Yep, by Ashland standards, it was a perfect date night.
ChapterNine
Tuckerand I returned to the bathroom, which was still empty.
I washed the blood off my face, hands, and arms and made sure that none was visible on my dress. I also grabbed my purse from the floor, plucked out the comb and compact inside, and fixed my hair and makeup. Tucker scrubbed the blood off his mouth, but it wouldn’t come out of his white shirt.
He dried his hands, tossed the paper towel into the trash, and faced me. “I should go finish cleaning up. And you should return to the party before Mallory misses you.”
He was right. I should go, but I wanted some answers first.
“Why did you kill Walter Butler, the hit man Clyde sent after me?”
Tucker shifted on his feet, as though suddenly uncomfortable. “You know why.”
“No, actually, I don’t. Sometimes I think I know you so well. But other times, you are a complete and utter mystery.”
“An annoying, frustrating, and stubborn mystery?” he asked in a teasing tone.
“Yes. All of those things and many others,” I growled, tired of playing word games—and all the other games we seemed to be playing with each other. “Just tell mewhyyou did it. And especially why you tried to hide the hit man’s body afterward.”
He kept shifting on his feet, as though the motion would somehow make my question disappear. Finally, he sighed, stilled, and raised his eyes to mine.
“Because I like you far more than I have liked anyone in a long time,” Tucker replied. “And I didn’t want you to feel beholden to me, not for one instant, not for the smallest thing.”
He sighed again, and weary resignation rippled through his long, slow exhale. “I know what it’s like when someone does something for you and then expects something even greater in return. Not just expects it butdemandsit. When they put a hefty price tag on the help you so desperately need. And not a monetary price but something far more precious, little bits of your heart and soul and conscience and self-esteem that they take for themselves, one bloody favor at a time.”
“Someone like Mason Mitchell?” I asked in a soft voice.
Tucker nodded, the jerk of his head as sharp as a silverstone knife slicing through the air. “Yes. After my father’s gambling debts became too large and public to hide, Mason approached me. He was just starting his rise to power within the Circle, and he said he needed someone like me on his side, someone to help enact his vision for the group, a vision that would make us all richer and more powerful than we’d ever imagined. I was young and stupid at the time, and Mason was deceptively charismatic, so I foolishly believed him. I didn’t see Mason for the monster he truly was until it was far too late, and he had already cost me much more than I had ever wanted to spend.”
A haunted look filled his face, but I didn’t ask what he was remembering—or what price he’d paid for Mason’s greed and cruelty.
“The Circle had always dealt in various illegal enterprises in Ashland, and my father consorted with all sorts of unsavory people, gamblers, loan sharks, and the like. Anyone who would front him money, or play poker with him, or meet him for drinks at the casino or horse track that was his latest gambling obsession. So I didn’t have a problem with Mason’s vision for Ashland, not back then. Plus, it seemed like the only way to save my mother and the rest of my family from financial ruin.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“Mason claimed that he would take care of all my father’s debts, if only I would work for him.”
“And you did.”
Tucker nodded. “Mason was throwing me what seemed like a life preserver. I just didn’t realize at the time that it was really an anchor.”
His head dropped, his shoulders slumped, and his gaze fell to the tile floor, as if just thinking about all the awful things he’d done for Mason was another anchor dragging him down, down, down.
After several long, silent seconds, Tucker lifted his head and stared at me again. More of that weary resignation creased his face, and he looked utterly exhausted, far more exhausted than he had seemed even while he was recovering from almost dying at Mason’s hands.
“I’ve done horrible things, Lorelei. Terrible, evil, unspeakable things. And I would have kept right on doing them if Gin hadn’t learned about the Circle and killed Mason.” Tucker’s voice was low and raspy, but his words tolled out as loudly as a bell, as if marking each and every one of those dark, despicable, dirty deeds.
My heart ached for him, for everything he’d been through, for the awful position his father had put him in and the terrible things he’d had to do in order to survive. I opened my mouth to tell him that I understood, and especially that I didn’t feel beholden to him, but Tucker gave me a sad, rueful smile.
“Mallory is probably wondering where you are. Good night, Ms. Parker.”
Tucker tipped his head to me, then opened the door and stepped outside, leaving me alone in the bathroom with his confession still echoing in the air all around me.
I staredat the closed door for several seconds. Then I shook off my daze. What was I doing? I needed to go after Tucker and tell him… Well, I wasn’t surewhatI was going to tell him, but I had to try.
So I crossed the bathroom, opened the door, and stepped into the corridor, but of course, Tucker was long gone. I cursed the vampire’s speed, but I headed to my right, away from the noise of the ballroom. Tucker wouldn’t go there, which meant he was probably somewhere deeper in the resort—
