He brushes my hair back over my shoulders and kisses me all over. It’s full of reverence and this is how I know he’s really falling for me.
I have a definite falling sensation too.
Into a vortex that I can’t get out of.
“I don’t care,” I tell him, and it’s frantic. “I just need to get high. On you. On everything. I need to feel alive.”
There is concern in his eyes, but he doesn’t voice it.
“Whatever you want, baby doll,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”
Twenty-Four
Rory
Scarlett isn’tthe sort of girl you take to the movies.
You don’t buy her flowers and chocolates to sweeten her mood.
You take her to an armory.
“What is this place?” she asks.
I don’t answer because I like watching her figure things out on her own.
The road up here is private. The land owned by our Russian mate Alexei. It’s in the middle of bleeding nowhere and the lads and I come up here from time to time to blow off steam.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she asks, and now she’s stiffer than a board in my passenger seat.
Something has changed, and as usual, I can’t keep up.
“You said you wanted to get high.”
“So you bring me into the forest?”
Fuck.
The forest.
Scarlett is tougher than nails, so it’s easy to forget sometimes all the hell she’s been through.
I point out the window and into the distance where the targets are set up.
She’s quiet for a minute, glancing at the targets, then back to me. Questioning me with her eyes. And it’s time we had this out.
“Scarlett, do ye not feel safe with me?” I ask. “Do ye honestly believe I’d ever do anything to hurt you?”
“No,” she says. “I know you wouldn’t do anything.”
Her voice is sincere, and it’s a baby step.
“Aye,” I answer. “Now, how do ye feel about blowing shit up?”
She smiles. “I want to.”
“Yeah ye do, baby.”
We get out of the car and I take her hand. She doesn’t fight me on this.
