Page 38 of Torched Spades

The corner of his mouth tips up. “Don’t worry, Johnny. I’ll send Dr. Brennan’s office an affidavit confirming your promotion along with a request to shift your appointment time to four p.m.” He waves his hand like it’s a fucking magic wand. “I’m sure Alice will let you leave half an hour early.”

I let out a heavy breath. For a moment, I thought he was using this “promotion” to kill two birds with one stone. A double play that got me away from troubleandtemptation.

While I know continuing to see Becca is dangerous, it’s my call to make, not his.

“Is that all?” I ask.

“Isn’t that enough?”

More than enough.

Neither of us speaks another word as I climb out of the SUV and slam the door. While walking toward my house, I make a mental note to search my car for a GPS. Since I won’t be clocking in at the docks, I can spend all night tearing that damn Impala to pieces if need be.

I glance over my shoulder, a sadistic smile spreading across my face.

Or maybe I’ll just burn it.

Chapter Twelve

BECCA

Returning to my desk,I collapse into my chair and rub the pads of my fingers against my throbbing temples. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my phone screen ignite, but I can’t even put forth the energy it would take to block the call. So instead, I let it ring out, sitting motionless through three more cycles before it finally falls silent.

Avoiding my best friend feels awkward and wrong, but actions have consequences. Besides, I can only deal with one hero-laced devil at a time, and right now, my mind is obsessed with his absence.

“One can’t take a hint, and the other can’t keep his word,” I groan.

It shouldn’t bother me so much that Johnny missed his appointment. He’s just another patient.

Only he’s not.

“Yes, he is,” I mutter, only the words are hollower than his lingering accusation.

“You demand honesty from me, but what about you, Dr. Brennan? Where’s your truth?”

Seven days ago, I couldn’t answer that question. I’ve spun so many versions of “my truth” it’s hard to separate fact from fiction, especially since Johnny Malone darkened my doorstep. Now, nothing is black and white anymore.

Black and white.

As if pulled by a tether, my chin slowly turns to the monochrome paintings hanging silently on the wall. Johnny claimed penance is a lie because sins can’t be forgiven. Instead, they become an irreversible stain on the soul.

He’s right.That’smy truth.

They’remy truth.

Salomeis my irreversible stain. My sins hang on the wall for all to see—or at least for those depraved enough to seek them out. I’m not sure what frightens me more: the realization that Johnny found the key to my darkest secret or the twisted desire that thought awakens.

Closing my eyes, I push it away to a quiet corner of my mind to deal with later.Always later.Once I can think clearly, I turn to face the open laptop sitting on my desk.

Where was I?I scan the screen, wincing as the name of my first patient glares back at me.

“Right...” Stretching across the desk, I drag a stack of folders toward me. “Only six more session notes to go.”

Twenty minutes later, the words melt into a black blur against the screen. I can’t focus on any of my patients when my mind is a spinning waterwheel consumed by only one.

I round my desk, my heartbeat syncing with my heels as they click across the hardwood. Swinging my office door wide open, I storm into the lobby, barely skidding to a halt before barreling into the reception desk.

“Johnny never showed up,” I blurt out, slamming both palms onto the counter.