I wish that for her because, even though she sat there with her queen-to-servant mask on, her pain was evident.
“I was fucking him.”
Jesus.
Ruiz comes into the observation room and stands next to me. We both look at the empty interrogation room, where minutes ago Enya had been answering Ruiz’s questions—all of which I helped him put together because I know her best.
“I cared about his dick, and that operated just fine.”
Even that—her attempt to strip our connection down to something crude and transactional—was soaked in pain.
Ruiz turns and leans against the two-way mirror, facing me. “She handled herself well.”
“Yeah.” I tuck my hands in the pockets of my jeans.
I don’t have to wear a suit unless I need to because I’m done pretending to be an art expert for the Smithsonian. I’m in black jeans and a black shirt. My sister Daisy calls it the Steve Jobs look, which I take umbrage at. I dress for the shadows, not to show off my prissy tech ass.
“She’s not doing well, though,” Ruiz adds in case I’m too blind to see it.
I am not.
“No, she isn’t.”
Ruiz studies me for a long moment. “Will she….”
“Self-harm?” I shake my head. “No. She’s one of the strongest women I know. And she has too much love for life to do that.”
Ruiz lets out an exasperated breath. “She didn’t deserve that and…neither did you.”
“She was going to get hurt no matter what.” Pressure clamps down behind my sternum. I want to fall on my knees and beg forgiveness from whatever gods, who I don’t believe in, are listening.
Ruiz rubs a hand over his jaw. “For what it’s worth, and I know it isn’t worth much, she broke my heart.”
“The one you don’t have?” I shoot back, eyebrow raised.
He snorts. “Yeah, that one.” Then he huffs and gives his head a quick shake. “She thought she was boring. Did you hear that part? Thought she was forgettable.”
I give him a tight-lipped look that conveys things I don’t know how to say aloud.
Enya isn’t boring in the least.
She’s fascinating, with a kind soul and a lovely sense of humor.
She’s special, but everyone in her life—her father, the men she dated, her sister, and now me—we all have made her feel like she’s less.
The door opens, and Kiera steps in. She looks inquiringly at us. “Well, she refused a ride and ordered an Uber.”
“You talk to her?” I ask, my legendary control slipping. I don’t want Kiera anywhere near Enya.
Kiera frowned. “No, of course not. I just made sure she left the building and had transpo.”
I sigh with relief—or an emotion similar to it because, honestly, I am not going to be relieved any time soon.
“She held herself together.” Ruiz is obviously impressed. “Better than most people I see in that chair.”
“She was nervous,” Kiera points out.
“Yeah, she was, but she didn’t show it.” He smiles sadly at me. “I don’t know how you did what you did because that woman is the kind you cherish.”
