Page 4 of Flame
“You don’t sound embarrassed,” I croak, finally pegging the sole emotion coloring his voice. Pity for me, but surprisingly no unease for himself. No anger, either. A glance at his face reveals he’s sporting his trademark stoic expression. “Or violated.”
“I don’t have shit to be embarrassed about—” he pauses in his petting of my hair and meets my gaze directly. “You don’t either. We didn’t do anything wrong.”
Conviction resonates in his voice—he truly believes that.
But he doesn’t know the awful truth still churning my stomach. Namely, the true identity of “Bran.” The way he’s watched me for so damn long. The horrible suspicion that planting the camera in my room wasn’t done with the sole intention of catching me with someone.
Hewantedto see me. Control me.
Exploit any part of my life that he could.
“We didn’t do anything wrong,” Rafe repeats, flexing his fingers as if force alone can drive that fact into my skull. “Sex is sex, bunny. You made your choice to fuck me. I made my choice to fuck you back—and it was damn good.”
I flinch at how casual he makes it sound. Like he’s said that line before—many times.
“You left last night,” I point out, switching to a subject that makes him stiffen this time. He’s right. I didn’t sleep at all.
But did he?
“Were you with Bonnie?” Would I even have the right to be upset if he had been with the perky blond?
“I was up here,” he admits softly.
I observe him more carefully, noting the shadows beneath his eyes I’d missed before. The slight redness to them. He’s disguised it so well, but he’s wrecked.
“All night?”
He nods. “All fucking night. Any more questions?”
“What were you doing up here?” I glance around the wide space skeptically, but I believe him.
“Thinking,” he says, snatching his beer for another sip. His clenched jaw evokes troubles well beyond my personal issues.
“Thinking about Faith?”
He nods.
“And your uncle?”
Irritation flashes across his face. “What about him?”
I struggle to remember some of the conversation I’d overheard between the two. “He wanted you to do something about what happened to her. About Gino—”
“He wants me to do a lot of shit,” he says, neither a confirmation nor a denial.
“I heard what he said to you the other night, too,” I confess. “He thinks Gino had something to do with Faith’s death, doesn’t he? And he wants you to confront him. Attack him?”
Or worse.
“Don’t worry about him.”
“What if… What if Gino didn’t hurt Faith?” I suck in a breath, fully prepared to confess the truth. “I—”
“Gino has a motive, but I hope the bastard wasn’t that stupid,” Rafe says. Going off the low note in his voice, he truly means it. “Whoever killed Faith, I pity the motherfucker. He’s a dead man walking.”
“Because of your uncle?” I blurt out. I recall how the older man had reacted to the news. As if Faith’s death were some kind of personal slight against him.
Rafe shrugs. “Because, bunny, people who do bad shit tend to have it catch up to them eventually. Faith’s killer is running out of places to hide.”
