Secrets - [Guardian Trilogy 01] (21 page)

“I think it’s best if you don’t examine my character right at this moment.”

“I just can’t figure you out.”

“Did you ever think that might be for the best?”

“No.
All
puzzles are meant to be solved.”

“You’re going to do your best to make my life difficult, aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. Much to my chagrin, I was looking forward to her making my life difficult. She singularly held the power in her hands to ruin all that I worked so hard for, all that I had given up so much for—and I had no desire to stop her. Olivia returned my grin like she knew I understood her. “So what should we talk about?” she asked.

“Anything you want.”

“Well nothing too serious this afternoon. I think I’m emotionally maxed out for the day. Between Christopher’s funeral, Jules, and your and my always exhausting conversations, I don’t think I can take anymore. Tell me something mundane. Some boring detail about yourself that a
friend
would know.”

“The only way I’ll agree to this, is if you play too. For everything you tell me, I’ll tell you something.”

“A quid pro quo, Dr. Lector?”

            “Something like that.”

“Deal. I’m an only child.”

It’d been such a long time since I’d thought about who I used to be, I had trouble coming up with anything to say. “I had a younger brother. He died a long time ago.”

Olivia’s face dissolved into a mass of sympathy. “My dad passed away last year, but my mom is still alive.”

“My dad was never in the picture, and my mom is gone.”

“I’m sorry.” She took my hand.

“It’s okay. They were all long time ago.”

“I like brussel sprouts,” she blurted out with perfect randomness—an attempt, I suspected, to spare me any more painful questions.

I found it strangely endearing that she was being so careful of my feelings. “You got me there.” I thought for a moment about something I could say that would put her at ease too. “I like you.”

“You don’t even know me.” Her eyes smiled despite her words and serious expression.

“Any girl who could have such strange and twisted dreams has definitely earned my affection,” I spoke lightly, but I felt the truth of my words. She most definitely had my affection.

“My favorite movie is ‘It’s a Wonderful Life.’”

Of course it was.
“True Grit.” I wasn’t sure if it was my favorite movie, but it brought back memories, good and bad.

“When I was a kid I understood that the world was round, but I thought we lived inside of it. Like the bottom half was land and the top was atmosphere and that was why the sky looked like a half circle and rockets had to go so fast so they could break through it.” I could picture her as a precocious, bright-eyed little girl trying to understand everything around her.

My childhood hadn’t been quite so ideal. I searched the recesses of my memories for something that she wouldn’t think of as a sensitive subject. “I used to ride horses every day.”

“Do you still ride?” she asked with an incredulous tone, as if she couldn’t picture me on a horse.

“No.”

 “Clowns scare me.”

“Losing.”

“Are you going to elaborate on that?”

“No.” How could I even began to tell her that because of me she would be marked and killed. That my failure to end her would be the death of both of us. We were okay now, because it was daylight and they wouldn’t be watching, but eventually they would catch on, and what I felt in the theater would only be the beginning. This idea of having a relationship was little more than a house of cards. I didn’t want to think about everything I could lose because it did scare me.

“I’m a photographer.”

“I know that.”

She smiled slyly, “But what do you do?”

“It’s not important.”

“Is it illegal?”

“Illegal to whose way of thinking?” I flashed a devilish grin, and she shot back a not amused look. “Yes, I mostly deal with the illegal.”

Her eyes grew wide and her face blanched. I could practically see the wheels turning behind her eyes, but she didn’t say anything. My stomach twisted. Would this be it? Would she finally leave me?

“Are you a drug dealer?”

“No.”

“Are you in the mafia?”

I chuckled nervously waiting for the ax to drop. “No.”

“Would you tell me if I guessed it right?”

“Yes, if you guess it right, I’ll tell you, but please don't batter me with a string of guesses. Trust me, you don't want to know.” The longer she waited the more hope I had that she would stay regardless of what I told her. Maybe she could accept everything about me.

“Do you not see the hypocrisy in this? You ask me to trust you, an admitted criminal. How can you ask me to think of you as trustworthy when you keep telling me you're not?”

And maybe she couldn’t. I didn't say anything for a long time, I wasn't sure how to reply. “I’ve never lied to you. I may not tell you everything, but I can promise I won't lie—”

“How do I know you aren’t just lying about that?” She ran her fingers through her hair, “How illegal are we talking? Like music pirating or money laundering?”

I straightened in my chair and broke eye contact with her, “I understand if you can't accept this arrangement. I don’t expect you to. You deserve more than I can offer you, and you'll be much happier without me. I'll let you go.”

“Letting me go would imply you have me.”

“My mistake.”

My stony heart cracked when her eyes filled with tears. She would never look at me the same again and in the grand scheme of things, I had only shared with her a small secret.

“I wish I wouldn’t have asked,” she mumbled.

“It's for the best, Olivia.”

I paid for our uneaten meal and walked Olivia back to her car.

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed me on the cheek and whispered in my ear, “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, it was inevitable.” I wiped away her tears, “Take care of yourself.” She climbed into her car and drove away without looking back.

I went to my car and sat for a while staring into nothing. This really was for the best, but worry still ate away at me. What if I was leaving her too late? Someone broke into her house, and there was definitely something evil in the theater, I would stand watch one more night. I drove slowly to her apartment, so I wouldn’t catch up with her.

Fifteen

Holden was gone. I was happy for a few brief moments with him before reality came crashing down. He was dangerous, I knew that, and mysterious. I should have known better than to let myself fall for him so fast.

Was this infatuation? Lust? Something deeper? One minute he looked at me like I was a forbidden bottle of water after he’d been stranded in the desert, and the next he brushed me off. It all came to a head over lunch, the dance couldn’t last forever. I couldn’t be with a criminal, it didn’t matter if the puzzle was unsolved. As much as it broke my heart to drive away, my conscience would have it no other way.

I didn’t know how long it would take to forget Holden, if I even could. Everything in my life felt like it was on the verge—though the verge of what I had no idea. I could feel change rumbling beneath the surface. I didn't know if it was good or bad change, but I could feel from my toes to my hair that it was coming whether or not I was ready.

Riding up the elevator to my apartment, I was sad, but my brief escapade with Holden did make me acknowledge I didn’t want to be alone anymore. I needed to reawaken the zest for life I used to have that seemed to have gotten stale with adult responsibilities. If could take anything away from Christopher's death, it was that I had to live life while I could because no one could say what the next day would bring. I pushed open my apartment door and flipped the light switch.

My world shattered all around me.

I heard my purse hit the floor. Time stopped, then stuttered forward in slow motion. My knees gave out beneath me. I crumpled to the floor, unable to tear my eyes away from what was before me. Finally a scream that sounded foreign to me ripped from my throat and echoed in my ears.

It could’ve been seconds, maybe hours, but at some point people started peeking out from their apartment doors to see what was happening. “Call 911.”

Another voice murmured, “She’s in shock.”

Slowly more and more people fluttered around me. And slow motion ceased, then accelerated—suddenly everything was spinning and moving fast. Everything except me. I was frozen, hypnotized by the swinging pendulum of legs and feet. Someone took me by the shoulders and pulled me to standing. Then I was sitting on a couch surrounded by strangers in an unfamiliar room. People asked me question after question, but I couldn’t understand them. I closed my eyes hoping they’d all disappear. All I could see were those same feet swinging with a sickening finality. With every lifeless arc a little piece of my soul died. I could feel wetness on my face. I reached up, needing to touch something tactile and real.

“Ms. Martin …” A persistent and patient voice of authority pushed its way through my despair. I looked up at a frumpy middle-aged man with a graying mustache.

“Ms. Martin?” I could feel my head nod. “Are you the primary resident of that apartment?”