Prick.
“Keys,” I say to Marissa as I pass her. She hands them over and I walk ahead to unlock the door. I push it open and pause for a second to listen. When I hear nothing, I flip on the light switch to the right and look around. It looks exactly like it did a few nights ago when I came back to get Olivia’s stuff. That’s a good thing.
I guess I could kick shit out of the way, make it an easier path for Nash to navigate. But then I think of that smug twist of his lips and decide it might serve him right if he falls on his arrogant ass.
I look back to the door. The three of them are just standing there. “Well?” I prompt.
I see Nash and Olivia take a step forward. Marissa does not. Olivia looks over at her. “You know you don’t have to do this. You can go back to your dad’s. Or back to Cash’s. No one would blame you if you never wanted to come back here again.”
I gotta hand it to Olivia. She nailed it. Marissa looks scared shitless. She’s normally pale, but she looks almost dead in the low light.
Her eyes dart around the entryway and back to Olivia. I hear her take a shaky breath. I’ll admit, if this is an act, Marissa’s good. Damn good. Better than I would’ve given her credit for.
“No, I need to do this. I can’t live afraid forever. Get back on the horse, right?” she says with a weak smile.
“I’ll take Nash. You take your time.”
Marissa takes a deep breath and shakes her head. “No, I’m okay.”
Maybe it’s a family thing, that ability to physically convey the idea of picking oneself up by the bootstraps, because Marissa’s doing what I’ve seen Olivia do a few times. She’s picking herself up by her bootstraps. Maybe she’s got enough of Olivia in her to make her a half decent human being after all.
The three make their way into the apartment. By the time they reach the living room, I think Nash is supporting Marissa more than she’s supporting him.
“This way,” she says, steering them toward her bedroom. “He can have my room. I’ll take the couch.”
No one argues, least of all me. This wasn’t my idea. I’m sure as hell not taking the couch. My place is with Olivia. Marissa’s on her own.
When the girls start taking Nash’s coat and shirt off, I make an excuse to go wait for Gavin’s man. It sounds stupid, but it infuriates me to see her taking another man’s shirt off, even if that other man is my twin brother. In fact, that might make it worse. It’s like she’s doing it to me. Only not.
I’m pacing in front of the open front door, feeling testy as hell by the time a non-descript dark sedan pulls up at the curb. A short man gets out, casually looks around, slings some sort of bag over his shoulder and walks slowly up the sidewalk. When he reaches me, I’m surprised by his youth.
“Where’s the hurt one?” he asks flatly. Young or not, this guy is all business.
“And you are?” He might think I’m stupid, but he’d be mistaken.
“Delaney. Gavin asked me to come.”
“You a fly buddy of his?”
“No. Worked with him in Honduras.”
I’ve heard Gavin mention that place a couple of times. Apparently he was one of a few…specialists hired for some sort of job there. It went all to hell. Just from what little I’ve heard him say, for mercs it was like being in the trenches during war time. If this guy was with him, I can see how they could’ve become indebted to one another.
“This way,” I say, taking him back to Marissa’s room.
We all stand around like curious onlookers as he patches Nash up. He must have a pharmacy and one hellacious emergency kit of some kind in that bag of his. He gives Nash a couple of shots and cleans his wound with some sort of solution he has to pop open in a tube to use. He sticks a needle full of something else (my guess would be Lidocaine or something like that) into Nash’s stab wound then he breaks out some sterile gloves and sutures to stitch him up.
When he’s done, he sets a bottle of pills on the nightstand, tells Nash to take one three times a day for two weeks then he nods to him and gets up to leave.
I walk him to the door, mainly because I still don’t trust the guy. He steps onto the stoop, turns back to give me one curt nod and then just walks away. That’s it.
Killers—they’re a different breed. That’s for sure.
I wait until the females are done fussing over Nash before I make any suggestions.
“Well, I guess it’s time we all get some rest.”
“Marissa, are you sure you won’t take my bed? You’ve been through so much…”
She smiles at Olivia, obviously touched by her offer. “No, I think I’ll stay with him a little longer. You two go ahead.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. That couch is really comfortable anyway.”
“It really is,” Olivia agrees. They smile at each other, sharing some sort of inside joke it seems. It makes me respect Olivia that much more that she can so easily and readily bury the hatchet with someone who’s treated her so badly. But that’s just who she is. It’s part of what makes her so incredible.
“All right, I guess we’ll head to bed then. I need a shower and then I’ll probably be out like a light.”
“Goodnight,” Marissa says, walking around the bed to perch on the side opposite Nash. “Hey, Liv?”
Damn! We were almost home free, I think as Olivia stops near the door.
She turns to look at Marissa. Again, it seems even I can see the difference in Marissa. Maybe this was just the thing she needed to jerk a knot in her ass.
“Thanks.”
They share another look. Olivia smiles. Marissa smiles. “That’s what family’s for.”
Finally, we escape Nash and Marissa. Olivia doesn’t say much, just gathers up some stuff and takes it into the bathroom. A few minutes later, I hear the shower cut on. A few minutes after that, I hear it shut off. Being the guy that I am, I’m a little pissed that I wasn’t invited. Of course, I could’ve just gone in and joined her anyway, but if she’s still irritated with me, that wouldn’t be the wisest move.
I take off my clothes, climb into bed and turn out the lights, settling in to await her. We’re going to hash this out before morning, one way or the other.
Quietly, the bathroom door opens. Her room is very dark and the door is closed, so I can’t see her, but I can hear her light footsteps as she approaches the bed. Gently, she peels back the covers and eases in beside me. I wait until she gets comfortable before I speak.
“There’s something I want you to understand,” I begin. I hear her sharp inhalation. “What?”
“You scared the crap out of me.”
“Did you think I’d just go right to sleep, knowing you’re upset?”
I’m a little ticked off at that.
“I just don’t understand how you could care so little about what happens to Marissa.”