With a glare of distrust, I turned back to him. “If you’re going to throw another tantrum, there’s really no need to talk.”
He set his coffee cup down and squatted beside me. “I promise. No tantrums. Would you just give me a chance to explain?”
He wasn’t in uniform, and I was sure he’d come over just to talk to me, having no idea he’d be met by a room full of uniforms. After giving Teddy’s hand another quick squeeze, I led Taft into the bedroom, where we could talk in private. Reyes followed. That worried me. I didn’t want to have to explain why Taft’s spinal cord was severed if he did anything stupid. It would be awkward. I’d probably have to make a statement, and I wasn’t good at statements. I was much better at icy glares and smart-ass comebacks.
I plopped onto my bed, leaving Taft no choice but to stand. The only chair in the room was home to several pairs of jeans, a lace camisole, and a pristine pair of government-issue handcuffs. Oh, and pepper spray. A girl’s gotta have her some pepper spray. He leaned against my dresser, bracing his hands on either side of his hips.
But Reyes … Reyes was another story. He must have been growing impatient. He hovered beside me, brushed against my arm, feathered a breath over my ear, ruffling the hair at the nape of my neck. His nearness kick-started my libido. Knowing what the man was capable of, I started to shake. My lack of control where he was concerned was getting ridiculous.
Demon Child strolled in then and stopped short at the door, her eyes as wide as flying saucers as she took note of Reyes. While I couldn’t really see him—he was all dark fog and mist—she must have been getting an eyeful. Her jaw dropped, and she stood there, staring at him.
As if suddenly uncomfortable with the audience, Reyes moved to the window, and a chill settled over me with his absence. Demon Child stood stock-still, as if afraid to move. It was funny.
“This morning,” Taft said, luring me back to the task at hand, “the girl you described wasn’t from the accident scene.”
“Duh. Figured that.” My attitude didn’t seem to faze him.
He lowered his chin, clenched his hands on the dresser. “It was my sister.”
Damn. I should have known this went deeper than just some kid he knew from elementary school.
“She drowned in a lake by my parents’ house,” he added, his voice strained with sadness.
“He tried to save me,” Demon Child said, her eyes still locked on Reyes. “He almost died trying to save me.”
Steeling my heart against the daughter of Satan, refusing to notice her tiny arms locked at her sides, her large blue eyes glowing in wonder, her doll-like mouth slightly agape, I leveled my best scowl of disgust on her.
“Gross,” I said.
“What?” She finally tore her eyes off Reyes, but only for a split second before relocking onto him as if she had a radar tracking system in her corneas.
“You love him so much?” I asked her, quoting her earlier sentiment. “He’s your brother.”
“Is she here?” Taft asked.
“Not now, Taft. We have more serious issues to deal with at the moment.”
Strawberry’s expression morphed into bemusement as she finally focused on me. “But I do love him. He tried to save me. He was in the hospital for a week with pneumonia from all the water that got into his lungs.”
“I get that,” I said, raising a hand as if giving witness in church. I keep forgetting that there are siblings out there who actually love each other. “But he’s still your brother. You can’t be stalking him like this. It’s just wrong.”
Her bottom lip quivered. “He doesn’t want me around anymore, anyway.”
Double damn. Concentrating on anything besides the tears gathering between her lashes—taxes, nuclear war, poodles—I asked, “What do you want to do?”
“I want to stay with him.” She wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of her pajamas, then sat on the floor with her legs crossed. She started drawing circles in the carpet and allowed her eyes to stray to Reyes for only brief moments at a time. “But if he doesn’t want me…”
Pulling in a long, tired breath, I said to Taft, “She tells me you tried to save her.”
He looked at me in surprise.
“That you spent a week in the hospital afterwards.”
“How does she know that?”
“I was there,” she said. “The whole time.”
I relayed what she was saying to Taft and watched as his expression became more and more astounded with every word.
“She said you hate green Jell-O now, which you’ve refused to eat since your stay in the hospital.”
“She’s right,” he said.
“Do you want her to go?”
My question threw him. He stumbled over one answer after another before finally saying, “No. I don’t want her to go. But I think she’d be happier somewhere else.”
“No, I wouldn’t!” she yelled, jumping to her feet and scrambling beside him. She grabbed his pant leg as if holding on for dear life.
“She wants to stay, but only if you want her to.”
After a moment, I realized Taft was visibly shaking. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Me neither. I wasn’t kidding when I said she was evil.”
Ignoring me, Taft said, “If she wants to stay, I’d love to have her. But I don’t know how to talk to her. How to communicate.”