I glance around the so-called recovery room. It has the feel of a morgue about it, with the scent of blood lingering along with antiseptic and an overload of stainless steel. Even the bed base he's sitting on is stainless steel.
We're in Gowanus, near the canal, in a nondescript old warehouse.
Fuck only knows how Silas got hold of this place.
Cade is near the door, leaning against it, phone in hand as he works.
Silas is working leads and calling in his own personal favors. He is gunning for airports, bus stations, and even the fucking train.
However, I don't think Lyndall will leave town. I think she will stick to what is familiar to her.
At least, for now.
Which is why I'm not calling family and affiliates.
Yet.
"Yeah, well, I feel a shitload worse." Luke looks me in the eye. "Are you here to finish the job?"
I don't answer, and still, he doesn't look away. "Like I told your father, I never touched her. I hugged her. I kissed her forehead to comfort her because she was upset, but?—"
"Lyndall is fucking fifteen. What the fuck were you doing in a child's bedroom?"
"She doesn't act like a child."
I clench my fist, and I catch Cade straightening. But he doesn't take a step forward.
Luke's point has been made, though.
I unclench my fist and stay where I am. "Explain that."
"W-what I mean is she's mature for her age."
These are not the right words.
But again, I get Luke's message. "And that makes it okay?"
Cade clears his throat. "I think what he means is, think very carefully before you put things into words." Cade pauses, then adds, "And if you've got untoward thoughts about Lyndall, I'll fucking help him string you up by your balls."
Luke swallows.
I nod. "And no, it's not a euphemism. We'll do it. Literally."
He breathes out and winces. "I just meant she's a good person. I didn't even think of touching her. I like her. She's smart and sweet and feisty. And she's stubborn as fuck. I escorted her to her room. Look, man, I'm aware she likes me..."
Everything goes tight and cold inside. Because I think he might like her too, and not in a friend way.
He thinks she's pretty. He's attracted. And she's way, way too young for him.
Maybe he needs to be dickless after all.
"But I wouldn't. Ever."
"If I find out differently..." I warn.
And he shifts a little, moving back, like he's scared of me.
I know he's scared shitless of Dad, and the way he's trying to be helpful and reverent tells me he's just as scared of me. But I really want to do some more facial rearranging.
