Page 129 of Roses Are Dead
“Beth’s in the ICU,” I blurted, trying to appeal to her softer side.
“Why do you think I’m doing this?” Her reply was short.
31
Roishin
“Don’t do this, Rose. Beth doesn’t want you to be a martyr.”
There was no note of pleading in Bear’s tone. Only a firm denial of what was inevitable. But that didn’t hurt as badly as the smothering, strangling grasp that clutched at my heart. I didn’t want to leave, didn’t he see that? I had to.
Carl had backed me into too tight of a corner.
“Don’t tell me what to do. And I don’t plan on dying.” I planned to kill him before that happened.
Bear roared in frustration and flailed his arms, but avoided me by rushing to the farthest side of the room. When his outburst ceased, he fired back at me, “You’re not going to Carl.”
On the contrary, I was. I’d only waited until he arrived to tell him myself. “I have to. The stem cell therapy didn’t work. The match your club found fell through. I need to make sure Carl donates his bone marrow.” …And leaves your club and their women alone.
Bear’s nostrils flared. His face flushed red. “Do you know who I was talking to a few minutes ago?”
“Let me guess, John?” He’d called me right after I hung up on Carl.
“Yes, John.”
I sucked in a breath. “No matter what he said, you don’t have the full story.”
“I know you and Carl murdered a man.”
Maybe he did have the full story? Or at least as much as Beth suspected and told her husband. “Then you realize I have leverage on him.”
“You don’t have jack shit on Carl. What you do have is an almost two decades old cold case he could weasel out of and blame solely on you!”
He’d raised his voice.
“I didn’t act alone.”
Bear’s breaths sucked in too quickly and his hands clenched tightly. I took a step back. Without thinking, I cast a sigil into the air for protection.
His focus homed in on my sudden movement. “I’m not fucking Carl.”
Tell that to my shaking body.
Or, that part of me that was nine years old and locked in a room with a predator. “I am not that person anymore. I refuse to be influenced by past wrongs.” I repeated the mantra under my breath.
“Rose? Are you even listening to me?”
His clenched fists were huge. Had I noticed that before? “I’m trying, but listening goes both ways, buddy.”
His eyes flashed, but he changed tactics. “Don’t ‘buddy’ me. We’re meant to be together, I’m yours, Rose.”
I waited for him to follow that up with, “You’re mine.” Even unsaid, it echoed in the air. I panted in the silence. It took a small eternity to meet his eyes. “I’m not yours.”
His jaw tightened, shifting his beard with it. “I’m seeing that.”
Animosity glittered in his eyes.
He chewed on his words, settling on, “I’m yours. I’m on your side, in your camp. Work with me here. Please?”
