Page 40 of The Butterfly Killer

“Excuse me,officer. I’m so sorry I interrupted you when you were clearly handling the situation.”

Marcus straitened up. His face went serious.

“I didn’t say that.” His fists clenched around the thin blanket.

Roman took another drink, eyes still on Marcus before he sat his mug back down. He licked his lips. Marcus’s eyes darted to the movement and then quickly to Roman’s eyes again—though that wasn’t much better.

Roman shrugged. “If he didn’t do that to you, then you must have stepped on it wrong when you were running.”

There was finality in Roman’s voice that Marcus didn’t agree with. He didn’t understand why exactly it made him angry. Perhaps it had to do with Roman’s tone. He spoke more-so at Marcus than to him. Like he was commenting on how silly a dog was being.

His face flushed not because of a fever for the first time since arriving here. The flush was a mix of embarrassment and fury for becoming the butt of the joke.

He seethed, clenching the blanket so hard his hands began to cramp. As much as he wanted to march over to the smug bastard, he couldn’t. He’d fall flat on his face if he tried to walk on his bad leg.

At the thought of it, he remembered why he’d been so pissed off at the man recently—because Marcus had many reason to be pissed at Roman.

He could barely stand to look at it. His wrapped fingers stretched out toward it, reminding him of his other injuries.

How had he ended up this way?

The question was rhetorical. He knew exactly how he ended up here. He just didn’t know why.

That reminded him of Roman’s words from before.

“What do you need me for?” He didn’t look away from his swollen ankle. He grazed the bruised flesh with the tip of his fingers. It was swollen and felt slightly hard. That couldn’t be good.

Roman reached for the pocket on his flannel shirt but paused. He pulled his hand away, turning his face while scrunching his mouth.

“Don’t worry about that. Focus on getting better.”

The words were dry. They were almost rehearsed and robotic. Marcus didn’t believe them for a second.

Roman reached for his pocket again. He cursed under his breath, snatching his hand away and then slamming the first onthe armrest. He abruptly got up, kicking the throw blanket to the side as he strode over to the kitchen.

He roughly poured a cup of tea and brought it over to Marcus. He shoved it at Marcus without a word.

“Tell me,” Marcus ordered while ignoring the steaming liquid being forced upon him.

Roman narrowed his eyes. “Sorry, officer. I think you’ve forgotten where exactly you are. This isn’t a debate.”

He shoved the drink into Marcus’s chest. Marcus refused to flinch when the side of the cup burned him through his shirt.

“You won’t kill me until you get what you want.” He didn’t believe for a second that he was going to make Roman crumble. But there was a stubborn part of him that thought he might be able to annoy the man enough to give him something.

Roman slowly leaned closer. Marcus was strong enough to stop his eyes from widening, but not enough to stop himself from leaning back. Roman’s upper lip slightly curled as he glared into Marcus’s eyes.

“There is a lot I can do and still keep you alive.” Marcus flinched when Roman touched his other hand to his chest. He pressed his fingers between Marcus’s ribs. “I know my way around a body very well.”

Then, he straightened up, leaving Marcus gasping for air that kept evading.

The stoic look Roman wore so well was on his face again. He continued to hold the cup of tea out for Marcus to take. With shaking hands, he did, only because his brain was still trying to unravel his thoughts amidst the scary sickness overriding it.

The cup burned his hands. He continued holding it anyway.

“Drink up.”

Roman turned away, reaching for his breast pocket again and cursing when he came up empty.

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