Page 54 of Sullied Saints

Chapter seven

Westepintohisapartment.

What time we've had has both stalled and raced to this, a finish line of sorts. We’re as prepared as we can be for what needs to be done. And whether that’s enough, we’re yet to see.

Dirk and I are only stopping in briefly, long enough for Dirk to get his gun and badge, before we go to the station. And then… onwards.

The date has closed in on us. Tomorrow will be Cassandra’s next kill. She’ll do it, we know she will.

So, our plan has to be carried out tonight, and she knows it. She’ll be expecting us. The aim is not to surprise her, but still, knowing she’ll be waiting, whatever goes on in that twisted brain of hers fermenting as we near, sets my teeth on edge. I long for an evening spent on the couch, cooking, cuddling.

Anything but what we have to do.

I need to say the words. "I don't think you should come."

He turns around, at first confused.

"When we take Needler, I don’t think you should come."

Brow drawing down, Dirk asks, "What?"

I step up to him, gripping his arm, but his expression doesn't change. "She's playing games with you. The trauma you have from…"

"Don't tell me about my trauma," he snaps, pulling away, turning his back on me.

I take a breath. I was hoping he'd react better, but… "Dirk, please just listen. If you’re there, there's a chance that she'll target you."

Swinging back around, he says, "Of course she will. You know who else she’ll target? You.”

My jaw clenches. “Possibly, but…”

“And so what if she will? I should let you and the others go into danger while I hang back and think about my feelings?"

"That’s not what I'm saying…"

"Then what are you saying?" His voice rises. "Because that’s sure as hell what it sounds like you're suggesting."

"I'm worried about you! Can't you understand that?" His jaw works, but he stays silent. "If you were hurt… I don't think I could take it again."

Dirk shakes his head once, as though dislodging the idea, the emotion. "I'm not leaving you with Needler."

"You think this is about Needler?" I ask, mouth falling open. "It's not about him!"

"Isn't it?" Dirk's eyes narrow. "You're so concerned with keeping him from Cocooner's 'mercy', when you know full well he can take care of himself."

"This is different…"

"But you also," he cuts me off, "don't want to see him shipped away to White Rock or even the prison. You don't know what you want to happen to him because you don't know how you feel about him."

Stunned, I stare back at him. "That’s really what you think? That I'mconfusedabout my feelings?"

"Yes! It is."

"And what are you in this scenario?"

Dirk spreads his hands. "Filler?"

"Ugh! I'll tell you what you are." I step closer and jab my finger against his chest. "An idiot. Andstillan asshole." I move to swing away, to leave and let him live out his fantasies on his own. Whatever, so long as he’s in here and not out there when we deliver Tristan.

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