Page 27 of Drawn to Death
Talon’s eyes stay on mine, steady. His hand still on my cheek, thumb brushing away the last of my tears.
“The drawing,” I whisper.
“I know,” he says, just as soft.
Neither of us needs to say more. We both understand. Whatever this is between us, this strange, impossible connection, it is real. It is happening. And just like the death we have witnessed, it has been foretold in my visions.
So what comes next? What other futures are out there, already drawn, already waiting for us to catch up?
But with Talon’s arms around me, the warmth of his kiss still on my lips, I realize I don’t care. For once, the future can wait. This moment, right now, is enough.
Chapter thirteen
Talon
Ipull away from the kiss, Quell’s breath still warm against my mouth. The taste of him lingers on my lips: salt, fear and heat. Already my mind is shifting, compartmentalizing. The body was on the floor with blood soaking into the hardwood. The quiet tick of danger, louder every second Mickey stays dead in my secret room. I can’t afford to get distracted. Not now. Not with Vincenzo waiting for confirmation that won’t come.
“I need to deal with this,” I tell him. My eyes flick to the dark stain spreading where Mickey had died, already congealing at the edges, sticky and black. I should have closed the door when I left, but Quell looked so unwell I just wanted to get over to him.
Quell nods, his fingers still twisted in my shirt, like he doesn’t want to let go. I untangle them gently, my hand lingering on his a second too long. A mistake. I am making a lot of those lately.
“Stay here,” I tell him. “I’ll be back.”
I turn toward the utility room, the one with the plastic sheeting and cleaning supplies. Same place I’ve stashed Mickey, for now. But Quell’s hand shoots out, catching my wrist.
“Wait.” His voice cracks. “Where are you going after… after this?”
“To see Vincenzo.” I don’t dress it up. Quell has seen plenty now; he deserves it straight. “He’ll want to know why Mickey isn’t picking up.”
“Let me come with you.” He blurts it out, voice shaky and loud in the quiet. His eyes are huge and kind of wild. “I can help. I won’t get in the way.”
I look at him, trying to figure out if he is just in shock. “Not a good idea.”
“Please.” He takes a step forward, closing the gap. “If you go alone… what if Vincenzo already knows? What if he sent Mickey because he’s suspicious? You could be walking into a trap.”
“I’ve handled Vincenzo for years,” I insist, but the way Quell looks at me makes me stop. “Why would you want to come? After all this?”
Quell glances at the blood, then at me again. “Because I’m already in this. I was in it from the first drawing. And because…” He hesitates. “Because I don’t want to be left behind. Not knowing if you’re coming back.”
There it is. The thing we’ve been circling since he first drew that kiss. Maybe even before. Since I let him live. We are tangled up now, so close I can’t tell where I end and he starts.
It is stupid. Dangerous. The right move is to lock him up somewhere safe and deal with Vincenzo myself. That’s what a pro would do.
But the idea of Quell here, alone with a body and his drawings and no clue if Vincenzo is about to clean up loose ends, messes with my head.
“It’s a risk,” I sigh, keeping my voice low. “Vincenzo doesn’t like loose ends.”
“I’m not a loose end.” Quell’s grip tightens on my wrist. “I’m an asset. I can see things before they happen. That’s valuable, right?We just need to convince him that keeping me alive is better for business than getting rid of me.”
I look at his face. The determination there is something new. Not just fear. Quell is finding his footing in my world, carving out a place for himself. Dangerous. And, strangely… fitting.
“If you come,” I give in, “you do exactly what I say. No questions. No hesitation.”
Relief washes over his face. “Yes. Anything.”
“Then you need to help me with this first.” I nod at the blood. “I can’t leave a body here.”
His relief fades, but he nods. “What do you need me to do?”
