Page 61 of Velvet Betrayal
“Don’t get greedy,” she shot back, but the edge was gone. What was left was something softer, so rare on her face I almost missed it. “If you actually die, I’ll resurrect you just to kill you myself.”
“Deal,” I said, letting myself collapse onto her, pinning her there just to feel the beat of her heart against mine—two busted instruments trying to find the same rhythm.
We lay there a long time, breathing, listening to the city static through the window. Neither of us said it, but we were both cataloguing every place our bodies touched: shoulder, breast, hip, the lazy loop of her calf over my thigh. I never wanted to move again.
“You can’t sleep on me,” she muttered. “You’re heavy. I won’t be able to breathe.”
“You’re fine,” I said, but rolled off anyway, both of us sticky and light inside.
She stretched out, hair spilling over her cheek, and for a second she looked so tired—like the kind of tired you get from finally letting go. I listened to her breathing slow, then stutter, then even out into the calm, steady tide that meant she was really asleep—something I never expected from her.
I waited another ten minutes, just holding the memory, tucking it away for whatever ugly came next, then let myself drift too.
And I dreamed—because of course I did, when there was suddenly so much to dream about: Rosie at the skating rink, spinning lazy circles in an empty white, arms open like shecould catch the sky. Then it shifted, like dreams do, to the city—on fire, but Ruby was in the middle, drinking coffee, laughing at something I’d said, the smoke painting color on her cheeks. I watched her through the glass, wanting to warn her, but in the dream she just winked, waved me off, unafraid—like danger was just another flavor she’d already tasted a million times.
The worst part? I was that danger; I knew I was. I knew she was addicted, that I’d put her into more bad situations than anyone else.
And still…I couldn’t bring myself to let go.
Ruby
Somehow, I had to get back to my life. Even if someone wanted me dead.
Kieran was out cold upstairs, sleeping off his concussion and the rest of it. Getting him to stay in bed had been a full-contact sport, but eventually, he gave in. I found my phone, thumbed through a dozen missed texts from Alek, then called the office line. He picked up on the first ring. Not even a hello, just: “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, though I doubted I sounded convincing. “You in the office?”
“I’m always in the office. Where the hell were you last night?”
“Busy.” It was a lie, and he knew it.
“Do you need me to call the police?”
“No.” I hesitated. “We saw each other, Alek. You know I’m back in Boston now. I know he shouldn’t have taken me, but—he was trying to protect me.”
Alek’s voice went flat, the usual warmth stripped out. “He’s not protecting you, Ruby. That’s what they always say. Even when they say they mean it.” A pause, then: “Are you able to meet up with me somewhere? Alone?”
I snorted. “No offense, but you sound like you’re about to stage an intervention.”
He didn’t deny it. “Go to the courthouse. Don’t stop at your place. Don’t let him follow you, don’t let him come inside. I’ll meet you there. Just—please, Ruby.”
I let out a breath, rubbing at my eyes. “He won’t let me out of his sight. He got beat to hell yesterday, Alek. There’s, uh, there’s a contract out for me.”
Dead silence. For a second I thought maybe the call had dropped. Then, in a voice so calm it made my skin crawl: “You need to file that, Ruby. For real. You’re the district attorney. You need to file the threat.”
“Last time I tried to get the police to protect me, Mickey Russell almost killed me.”
A sigh. “I get it. I just—okay. I need to see you. I’m going to your place right now.”
“I’m not at my house.”
“You said you were in Boston.”
“I am. I’m at Kieran’s—”
“What?!,” he shouted, loud enough I had to hold the phone away.
Then, nothing, just both of us breathing for a long, ugly four seconds.
