Page 64 of Cry, Little Dove

I lock up and hang the keys on a hook by the door. I leave my jacket over the railing of the stairs, loosening my bow tie as I skulk after Erica into the kitchen.

She holds up two bottles of wine. “Red or white?”

I run a hand over my hair, cracking the gel cast slicking back my curls. “Whatever you wanna drink.”

She puts the white on the counter before opening the bottle of red with a corkscrew from the drawers by the oven.

“You’re confusing me, Erica. I can’t make sense of your behavior. What’s gotten into you?”

She takes two glasses from a cabinet and pours too much wine into both before walking past me to the roofed terrace, drinks in hand. I follow again. She sits on one of the outdoor sofas by the fire pit, leaving one glass for me on the side table.

I stop in front of her and throw my arms into the air. “If you hate me, if you don’t wanna talk to me or be around me… why didn’t you turn me in? So you can punish me with silence now? You’re the only person whoreallyknows me, and you can’t take that away from me without any explanation. I’m begging you!”

My eyes burn with unshed tears. I blink them away, watching Erica’s impassionate face for a reaction while she takes small sips of wine. She’s staring at nothing.

I grit my teeth, letting my hands fall to my thighs. Does she have to be so stubborn?

I know I’m approaching the topic too forcefully. The more I push, the more she pulls away. I take a deep breath. My frustration ain’t what she needs, but I can’t help the desperation cutting into my heart.

Have I finally lost her?

I make a fire and sit next to her. The flames cast flickering lights across her empty expression, reflecting in her hollow gaze. She seems far, far away.

“We gotta talk about what happened, little dove,” I say softly.

“No, we don’t. It’s no big deal.”

“You can’t be serious.” I rub across my forehead, trying to calm my frayed nerves. The interrogation was stressful, but Erica shutting me out is worse. “You saved my life, and now you say it’s no big deal? It’s ahugedeal!”

She’s not looking at me, her voice thin and low. “You don’t have to worry about it, Cain. It’s fine. I just repaid the favor.”

“What—repaid what favor?”

She twirls the stem of her glass and a sarcastic grin curls her lips. “The night you abducted me… I was going to kill myself.”

My heart shatters into a million jagged pieces. Thick silence fills my lungs like smoke. I can’t breathe, yanking at my collar to loosen it more.

The untouched sleeping pills… that’s why she had them in her bag?

If I hadn’t met her in that gas station, if she hadn’t thrown me off my axis and stolen my heart at first glance… I would have lost my soulmate before I ever had a chance to find her.

Erica gives me a sidelong glance, putting her empty glass on the table. “Ironic, huh? Your plan to kill me saved my life. We’re even now.”

My hand shakes as I lay it on her knee. She doesn’t move, but at least she isn’t repulsed by my touch.

“You didn’t tell the FBI because you think youoweme?” I ask.

Her lips tremble and she clenches her teeth. She’s still avoiding me, like she’s afraid I might see something more in her eyes than she wants me to know.

“You never owed me anything, Erica. Shit, I had no clue. Saving you is the best damn thing I’ve ever done, and I’d do it again, do it earlier, do it better… but I’m a fuckin’ killer. I’m a sick, evil man, and nobody knows that better than you. One word about the kidnapping or the murders and the feds would’ve been all over me.” I shake my head, my throat tight with emotions. “Please, I have to know… why did you protect me?”

Her head snaps to me, tears dancing in her eyes. “I don’t know!” The desperation in her voice makes my blood go cold. “It’s driving me crazy! I should have told them the truth, but I couldn’t! What the fuck is wrong with me?”

Her words drown in sobs and I hug her, cradling her head against my chest. In my embrace, she seems smaller than ever before, so fragile I never wanna let her go out into this cruel world on her own again.

“Nothing is wrong with you, darlin’.” I whisper, kissing her hair. “I’m sorry I pushed you too hard. We don’t have to talk about it. Not today, not ever. But I want you to know that I’m grateful.”

She cries harder, her shoulders shaking, her hands twisting into my shirt. As if the sky cries with her, thunder rolls in the distance and a drizzle speckles the tiles beyond the roof. It’s no secret that seeing her suffer usually turns me on and her tears get me hard, but not like this. This feels all kinds of fuckin’ wrong. It feels like being gutted with a dull, rusty knife.

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