Page 92 of Hate Wrecked

“You’re not fired, and I’m glad for it. You have plenty of talent. You’re smart and adaptable. Your training period and the reports from Tom and Allan have been impressive, though I might need to look a little further into those reports because they make no mention of you being alone with the Williams girl.”

I nodded.

“Which means you were smart about it. Smart about not being caught. And I don’t know whether to note that as a good or bad thing.”

I hung my head, then looked up to Nigel. He was everything I wish my father had been in this profession: professional, hardworking, and a leader. And, I guess my father was all those things; he just lost the plot.

“I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again.”

“I imagine it won’t,” Nigel said. “To be completely honest, it’s not uncommon—something I believe you’re aware of. We spend our lives protecting them, navigating their worlds, on the fringes. Depending on the client, sometimes we get close to them. You have to read the room; it’s welcomed at times and off-limits at others. In this case, the girl welcomed the relationship, but she wasn’t really our client—Asa was.”

“I understand.” I understood Asa was a fucking prick, and I was glad I wouldn’t be working for him anymore.

“Good. Now, for your reassignment. This one will be a little less exciting. Do you know the singer Ava?”

I choked on a breath. “As inAvaAva? As in, she just goes by Ava?” Madonna and Prince were stars who went by one name. They didn’t need another. Ava was known all over the world. And…in her 70s?

“Yes, that Ava. You’ll be joining her team. It’s pretty laid-back. She doesn’t go anywhere. She is enjoying the quiet life up in the hills. She also has an estate in Montana, where she spends a bit of time, and another in France. You’ll be traveling all over. And she takes her safety seriously. There will be ten of you. That may seem too overboard, but she likes the security.”

“I imagine I won’t learn a lot in that environment. It’s not as fast-paced.”

Nigel laughed, shaking his head. “Alastair, there are learning opportunities all around us if we look hard enough. This will be a good job for you. It’ll look good on your resume.”

“This isn’t like sending the naughty child away to boarding school?”

“There are worse things than following one of the biggest singers in the world around while she enjoys her golden years, right?”

I nodded. He had me there. “Yes.”

“You’ll make a good wage. She also has quarters for her team, so if you want, you can get rid of that little apartment you have and save money there, too. Before you know it, you can take that island vacation you always go on about.”

I smiled, though I felt a jolt to my heart, an ache for Riley. When she offered to take me to Elderslie, there was a small part of me that wanted to take her up on it—if only to see her beautiful face on the shores and kiss her in the water. It was a fantasy that would always stay that way.

Because men like me didn’t get those fairytales. They were reserved for the ones we protected. And if our love was doomed here, now, what would it be out there? Away from the world and our roles in it? I needed to leave her how I found her—untouchable, not mine.

I’LL BE DELICATE

RILEY

It’s nearlydark when we return to Falcon island. Rowan and I don’t speak; the events of the day are too much to bring up. He puts our things away, and I retreat to the shower. I wash away death, salt, my own tears. Rowan joins me, and wordlessly, we wash each other. He scrubs my back, and he washes my hair. And when he holds me from behind, I feel a want, a hardness. It would be unhealthy to give in to basic need when our bodies are so wrecked, when the hatred for our lot is so consuming.

But I push back into him, and he moans. When he spins me around his mouth finds mine, hungry, desperate, and I am just as ravenous.

But just as quickly as he’s touched me, he pulls away. His blue eyes are anguished, and when he presses his forehead to mine, I try not to cry.

And then he is gone, grabbing a towel, leaving me naked and wet beneath the shower head.

When I make it back to our camp, the sun is nearly gone, and Rowan is burning things. I don’t ask him what, just watch him burn and burn and burn. Through the thudding of my heart, I catch a glimpse of orange fur and green eyes in the trees. Garfield is watching him warily.Same, little guy.

I’m starving, so I open a can of fruit cocktail and eat it with my fingers. The sweetness makes my mouth water, and the sight of Rowan moving around without his shirt on makes my head eddy between anguish and want.

Whenever he looks at me, I offer him a tight-lipped smile; it’s all I can muster.

The birds overhead make me dizzy, the voices in my head dull and restless. Life here is untouched, pristine, and filled with death. Can you ever go back? Can you become new again?

It’s all I’ve ever wanted—to forget the years before Rowan met me, who I was then, who I’ve lingered into now. Forgiveness is given too freely by some. I clutch it like a dagger. Rowan hides his like a secret.

I wonder if whoever put that body in that trunk craves it, or if they feel giddy with their own secret, with getting away with murder.

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