest and Jeremy, our hypothetical rescued raccoon baby, in matching button-downs and bow ties. I peeked through Sheila’s window and saw Priest walking toward us with a blanket in one hand and a camping chair in the other. He grumbled aboutinvesting in a goddamn inflatable mattressas he sat down roughly. “I came out here for space,” I called out after a few minutes.
“And you have it,” he said in a tired voice. “You’re not staying out here alone. If you’re sleeping under the stars, angel, so am I. Now,” he sighed, “go to sleep. In the morning you can tell me what’s got you so out of sorts, and we’ll figure out how to deal with whatever it is. But now, sleep.”
I crawled away from the window and back into my nest. Face nestled into one pillow while my arms cradled the other, I tried to push away the thought that if I wasn’t so messed up, maybe my arms would be cradlingthe sweet, grumpy biker outside instead. I hummed “American Girl”by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers as I drifted off to sleep. My dreaming brain taunted me all night. A raccoon with Priest’s blue eyes ratted me out as Tank’s Yoo-hoo thief, and the Crows chased me away with pitchforks. Sheila got a flat tire during our escape, and Lennon kicked me out of the Wicked Sisterhood for jeopardizing a sister. Sheila blared John Mayer songs from the radio at me as I did the walk of shame. She and Lennon even made me wear a cone of shame, like the dog in thatUpmovie.
I woke up the following morning sore from a night of fitful sleep. The smell of coffee lured me out of my nest, and I peeked my head out of Sheila’s rear door, my nose having led me directly to the source. Priest sat in his camping chair, a steaming mug of coffee propped on his boot, where it rested on the knee of the opposite leg. A second mug sat on a small cooler, right next to an empty camping chair that hadn’t been there last night. “Good mornin’, angel,” Priest said. “Get your sexy ass over here and have some coffee. I need you fully awake and aware. You and I are due to have a conversation.”
Priest, grumpy, growly bastard that he was, was also agentleman. He waited, watching me with those bright blue eyes, until I had finished my cup of coffee before he spoke again. It was like he knew that our conversation was going to suck, and he wanted me to have this peaceful silent moment with my coffee before things changed and my day was ruined. I appreciated the time to collect myself more than I could say.
After I’d taken the final sip, Priest opened the cooler to produce a thermos and a white paper bag. Goose bumps erupted over my skin at the absolute confirmation that Priest was the one leaving me little treatsevery day. But really, that was just a lie I told myself. Deep down, I always knew it was Priest leaving my treats, and I was more than 80 percent sure he’d been the one to add all the amazing new equipment to our little gym. The goose bumps I’d gotten were entirely due to the fact that Priestwantedme to know it was him.
Priest refilled my mug with rich, dark coffee and then handed me the white bag. “I wanted to give it to you myself this time,” he said casually, like he wasn’t admitting to being my mysterious benefactor all along. His fingers briefly brushed mine as I took the bag and peeked inside.
“What is it?” I asked in a small voice, pulling a flaky pastry from the bag, the bottom of which was stained with speckles of oil.
“Chocolate croissant,” he rumbled in reply. Buttery deliciousness enveloped my senses as I took a bite of the rich pastry, with dark chocolate teasing my taste buds and complementing the lingering taste of coffee on my tongue. I hummed in satisfaction as I licked my lips, tongue chasing any errant flakes of pastry while Priest watched me enjoy my breakfast with satisfaction.
“This is amazing, Priest, thank you,” I said with a blush as he watched me eat. He nodded in acknowledgment of my thanks and took a sip of his coffee. “Wanna bite?” I asked, in an attempt to be polite, but honestly, I was kind of hoping he’d say no. It wasreallygood. He shook his head, and I gobbled the last few bites before he could change his mind. Chocolate was best enjoyed immediately, after all.
“Now that you’ve had some time, caffeine, and sugar, I was hoping you could tell me what happened between when I left Sagebrush and when I came home?” I took a deep, steadying breath. He did deserve to know, and I felt a pang of regret that he came home from one fight and fell straight into another with me. If I were a normal girl, I would have welcomed him home, tended to his wounds (if he had any), and probably fallen into bed with him. Instead, I’d ignored him from my perch in my deluxe new-to-me office chair and then yelled at him, choosing to sleep with Sheila instead. I looked at my ride-or-die best bitch Sheila for advice, but she just sat there unhelpfully.
“You ever been kicked in the dick, Priest?” I asked him over the rim of my mug. He coughed a bit, surprised by my question, but I just lifted abrow in question and took a sip of my own coffee. “Like a real solid dropkick to the cock with a steel-toed boot or maybe an ice skate?”
“Are you telling me Petrov crotch stomped you, angel?” Priest asked incredulously. I huffed out a laugh that sounded exhausted, even to my ears. “Metaphorically speaking.” I took another sip of my coffee. “He had a video call with Seamus Callahan, and he asked me to be there. I guess he thought my presence would send a message to Seamus, and he’d finally get answers about his sister.” I wasn’t sure why I referred to Tatiana as Mikhail’s sister and not my mother. Maybe I wasn’t ready to claim someone who’d been unable to protect me from Roark, or perhaps it just hurt too much to think of yet another thing in my life Roark had stolen from me before I’d even had the chance to fully understand what it meant.
“Turns out it didn’t matter anyway. Roark blew Seamus’s brains out in HD and basically demanded that Mikhail hand me over or else.” Priest’s stormy gaze scanned my face, immediately understanding the implications of Roark’s coup and the threat gunning for me.
“Is he what’s upsetting you, angel? Roark Callahan won’t ever touch you again, I swear it. Between the Crows and the Russians, you’re safe now. He can’t get to you.”
