“LeCharles, please…”
I’d heard her beg. I’d heard her plead. I’d heard her supplicate herself to me.
But I had never heard such a terrifying mix of sorrow and begging as now. It was... tragic, really. I felt awful hearing her sound like this.
“Please, just walk me back upstairs.”
I grimaced. I wanted to, but—
My phone buzzed. It was Lane.
“Saints tried to attack. Held ‘em off. No casualties, just couple bullet holes in the building. They didn’t think we’d be ready. Guess Pink Raven is not it.”
That made me breathe a little bit easier. The worst had passed, making it unlikely the Saints would attack again tonight. It also gave me the space to help Rose upstairs if I wanted to.
And, well, damnit...
“I’m walking you upstairs,” I said. “And that. Is. Fucking. It.”
I killed the bike, shaking my head at myself. This wasn’t going to be “just it.” I knew myself well enough to know that wouldn’t be just it. I didn’t think this meant I was suddenly going to sleep with her, but going up to a girl’s apartment like this was rarely a “just it” deal.
Nevertheless, I walked right behind her, protecting her from any lingering bad element. Although there were no Fallen Saints around that I could see, I could still tell the place was not the nicest part of town. I could hear people arguing in one of the apartments, a couple of homeless people were outside, and some TV sets were playing far too loudly. To see that Rose had fallen from where we once were, two young adults living in the prime of our lives, to this...
Well, honestly, again, it was just tragic.
I was beginning to realize that perhaps Rose was suffering far more than I had ever figured. Maybe I just didn’t understand Rose as much as I would have liked to. Maybe she had changed as a person, I could see that, but if I couldn’t given her credit for changing while in the worst part of her life...
Credit wasn’t the right word. But seeing this place and seeing how a girl I had once loved had fallen to this level made it difficult to find the right vocabulary.
We got to her door and paused. I waited for her to grab her key and then heard quick footsteps inside.
“Hold up,” I said, reaching for my gun.
“Relax,” she said, putting a hand on my arm and lowering my hand. “It’s just Shiloh.”
What? Who the hell is Shiloh?
“You can meet him if you want. He’s a great guy.”
“Shiloh?” I said, raising an eyebrow.
But as soon as Rose entered the door and crouched down, I realized how ridiculous I must have looked reaching for my pistol. Shiloh wasn’t some strange booty call waiting at home. He wasn’t a son that Rose had neglected to tell me about.
He was just an incredibly goofy-looking, friendly German Shepherd.
“Oh,” I said.
There was about only one thing that could get me to act mushy and sweet and over the top. And that thing was staring right in front of me.
A good boy.
“Hello, little Shiloh!” I said, crouching down and petting his ears as he sniffed me very carefully. “Hi there, buddy! How are you?”
Rose watched with stunned disbelief. In fact, for several seconds, she couldn’t muster any words, only struggling to get half-words out. I heard her, but I was so obsessed with the dog in front of me, I didn’t say anything to her.
“He usually hates other guys,” she finally said quietly. “The second he even sees one across the street, it’s like he’s got to act all tough. As if he’s telling everyone I’m his. Which I am.”
She chuckled. I kept playing with Shiloh.
