Beneath This Mask (Beneath, #1)(47)

I rubbed my swollen face. I was racking up debts all over town because of last night.

I carefully swung my legs over the side of the bed and looked around for my jeans. I spotted them crumpled up on the floor in the corner. I stood, wobbling a little, and holding my side. When the superglued seam didn’t tear open, and I didn’t puke after two steps, I figured I would probably live through the morning. I grabbed my jeans and my bloody, ruined tank top from beneath them. The shirt I tossed in the garbage. I shook out my black skinny jeans and saw several dark, crusty splotches. Shit. I thought for a second about tossing them in the trash too, but they were my favorite jeans. I didn’t know how to get blood out of denim, but apparently I was about to learn. I crossed to Con’s dresser to grab a shirt.

I pulled on a giant gray T-shirt stamped with ARMY across the chest, and flinched at the tug on my wound. My actions last night undoubtedly qualified me as ‘too stupid to live.’ All of my actions. Getting that drunk alone and walking away from Simon.

Why was I giving him up before I absolutely had to? It might have been na?ve, but I was still holding out some hope that I could crack the damn code. And provided I could get Simon on board with me staying in the shadows when it came to his public life … maybe this could still work. For at least a little while longer.

Last night it had seemed like the only answer was walking away before I let myself fall any further. But who was I kidding? I was already too far gone. What was the point in trying to guard my heart now?

But what if Simon gave me another ultimatum? It would be a deal-breaker. I pushed the thoughts aside. I had to try.

Getting knifed in a dark alley gave a girl some perspective. I thought about what Yve had said about some things being worth fighting for. Whatever happened next, I couldn’t let it end like this.

Con strode into the room, interrupting my musings. He held out a glass of water, and dropped three ibuprofen into my hand. I swallowed them obediently and drank the entire glass.

“You good?”

I nodded and followed him out of the bedroom.

“I’ll walk you down then.” He paused as we reached the sofa, and I sat to pull on my Chucks. “Shit, you need a ride home. I can’t let you walk. Not like this.”

“It’s broad daylight. It’s no big deal.”

“And you got knifed last night.” He ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “I’m giving you a ride home.”

“No.” My tone was firm. “Seriously, I’ll be fine. I’ve got some shit to figure out, and walking helps me think. And it’s not like it’s even that far.”

Con scowled at me and looked down at his watch. “No.”

I glared back. “I’m walking. Don’t push me.” I gestured to my side. “You know what I did to the guy who did this?”

Con’s eyes narrowed as he shook his head.

“I kneed his balls up into his esophagus. Twice.”

He exhaled a long breath and rubbed a hand across his face. I could see just a glimpse of the weariness left over from his sleepless night. A sleepless night I was responsible for.

I could see that I’d won when he relaxed the stiff set of his shoulders. “Fine. But call me when you get there. Or I’ll be beating down your goddamn door.”

“It’s a deal.”

I followed him down into the shop and waited for him to unlock the door. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, I had to shade my eyes against the glare of the midday sun. I looked up at Con. I didn’t deserve friends like him.

“You saved my ass.” I pressed my hands against his chest and leaned up on my tiptoes to kiss his stubbled jaw. “So thank you. For last night. And everything before that, too.”

He cupped the left side of my face, thumb brushing lightly across my tender cheekbone. “Any time, Lee. That’s what friends are for.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead, my bruised cheek, and finally a brush across the corner of my mouth. “Take care of yourself, girl. No more close calls. You’re too important. Give me a call me when you get home. Don’t f*cking forget, you hear?”


I nodded. He snagged my hand as I started to pull away, giving it a playful squeeze.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Con.”

“Damn right. I’m not giving you another day off this week.”

I tugged my hand from his grip and grinned at him before walking in the direction of home. I had a sliver of hope and a hell of a lot to figure out. It was a good thing I had the day off, because it was going to take more than walking nine blocks to do it.





A nightmare woke me around four-thirty on Monday morning. I blinked against the blackness of my room, trying to get the image of Kingman’s body being incinerated mid-air out of my head. The dream was almost worse than before, because I’d gone so many nights without having it. It had come back full force, in Technicolor. My mistake and the lethal consequences.

Rather than try to go back to sleep, I changed into work out clothes and wandered down to the kitchen to make coffee. My shoulders, arms, and hands were sore from beating the shit out of my heavy bag last night. Today, I’d try outrunning my anger, since I’d already discovered I couldn’t pound it away with my fists.

Bottom line: I was pissed. Pissed at myself. And pissed at Charlie. I shouldn’t have pushed her and said what I said, but she shouldn’t have walked away. Not so easily. Not over something like that.