“I was at the hunt,” I remind them. “But you’re right. I am your Lord, and it would do you both well to remember that.”
“Or what? You’ll let us beat you?” Reon scoffs, clenching his fists. “I see that’s what you seem to enjoy these days.”
“Yeah, well, maybe today I did.”
“You should stop fighting here. If you want to be beaten, come to me. I’ll happily break a few of your ribs,” Reon offers with a glint in his eye.
“Of course you would.”
I glance at the back door.
“Getting into a relationship with a woman who was trying to take you down is not ideal,” Arlo says, always trying to be the voice of reason.
“I’m not in a relationship with her,” I tell him, voice clipped and cool. Not yet. Not like I want to be. I hate that I have to say it like this, like it’s a fact I’m trying to convince myself of as much as him.Because if I’m honest, none of this is simple.
“Now, if that’s all, I need to leave.” I turn away before I say something I can’t take back.
“My wife would like you to come to our wedding anniversary party,” Reon says. “Two years,” he adds proudly. “Though I can’t guarantee she won’t try to kill you.”
“She’s wanted to kill me for many years now.”
“That she has.”
With nothing left to say, I head out the back door, leaving them standing in the dressing room.
THIRTY-FIVE
CRESSIDA
Case Notes
Do not cook for the enemy.
I’m sittingin his car, waiting.
It doesn’t take long before I see him emerge from the building, one arm wrapped around his ribs like he’s holding himself together. They’re probably killing him, though I doubt he’d ever admit it.
Soren slides into the passenger seat with a wince he tries to hide, turns his head toward me, and smirks. “If your plan is to kill me with your driving, I just want you to know, I’m fully prepared to die with you.”
I scoff as I start the car. “I would never kill myself. I have my son to think about.”
“Good to know.” After a beat, he adds, “He seems like a good kid.”
“He is.” I hesitate before confiding, “He liked you.” When he doesn’t reply right away, I glance at him to find him staring out the window.
“Kids don’t like me,” he finally says.
“My kid did.”
We drive in silence for a few minutes, and I wonder what it is that broke this man so much.
“Your friends… They don’t like you hanging out with me, do they?”
“Who cares what they think?” he replies, then asks, “What do you plan to do once you get me home?”
“Oliver is with his father tonight, so I’ll stay with you to make sure you don’t die. You could have a concussion.”
“I don’t.”
