Jesus fucking yellow penguins, this man is unreal.
Sensing he’d tell me anything I wanted to know right now, I insist, “What’s your name?”
When he moistens his lips, I think I’ll pass out.
“Malek.”
Malek. Like Alek, only way fucking hotter.
“Why are you in my bedroom, Malek? What do you want from me?”
“Nothing,” he replies instantly.
His eyes tell a very different story.
Our gazes lock. My skin ignites. My heart, head, and loins explode with fire.
A voice comes through the door. “Lass, you all right in there? I thought I heard voices.”
It’s Spider.
Fuck! It’s Spider!
I turn my head to the door and call out, “I’m fine, thanks. Good night!”
When I turn back to look at Malek, he’s gone. The curtains in front of the closed French doors billow slightly, then settle back into tranquility and hang still.
I sit watching them, stunned.
He’s a ghost. Or a vampire. Or an alien who can walk through solid objects.
Or a figment of my overactive imagination, which would make way more sense.
With an edge in his voice that suggests he might force his way in if I don’t comply, Spider says, “Open up, lass.”
I take a moment to compose myself, then throw off the covers and pad barefoot over the carpet to the door. I unlock it, open it, and lean my shoulder on the edge, squinting against the bright hallway light.
Tense and suspicious, he peers past me into the dark room. “Who were you talking to?”
Instead of answering that, I deflect. “Why were you listening at my door? Are you spying on me?”
The tactic works. His cheeks turn ruddy, and he glances away. Sounding flustered, he says, “No, lass. I just…uh…wanted to check on you. Make sure you were safe.”
“Why wouldn’t I be? Has something happened?”
He glances back at me and shakes his head, but I sense a hesitation.
“Spit it out. What’s up?”
He passes a hand over his hair, looks at the floor, runs a finger under his shirt collar. “What happened earlier.”
When I tried to tell Sloane about seeing Malek in the ladies room at the restaurant, he means. When she humiliated me in front of everyone by calling me a liar.
Heat rising up my neck, I say stiffly, “I don’t want to talk about it, thanks.”
He peers at me with an odd expression. His voice comes out muted. “You said ‘he.’”
“Excuse me?”
“When you opened the door to the ladies room and asked me if I saw someone come out. You first referred to that person as ‘he.’ And you seemed disoriented.”
My heart picks up its pace. “What’s your point?”
He stares at me, a muscle in his jaw flexing. “Was there a man in the bathroom with you, lass?”
“Would you believe me if I said there was?”
He considers that for a silent beat, then nods.
I don’t know why, but it makes me want to cry. My chest tight, I look away, blinking. “Thank you. But it doesn’t really matter now.”
Spider says softly, “Aye, lass. It does.” After a moment, he prompts, “Look at me.”
“I can’t. I’m too busy trying to pretend I’m not upset so you won’t think I’m crazy.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy. But I do think you’re proud enough not to trust me from now on because I had to tell your sister the truth about what I saw.”
“No, I understand. You were just doing your job.”
He seems dissatisfied by that, shifting his weight from foot to foot and passing a hand over his hair again. He exhales and squeezes the back of his neck. Then he shakes his head, as if he’s made some kind of decision.
After a rough throat clearing, he says, “I’ll let you get back to bed. Sorry for the disturbance.”
Then he turns and stalks off down the hallway, muttering to himself in Gaelic.
I go back to bed and lie awake for a long time. I finally fall into a fitful, dreamless sleep, waking every so often to the scent of cedar sap and pine needles, of fog clinging to ancient tree trunks in a dark, moonlit woods.
When I get up in the morning, a single long-stemmed white rose rests on the pillow beside my head.
12
Riley
For the next two days, nothing happens. I have no mysterious midnight visitors, no more formerly dead, headless Mob bosses are discovered alive and intact after a warehouse fire, and nobody gifts me an envelope full of Benjamins in a restroom to try to get me to abandon the hoe life and make a fresh start.