Page 39 of Ruthless Desires: Vol. Two
With a nod, I murmur, “Use your hands. Touch whatever parts of me you’d like. And ask whatever you want.”
She has questions—I know she does. Opening up is like pulling teeth for me, but maybe if I know it’s going to help her, it’ll be easier to stomach.
“You’re sure?”
“I don’t say things I don’t mean, sweetheart.”
Her fingers brush over a small scar on my chest. There’s no way she can see it in the dark, which means she’s noticed it before. “What’s this from?”
“Tripped and fell in the woods when I was a kid. Wouldn’t’ve scarred, but I couldn’t stop picking at it.”
With a low hum, her hands move up my pecs to my shoulders. Her hands are warm and soft against my skin in a way that soothes some of my pain away.
As her fingers skirt across my cheekbones, I blow out a slow breath and close my eyes. She touches my jawbone, then my chin, and then I feel her thumb brushing over my lips. I try to focus on the way she feels against me instead of on the act of closeness.
You’re in control now. She’ll listen if you tell her to stop.
Eventually, Wren moves back to my shoulders and down my arms. Once she reaches my wrists, she pulls them upward, and her lips press against the back of my right hand. Again, it’s too dark to see my tattoo, but she knows it’s there. Her kiss is reverent, almost mournful, and her tone matches when she asks, “Why a butterfly?”
“Sammy loved them.” My throat instantly aches, and my voice is hoarse as I continue. “The day she died, we were going to take her to an indoor butterfly garden back home. Me and the guys.”
Wren lets out a distressed sound, taking my hands in hers.
“She was so excited. It was all she talked about from the moment we told her we were going. I guess that was our mistake.” I try to swallow down the lump in my throat. “She was supposed to wait for me after school. She stayed there for their childcare program, and then when I was done with classes, I’d ride my bike over to the middle school, and we’d walk home together. My dad didn’t give a shit, so it was on me to get her home safely.”
Wren stiffens, bracing herself as she puts the pieces together. “Oh my god,” she whispers.
“There were chronic under-staffing issues at her school. The people in charge of the after-school program were spread too thin, so when Sammy slipped out, no one noticed for a couple minutes. By then, she was gone. She was so excited, and she just wanted to see the butterflies sooner. Who could blame her?
“By the time I got to the school, they’d called my dad three times, but he hadn’t picked up. No one thought to call me even though I was always the one who came for her. When they told me they couldn’t find her, I fucking panicked. Rushed home, praying I’d find her skipping down the sidewalk, but I never did. I called Ell and O, and they immediately showed up to help me look, but it was pointless. She was gone by then.”
“Rhett,” Wren whispers, her grip on my hands tightening.
“The police showed up later that night. Sammy had gotten lost and ended up a few blocks off course. Police say maybe she saw something she shouldn’t’ve, or maybe she caught a stray bullet during a hit job. We lived in a fairly violent neighborhood. Cops barely even batted an eye at a little girl dying. Don’t think they particularly cared.”
“They never figured it out?”
“Oh, they did,” I say bitterly. “They just didn’t tell us anything. I’m pretty sure they were paid off. We never stopped looking for answers, though. It took us a while, but eventually we got a name—Redback.”
“Ludo,” she murmurs.
I nod. “We’ve gathered a lot of information on him throughout the years. Once we realized that Ludo and Redback were the same person, we were able to put together a timeline of his career. When he killed Sammy, he was rising fast in the ranks as an enforcer. Ironically enough, he was working for Edgar Williams at the time.”
Silence fills the room as I try to breathe through all the emotions clawing up my throat. Everything is so much more potent tonight. Being this close to Ludo feels like all the happy parts of my life are shriveling up, withering away. The only thing left is an all-consuming hate. Too often, I get lost in it.
I don’t want to do that tonight.
“I wish you could’ve met her.” The words are nothing more than a raw rasp. My hands find Wren’s hips, and I hold on to her, wondering if I can use her as an anchor so I don’t drown in all the anger and hate. “I think you two would’ve gotten along well. If we’d just kept it from her for a little longer…”
“It’s not your fault.”
“It is. I came to terms with it years ago, Wren. It’s okay.”
“You were achild.”
“I was seventeen. Barely a kid. I was the only one who was there to protect her, and I let her down.”
“No!” she exclaims. There are tears in her eyes, and the force with which she shakes her head makes them fall onto her cheeks.
