“Secured,” she repeats. “What does that even mean?”
“Tied up in my fucking basement. Go inside, Celine.”
She chews her lip, looking devastated. The Beast isn’t supposed to feel emotions, isn’t supposed to give a damn if I upset people.
Something in me softens. I didn’t know that was possible before her. This time, I gently touch her hand intentionally. “I know this is a lot. I’m trying to help.”
She looks so grateful for that small morsel of humanity. Taking a steadying breath, she nods, then pushes the door open and walks through the rear gate and overgrown garden.
I chose this property because the rear opens onto a park and some fields. No security cameras. Today, it’s quiet, with one dog walker at the other end of the park. I sit drumming my fingers against the wheel, telling myself I can’t kill Rico. Not yet.
But when I think of him in that alley, think of what he was going to do to Celine, I want to wring his neck.
Once I’ve stowed Rico so somewhere he can’t bother innocent women, I meet Celine in the living room. She looks beautiful and somehow out of place amidst the Christmas decorations. She’s still wearing her nurse’s scrubs, her hair disheveled, her cheeks flushed red.
Beautiful, every inch of her.
She springs to her feet as though she’s been working up to it. “I need answers. Now. Who is that man? Why was he following me? What exactly do you and Julian do? What did Rico mean when he said it’s difficult to be sure without a body?”
I put my hand up. “Wait. Stop. What do you mean?”
“That’s what he said at the hospital,” she snaps. “It’s difficult to be sure without a body.Was he talking about you? About that attack?”
Julian didn’t mention that. And he got shifty when I asked.
No.
Dammit.
No.
I can’t even go there.
There must be an explanation.
“I need to call Julian,” I tell her. “He has to be here for this.”
“I need answers!”
“Not without your brother. It wouldn’t be right.”
She rages across the room towards me. Stops so close to me I can smell her sweat, her long work day clinging to her. It makes me want her somehow more. Her natural scent. Like we’re animals, and she’s communicating with some primal piece of me.
“You didn’t care about my brother when you were kissing me,” she hisses.
That was a mistake.
Say it, Damian.
But I can’t.
“Nothing to say to that, huh?” she demands.
I reach into my pocket. “I’m calling Julian.”
“To tell him about the kiss?”
“Now you’re being petty.”
