Faithless (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (57 page)

“Thank you,” Roman grunts. I offer him some more water, but he pushes it away. “I remember… you there with me. Thank… you.”

“Any time,” I flippantly say. It’s not as if I’ve been having nightmares about Roman bleeding out on me, or anything. I haven’t been able to sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see it all over again with alternative endings of horror. I’ve stayed with Roman because I had to make sure he was still breathing so I could still breathe.

“Pun…ish… ment?

“Okay, let’s talk about the bad shit, shall me,” I tease. “
The Meyers lost a year’s worth of voting rights. Mitchell’s not allowed to call a meeting or vote. He’s not allowed to make any plays, but he is allowed to protect and block any plays that directly impact his family, and only after it has come to a vote. No one could prove that Mitchell ordered the hit on you. If they could have, Mitchell would’ve been executed,” I blandly say, as if I’m not speaking of murder- the murder of my biological grandfather.

“Good,” Roman grunts. “When I’m… healed… better watch… out.”

“I’m right with ya on that, buddy.” I stand from the chair with a moan. I’m wicked sore from the floor. I need a bed and a good soak in a bathtub to loosen up my muscles. I wander over to the
get well soon
goodies. I’d hidden something private for Roman among the floral arrangements, cards, stuffed animals, and Mylar balloons.

“The ‘hood made you a card,” I say with a
goofy grin. “A lot of your regulars miss your gorgeous ass, but Stanton replaced you already.” I hand Roman the card with hundreds of signatures. I can see Roman’s wheels spinning, thinking of the future.

“You have a new boss now. Grant will house you, feed you, school you, train you, and employ you. He’s a great man, Roman,
” I affectionately say. “Grant’s giving you a future you wouldn’t have found otherwise. You have some time to think of what you’d like to do and Grant will make sure you get what you want.”

“Why?” Roman gasps, eyes tearing up from the card or from our conversation- I don’t know which.

“Regina,” I simply answer. “She’s a good judge of character. Here,” I hand Roman a card my sister made. It looks like the tiny ballerina threw up pink and glitter, but it’s sweet. “Stanton’s guys all signed it. I think Julio helped Bianca make it.”

“Yeah…” Roman grins. “Julio… likes pink.” I snort because Roman is trying to laugh, but
ends up sounding like a dying animal.

“
Now, you had a very important visitor- your first visitor. So I will give this to you and give you some privacy, but I won’t leave the room. Okay?” I hand Roman a note and a check that Regina had pressed in Roman’s hand when she was here. I’m glad I found it sticking out from between his fingers before a nurse had. Lord knows what they could have done with that amount of money.

I fold up on the floor on the blanket I’ve cuddle up in for the past four days. I can’t keep the smile off my face. I was so worried about Roman. I felt responsible for him for so many reasons. The biggest reason is that it was my grandfather that tried to kill him because of my sister and me. I feel at ease because I helped save him even if I was partially at fault for his attempted murder- break
even.

Stanton had surprised me. I prop the study guide
on my knees and pretend to read as a way of giving Roman privacy. Stanton signed me up for classes so I can become an Emergency Medical Technician. My first class is in a few weeks- poor Julio, I bet he has to take classes, too, whether he wants to or not. It was Stanton’s way of giving me freedom to choose a path, but at the same time, controlling how I take the path.

Roman sniffling hurts my heart
. “Are you okay?” I whisper, not wanting to disturb him, but needing him to know I’ll be here for him if he needs me.

“Yeah,” Roman says with one last sniffle. I want to wipe Roman’s face, but I give him the dignity he deserves. I look down at my book and read about CPR.

Almost an hour goes by when Roman says, “Why… Syn?”

“Hmm? Why what?”

“Name,” Roman whispers.

“My name?” I ask, looking up at him. Roman’s blue-green gaze is back to
being vibrant and crystal clear, and I can finally breathe deep- he’s going to be just fine. “My name is Faith. My momma named me, but after the last year of my life, I’ve been Faithless,” I boldly say. “I’ve legally changed my name to Cynthia Brooks after my grammy. A faithless person is filled with sin, hence the nickname Syn for Cynthia.”

“A faithless… person… isn’t filled with sin. They’re… just… lost,” Roman grumbles.

My breath hitches in my throat. I’m speechless. Roman and I just stare at each other and I have no idea for how long. The whisper of the door opening startles us.

“Hey,” Grant cheerily says. “He’s alive.” A delighted chuckle erupts from Grant- he’s so
damn infectious that you can’t help but smile and laugh with him. “I was worried.”

Grant walks over to me and tugs me to my feet. I receive a warm hug and a kiss to the cheek. “Thanks for watching over him,” Grant murmurs in my ear. “It will only be for another week or so.”

“I’ll donate all the time in the world,” I readily say. “I’m just glad he made it.” I squeeze Grant with all my might, soaking in the warmth of his familiar embrace and scent. I’ve been extra sentimental for the past few days. I’ve written letters to anyone who means a damn to me. I gave Grant his note three days ago.

“Oh fuck,” I groan as Grant kneads my back with his fingertips. “If you stop
, I’ll beg,” I moan.

“I’ll give you a full body massage as soon as Roman is released,” Grant promises as he steps from my arms. “So… We have so
me life plans to discuss… if you’re ready,” Grant flashes Roman his baby-blues and dimples.

Roman blinks at Grant.
“I just… woke up,” Roman grumbles.

“Yeah, I know.
I don’t want you worried about anything. You’re safe and taken care of. I just want to tell you what I’ve been up to.” Grant leans against Roman’s bed, patting the back of the younger man’s hand. He has a better bedside manner than all the doctors and nurses I’ve observed over the past few days. Grant would have been the perfect, reassuring, honest politician if he hadn’t been introverted.

“O…kay,” Roman grunts in time with mine as I sit back on the floor. God, I hurt.
Another week of this shit and I’ll be in traction. But it will be worth it if Roman is alive and well.

“
I bought a Brownstone in your name as your new home. It’s fifteen blocks north of your neighborhood.”

“You… didn’t have… to do that,” Roman slurs in shock. I can tell he is uncomfortable by the generous gift.

“It’s not just for you. You’ll never have free roam of the place,” Grant says to ease Roman’s anxiety. “I needed a quiet, safe place to get away and write. I’d feel more comfortable being near you since you’re my enforcer. Plus, my friend will be there often. It’s not a duplex, but the inside is semi-divided. So Marcus won’t bother you much. He… um… he has certain needs,” Grant stumbles over the words.

“What kind of needs does Marc have?”
I ask with extreme interest, eyes lighting up like Christmas for a tasty morsel of gossip.

“Uh-huh… no,” Grant denies me.

“Why?” I whine.

“
The kind of needs that are none of your business since you’re still a kid and Stanton would beat my ass if I told you,” Grant displays snark that I didn’t know he had in him. I grin at him for being a shit. “Stan won’t even allow
me
to be alone with you until you’re eighteen,” Grant complains to me, and then turns back to Roman. “So Marc is a good guy. Syn loves Marc, don’t ya, hun?” Grant flashes me his pearly whites.

“Who are you trying to convince, Grant, Roman or yourself?” I taunt
Grant because he sounds so desperate to make Roman happy… to make Marcus happy… to be a martyr for their happiness. “Yeah, Marc’s a cool guy. He even taught me how to drive. He’s a younger version of Stanton- just not as uptight. He knows how to take a joke.”

“
That he does,” Grant murmurs, a secret grin plays along his lips as he’s lost in a fond memory of Marcus. “So half of the house is yours and the other half Marc and I will share for when we need… privacy,” Grant stresses. “Beware: Marc only knows who you are in relation to Regina, but absolutely nothing of the game. So keep your mouth shut about the game. I’m your benefactor and mentor- that’s it. I’m not your elder when we’re around Marcus.”

“Why?” Roman gurgles. “He… he is… inductee.”

“That’s a vote,” Grant growls. “Marcus and Regina will be stalked and tortured until the elders get bored. Then we will vote to tell them that they’ve been an experiment for our twisted entertainment. By the time they officially join us, they will be viciously pissed. It will make the game very bloody, as the elders wish. Inductees may not even know until they are officially Elders and it’s too late. Adding a bloodline is tricky shit. The Elders even voted to reset the Zeitler line when Rebekah passed.”

“
Why not just tell Marcus,” I dryly add. “It would be more fun for us. Man, Marc would rock the game. Regina would be a force to be reckoned with,” I dreamily murmur, lost in imagination land where we kick asses and take names.

“
Faith, you want to be the judge, jury, and executioner of the game, but you’re talking about breaking the rules- the rule that has death as a consequence,” Grant growls, looking feral, like a scared, cornered animal.

“I’m sure there is a loophole or some shit,” I growl back
, not intimidated in the least- Grant is a marshmallow- a pissed off marshmallow, but a marshmallow none the less.

“No such luck. I’ve wracked my brain for nearly a decade.
Don’t ever tell Marcus and Regina, Syn. I mean it,” Grant’s voice breaks out of fear. “Marc is my best friend and Regina is the mother of my child. I lie to their faces every day to protect them and it kills something inside of me to do it. But I do it because if they are told, they are executed- you of all people understand the gravity of life and death. Once dead, they are no more- gone- poof- nonexistent!” Grant practically shouts while glaring at me.

“I won’t
tell,” I softly vow in a quivery voice- Grant’s never been so firm with me before. He’s terrified, and I don’t want him to be. “I’ll do all I can to protect them, Grant. I promise. I love them both, too. I will be at every meeting, every vote. I will try to sway people to block moves. I know Fate will protect Regina, and you will, and Stanton will for us. I don’t know about Pearl or Ezra. It depends on who is in control of Ez at the time. I will protect your family because it’s mine, too,” I vow, tears filling my eyes.

“Oh, Faith,” Grant cries, crouching in front of me. “Sometimes I forget how awfully young you are because when you’re speaking you sound and feel older in my mind. Sometimes you feel older to me than I am.” Grant’s fingers ghost along my cheeks, collecting tears I hadn’t realized I’d cried.

“I’m trying,” I grumble.

“You try too hard,” Grant whispers and pulls me into a comforting hug.

A throat clears at the doorway and I stifle the need to groan. It’s Stanton’s pissy
you’re going to get lectured to within an inch of your life
throat clearing.

“I will stand sentinel for a few hours, Syn,” Stanton directs at only me, refusing to look at Grant. He’s pissed at Grant for some reason. “Go home, shower and eat, and take a nap with your sister. She misses you desperately. I will be here until you return.”

“I’m okay,” I mumble.

“It wasn’t a request,” Stanton barks, a thorn in his paw the size of two-by-four. “I’m sure I can protect Roman just fine, especially since Grant will be joining us.”

“Fine,” I grumble. I wince as I rise to my feet. Grant’s hand is readily available to help me steadily stand.

“Stay alive,” I order Roman as I leave the room. Stanton shuts the door so quickly that it brushes my back.

“You coddle her too much,” Stanton’s pissed off growly bear voice flows through the door. Julio grabs my arm to walk me out. I shake my head and put a finger to my lips to shush the big guy. Julio is a cool dude. He puts his ear to the door and grins.

“Faith is becoming too dependent on your affections. She’s in a vulnerable state right now, Grant. We can’t have her developing an unnatural attachment to you.”

“I’m not being inappropriate,” Grant hisses.

“That’s why you are never alone with her,” Stanton says.

“I have enough shit to deal with, Stan. I have a loveless wife, a mistress, and two kids. My enforcer is lying right here,” Grant nearly shouts. “I lie to everyone I love. If I want to comfort Faith, I fucking will.”

“Watch
your tone,” Stanton demands. “You’re getting too attached to Faith, too. You both are desperate for friends that can relate to what you’re going through. You need friends your own age- and not the female kind. Faith needs female friends she can relate to. I’m thinking of bringing Kris in once I know I can trust her.”

“That would be good for them both,” Grant softly mutters.

“Grant, you’re a good guy. You’re still young-”

“Jesus Christ, Stan. I’m twenty-five. Don’t you dare pull that kid shit with
me. You only turned thirty a few months ago!” Grant shouts in outrage.