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They were all women: one playing a cello, the painting smudged as if she was a part of the music. Another one was underwater, her hair splayed out, and air bubbles escaping her lips. One was naked with a view her back, but her face was turned towards the viewer, a coy smirk to her lips.
A knot formed in my throat, my eyes burning with unspent tears.
They were soulful and emotive; exactly the kind of paintings I would’ve chosen for my own home.
We were so alike, Knight and me. I’d only been here an hour but it already felt likehometo me. From the smell of sage and coconut, to the cozy, unpretentious decor, and then there was that deep, intense connection I felt when we were together. From the first day we’d met, there was something there between us, the kind of connecting energy that no one understood except for him and me.
I’d felt it as a kid, even if I hadn’t understood it. But now that I had more experience in life, I knew it was something rare and special.
I took a minute to revel in this feeling—the utter ache and longing inside me for something more in my life besides ambition and revenge.
It was too bad I wanted to kill him.We could’ve been happy together.
After a long moment, I pulled myself together, pushing away the tormenting yearning inside me to face my reality. I had to work with what I had. I took shitty lemons from assholes and threw them back in their faces.
And besides, I’d already made this deal with Rook, and couldn’t go back on my word…could I?
I was afraid I was beginning to forget why I hated Knight so much…
And then I remembered how it felt—to be alone, suffering from heroin withdrawal. And then, later on, to be totally paralyzed, having to pee myself, then sit in my mess for hours on end. The torture and endless pain.
In the end, it only made me stronger and I had to focus on that.
"Avery, you came."
Knight's voice, a deep rumble that made a shiver of need crawl through me. I hated that even just the sound of his voice could make me feel vulnerable.
“It wasn't really a choice," she responded, and I finished slinking down the stairs, then peeked into the kitchen from the shadows, catching her brief glare at Dante. “Tell me what you need. I’m not killing anyone or getting rid of evidence.”
“You should know we don’t need you for something like that.” Knight pulled out a baggie and laid it on the hand-carved farm table in between them.
"What's this?" Avery didn't touch it.
"That's what I want you to find out," Knight responded.
"It looks like a junkie needle. Tell me what's so special about it." Avery didn't look impressed.
“We found it. The doctor thinks it’s heroine."
“Where’d you find it?”
Knight didn’t immediately answer, only giving her a stark stare. Finally, when she didn’t make a move, he said, “It was found in the middle of the strip.”
“And?”
“This is important to us.” Knight's voice had grown even darker, a low growl, betraying his anger.
“And what the hell does that have to do with me?”
“It has to do with Tatiana.”
"Tatiana?" At this, Avery looked concerned.
Years ago, I’d helped Avery with a problem she’d had. One of my girls had alerted me to the fact that Avery’s boyfriend was physical with her, and I’d taken care of him—in ways she didn’t want to know about.
Avery looked intrigued, bending over it. "I didn't know she used."
"She doesn't."