Page 43 of Flame
Chapter Ten
“So, who are you fucking, and for how long?” Mara questions from over the rim of her latte. Winking, she smacks her glossy lips together and leans over her pink place setting. “Tell me everything.”
We’re seated at a table near the front windows, which provide a good view of the main street—and anyone who might happen to walk by. I can’t stop my gaze from darting to it every few seconds just to scan the foot traffic. So far, I’ve only noticed a few workers dressed in business attire or the average tourist. No Branden. Yet.
“Hey!” Mara reaches over the table to tap my shoulder, and I reluctantly turn my attention back to her. “Spill, bitch,” she demands. “I’ve told you about all the assholes I’ve fucked. Your turn.”
“He’s…” I swallow hard as the truth sticks to the back of my throat. Coming clean now would be the smart thing to do. The right thing. For whatever reason, I can’t make myself form the words. “No one.”
Mara raises an eyebrow. “No one. Damn, I didn’t know the ‘air’ was into rough sex. I guess I’ve been masturbating all wrong—”
“Mara!” I steal a sip from my coffee if only to disguise how my cheeks flame. “You are so bold.” Forcing a laugh, I fake a smile that she doesn’t return.
“Fine,” she snaps, rolling her eyes. “We’ll leave that topic—for now. So how is the writing going? You get your essay done yet?”
“Not yet.”
“The deadline’s coming up,” she warns. “Not that I’m one to talk. It feels like I haven’t written anything good in ages. Like my sexual frustration is translating to a creative block. Damn Rafe Wei-Shen!”
“You said he’s slept with everyone?” I ask only to instantly regret doing so. It’s a dangerous topic to broach.
Dangerous, and at the same time, too tempting to ignore.
Mara nods. “Almost everyone. The sexy people, anyway. One could say he has a type—big tits and a bigger ass. But he’s strictly transactional. His conquests give him what he wants, and he’ll give them a shopping spree or two. Maybe some cash. I hear he’s even into threesomes.” She giggles. “Hey, maybe if I text him to come over withyouhere, he might bite?”
“Don’t,” I croak as she brandishes her phone for emphasis.
Still giggling, she stows it beneath the table, though I can’t see if she’s typing a text from here.
Her eyes meet mine, suddenly stern. “Though… On a serious note, rumor has it, he was seeing Faith before she died. Bad boys, I can do. Murderers? No go.”
“What?” It’s like the universe narrows to this table, and everything else disappears. I’m biting my lip, so hard I taste copper though I don’t feel anything.
“Yeah,” Mara says, sounding miles away. “Someone I know said he saw them together a lot at his club. And he helped in the search for her, and now that he’s paying for her funeral, well it makes sense. But baby boy isn’t the sentimental type. He must have really liked her. Or,” she adds, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “He feels guilty. It’s not public knowledge, but I heard from my parents—who have been trying to keep the Wens company with everything going on—that Faith’s phone is missing. Maybe someone didn’t want it found? Like, she could have had tons of nudes on it or something, though Rafe doesn’t strike me as the type to be embarrassed by that. Hey… Are you okay?” She snaps her fingers beneath my nose until she has my full attention. “You went all space cadet there for a minute.”
“I’m fine,” I insist, but I’m already scanning the window again, this time in search of a distraction. Anything to get my mind off the selfish, sordid thoughts circling my brain.
But as a familiar figure comes into view, I realize that I got my wish.
“Good,” Mara says, oblivious to how I stiffen in my seat. “Because I need you to help me plan the sexiest outfit ever that one could realistically wear to a memorial service—”
“Oh, no.” The exclamation slips out the second I realize that the specter crossing the street doesn’t disappear when I blink.Liam, heading straight for the café’s entrance. He must be off, sporting a plain white shirt and jeans instead of his uniform, but he looks anything but relaxed.
He’s angry.
“Hannah?” Mara exclaims as I lurch to my feet. I don’t even think I choke out an explanation to her as I scramble for the exit.
I’m so focused on making it outside that I nearly run into someone on my way out of the door. He grabs my arm before I can pull away. One look at his face and I can tell he isn’t here by accident.
“Hannah?” Narrowed and focused, his eyes latch onto me with an intensity I’ve never seen from him.
“Liam…” I croak. Self-consciously, I lift my hand to shield the worst of the bruising, but it’s too late.
Without invitation, he brushes his thumb along my cheek, gingerly prodding the skin. Concern unfurls across his face, hardening the already stern tilt to his mouth. He doesn’t look surprised. Just resigned. “Damn, Hannah. What happened? Branden said you were okay, but—”
“What did he tell you?” I demand, unable to keep the alarm from my voice. I whip around, hunting for any hint of my brother lurking nearby.
The street is nearly empty, and when I return to Liam, he looks taken aback. “He didn’t say much,” he admits. “Just that you were in some kind of trouble.”
