Ramsey Security (Ramsey Security #1-3)(11)

The food might still be tampered with, but the guy doesn't seem nervous. He also doesn't seem like he's trying to hide that he's nervous. Mostly, he's distracted by what looks like a gambling site on his phone.

I take the food from the guy who makes no effort to chat or glance into the apartment. Once he leaves the building, I set out the meal on the kitchen table.

I order Italian, guessing that Darla's a carb junkie. A few minutes after the food arrives, she appears in the hallway. Darla doesn't walk into the kitchen right away, instead peering at me from around the corner.

When she won't join me in the kitchen, I sit down and begin eating. The food is pretty damn good, but I still dump a crapload of parmesan cheese on top. I'm adding even more when Darla finally steps into the kitchen before pausing. She's like a rabbit tiptoeing through a forest of predators.

Twirling the pasta on my fork, I don't look at her. My gaze focuses on my plate rather than her slinking past the kitchen island and around the back of my chair. Only when she slides into her chair across from me and picks up a fork, do I acknowledge her presence.

"Parmesan cheese?" I ask, sounding like I'm throwing a pickup line at her.

Darla shakes her head. With her hair wrapped behind her ears, I realize her eyes are blue-green now. Minka once said my eyes changed colors, but I always suspected she was lying. After all, two minutes before the eyes thing, she told me I was the best man she'd even met and then burst into laughter.

"I like linguini," I say, just to say something.

Darla doesn't react to my comment. Closing my eyes, I feel her thinking a million thoughts. Why can't she just say the words aloud and end the suspense?

"I ordered cake," I mutter when the silence bugs me for too long. "Chocolate cake. I bet that's your favorite."

Darla startles me by smiling. I catch her gaze flicking to the cake on the counter. Her attention lingers lovingly on our dessert. Grinning at her reaction, I realize chocolate cake might actually be her favorite. I finally get lucky with the new client.

Darla's gaze meets mine, and I see a hint of the woman she was before Locke abducted her. I bet she was shy when she first met people. Once she got comfortable, she was likely a feisty woman.

Her gaze falters, and she hides in her head again. Even though I shouldn't care one way or another, I wish she showed me more of the true Darla.

"Locke will be dead soon," I say, staring at her until she meets my gaze. "Do you want him to die quick or slow?"

Darla only stares into my eyes until she speaks. Lowering her gaze, she mumbles, "He has two loyal men who kill for him."

"Well, it's a good thing my gun holds more than one bullet then."

Glancing at me, Darla reveals an expression I can't read.

"You want him dead, right?" I demand.

Darla flinches at my tone and ignores her food for a long time. Pretending not to notice, I eat while wishing I kept my mouth shut. Just when I think she might flee to her room, she grinds the fork into the plate. The horrible screeching sound breaks the awkward silence.

I look up from my food to find Darla staring at me. Our gazes hold for maybe a minute before she says one word, "Sometimes..."

Darla doesn't finish. Blinking rapidly, she lowers her gaze and focuses on her pasta. I keep waiting for her to leave the room, but she remains for cake. Through the entire meal, I expect her to explain her earlier odd expression or the word "sometimes." Darla chooses to keep her secrets, though.





9


~~~

Darla

Twisted Up Inside

Sometimes, I forget I'm not Rose. She didn't hate Locke. Her heart wasn't closed to him. His pleasure brought Rose happiness. Darla understood how his insanity brought me pain. Yet sometimes, I forget Locke is evil. I forget to fear him and want him dead. Sometimes, I am Rose again, and this new life makes no sense to me.

The chocolate cake reminds me I'm not Rose. She wasn't allowed sweets or pasta. Action movies weren't an option either, yet here I am sitting on the couch with a beautiful man watching John McClane interfere with the bad guys' well thought out plan.

Troy is sexier than before my nap. I don't know how this is possible, but his eyes look bluer and his skin more golden. Sitting at one end while he rests on the other, I imagine reaching over to touch his hair. Fortunately, my mind prevents me from doing something so stupid.

Every time, I try to settle down, Troy stands to check the security cameras. I watch him leave and stare at the doorway until he returns. The third time he returns, Troy sits on the couch closer to me.

"Hello," he says, smirking at how I'm staring at his proximity.

My frown causes his smile to widen. A moment passes before I feel myself smiling too.

"Thanks for dinner," I mutter, hiding my grin.

"Thank your rich brother-in-law for paying all the bills."

"I will."

"You like him?"

"Vernon is a good man."

"You mean good at being rich."

Leaning my head back on the couch, I stare at the ceiling. "He's a good husband and father. He's generous and patient."

"Are you planning to get a sugar daddy like your sister?"

"Maybe. I don't have the skills to get a job capable of taking care of all my expenses. Therapy, security, food, snacks, and desserts all cost money I don't have."