Miller is a billionaire.
Silver is a murder cover-up guy.
I'm said murderer.
When I found out my dad was in over his head in debt, enough that I had to trade my life to keep him and my dying mother alive, I thought things couldn't get any more bizarre, but here I am, covered in my bosses blood and considering going home with a complete stranger—who happens to be twice my age and fine as fuck. I should be afraid, I should be freaking out, I should be doing something other than allowing my lids to flutter shut and become one with this overpriced couch.
But if I had to pinpoint how I felt about all of this, it would be numb. Numb to the debt, the cancer, the death, the deal with the devil. Life was once vibrant and mine for the taking, but now it seems like life happens to me and there's nothing I can do to control the outcome. I'm just here for the ride, even if it becomes the most terrifying rollercoaster I've ever been on.
I like to think of myself as an optimistic person. I've always been the friend to look for the silver lining in a bad situation. I've been the one my friends come to for help or advice. But who do I turn to when I don't have the answers? I've tried to think of every possible solution for the shit storm I'm in, but not only am I unable to find a way out, I keep digging myself further into the hole.
Murder, really?
Sweet, bubbly, doesn't even smash bugs, Cora...a fucking murderer.
And the weirdest part of all is that I'm not that surprised. No, when I shoved that box cutter into Joshua and yanked it out, his face lined with shock and mine speckled with his blood, I felt...
I reposition on the couch and try to distract my train of thought.
What I did was wrong. End of story.
And the only way I'm going to be able to make it through any of this is to do what I always do and shove it into a little folder in my mind along with all the other terrible things I refuse to acknowledge. So what if it's a shitty coping mechanism, it's mine, and it's what works for me.
Here's to hoping the lid on that little box of horrors in my mind stays closed because if there's ever a day when I lose control of the things I've hidden away, there's no telling what kind of darkness will emerge.
7
SILVER
Ifinish tending to the job I was assigned to and return to the crime scene.
There, on the couch, curled into a small ball of a human, Cora sleeps. Her chest rises and falls slowly, and damn if it isn't like I'm watching a fucking angel slumber.
She's nothing like I'm used to. No, in this business I deal with brute men and their evil wenches and occasional mistresses.
Never, in all my years, have I come across someone so...innocent.
Sure, she stabbed a guy countless times until he bled out, but that aside, Cora is like a bright beaming light that I haven't seen in ages, if at all. And damn if I don't have this strange, innate desire to protect it before it gets snuffed out.
Maybe if someone had done the same for me, I wouldn't have turned into the man I am today.
"Cora," I whisper but barely loud enough for her to hear.
She doesn't stir so I scoop her into my arms and position her close to my chest.
Cora nuzzles right in and wiggles her head to get more comfortable, her hair wafting the sweetest mixture of honey and lavender up at me.
My heart pounds and I'm well aware of how fucking stupid this is. All of it. I should have never spoken to her other than the formalities of getting the job done, but how could I ignore how helpless she was in such an unfamiliar situation. I didn't expectherwhen I walked through that door. I thought I would be greeted by Miller, the man who ordered the job. The man I've dealt with countless times in similar scenarios like this.
The many years in this profession never prepared me forher.
So when I saw just how vulnerable she was, my stupid mouth betrayed me and offered to take her home with me.
Fucking idiot.
But how was I supposed to just leave her there to fend for herself when she had no idea what she even needed to do?
Christ, it was like watching a deer stand in the street staring right into a set of headlights. If I hadn't stepped in, there's no telling what would happen to her.
