Grievous (Scarlet Scars #2)(86)

“You took care of it,” he repeats, looking all around me, and I know what he’s looking for: Scarlet.

“She’s fine,” I tell him. “She’s with her kid.”

His eyes widen. “You found her daughter, too?”

“Yes.” I grasp his shoulder, squeezing it. It’s all of the reassurance I can manage. “All’s well that ends well, right? Or some other cliché bullshit. Whatever you want to hear right now.”

“But—”

He’s got questions, I know... so many fucking questions... but I’m not in the mood. “Not tonight, Leo. Let me get my head right before you interrogate me about this shit.”

He just stands there, gaping at me, as I walk away, heading to my library. He doesn’t try to follow, dropping it for the moment, going into the living room to report what he knows to his girlfriend, to set her pretty little head at ease that the world is a beautiful place again, that the sun will come out tomorrow and the flowers will soon bloom and they can sleep snug as a bug in a fucking rug tonight without worrying about monsters hiding under the bed.

Me? I’m exhausted, but there’s no way I can sleep, not with so much weighing on me. Turning on the lamp, I run my hands down my face before fixing my attention on my still unfinished puzzle.

It has never taken me so long to do one before.

After grabbing a bottle of rum from the kitchen, I decide to dive into the puzzle, hoping the alcohol will numb my pain, hoping focusing on something else will keep my head from exploding. I don’t know how much time passes, the night wearing away, but I’m feeling little more than a tingling sensation in my muscles when there’s a knock from the doorway.

I glance over, seeing Three standing there.

“How’d it go?” I ask quietly.

“Okay, I guess,” he says, stepping into the library, rubbing the side of his face. It’s red, a hint of a bruise forming on his pale skin. “I had them checked out by a doctor. Neither seemed happy about it, but they’re both okay, for the most part. Nothing seriously wrong. Some dehydration, a bit of malnourishment, a hell of a lot of bumps and bruises on Morgan, but that was obvious just looking at her.”

“Tell me about it,” I mutter. Her skin was a kaleidoscope of injuries, but the kind of shit that is just superficial. The real damage, I think, has to be rooted deeply in her, the kind of damage that fucks up somebody mentally.

I should’ve gotten to her sooner.

I’m a fucking failure.

I wavered and waited… and waited… and waited… so not to get her hurt. A lot of fucking good that did, huh? While I sat around, biding my time, he did what he did to her.

I can imagine, you know. I don’t need anyone to tell me. I saw the way she looked.

Should’ve just tossed the grenade and ended it before it started.

“Anyway, so I booked them this suite at The Plaza,” Three says. “This little pink poufy looking place. They do tea time and shit. Figured a little girl would like that, right? Cupcakes and pink shit and... tea?”

“I don’t know,” I mumble, looking back at my puzzle, picking up a piece. “I don’t know anything about kids.”

“You raised one.”

“Pretty sure the one I raised was born more mature than me.”

Three pauses to lean against the table. “I don’t know shit about kids, either, clearly, because the little girl wanted nothing to do with it. Said some shit about it looking like another palace, said she wasn’t doing it anymore, whatever that means. So Morgan gave me some address in Long Island, told me to take them there... some house they could stay at. They seemed, well... okay.”

“Okay,” I repeat.

“Yeah.”

I snap my puzzle piece into place before picking up another one. “So, at what point did she hit you?”

He laughs lightly, rubbing his face again. “When I gave her the money. She didn’t want to take it, got downright pissed, but then I told her what you told me to tell her, and well... she kind of got emotional, so I jetted out of there.”

“You told her?”

“Yeah.”

Go find your picket fence.

It’s as good of a goodbye as any, I figure. She wants the fairy tale with the happy ending. All I have are bullet holes in a house with no soul. I knew she wouldn’t want Aristov’s money, but I took it for her. A million dollars for Morgan. That was the deal. I took it so she wouldn’t go back to stripping, so she wouldn’t resort to stealing, so she wouldn’t ever have to pickpocket another motherfucker like me.

I took it because she deserves a shot at the kind of life she says she wants. Nothing will erase what he put her through, but maybe it’ll ease her hurt just enough for her to move on.

“You okay, boss?” Three asks.

I cut my eyes at him. “I’m fine.”

“You need anything else from me?”

“No,” I say. “Not tonight.”

“I’m gonna head home, then. I’ll see you later.”

He starts to leave, heading toward the door, as I sit down in my chair and run my hands down my face. Fuck. “Before you go...”

He glances back at me. “Yeah?”

“The brunette from Limerence, the one you, uh...”