It became unbearable.

The silence.

The stress of what’d happened.

He looked like he was about to jump out of my four-story window. Needing to touch him, to heal him, I tripped into his arms and sucked in a shivery breath as his arms threaded around me and squeezed.

A hug.

So simple and normal but it ripped out my heart better than any sex or orgasm.

Tears glossed my eyes as I pulled away and tried to catch his stare.

He didn’t let me, turning away and wiping his mouth with a shaking hand.

Things were fragile now. Terribly delicate and the vulnerability between us didn’t have a cure.

My stomach growled, snarling through the quietness.

Gil threw me a half-hearted smirk. “Hungry, O?”

I grinned, grateful for the embarrassing noise. “I haven’t eaten properly in days.” A plan rapidly unfolded in my head. A plan that could patch up the wounds left behind. “Let’s get takeaway and eat here. Then...if you’re so determined to babysit me, I can finish packing. I’ll stay...for one night.”

Ignoring my concession to sleep over, he frowned. “You want to eat...together?”

“Don’t worry. It’s not a date.” I moved toward the fridge where takeout numbers and menus waited under ugly magnets. “Just a necessity of life.”

He sighed, muttering something I didn’t hear under his breath.

“Sorry?” I grabbed a Thai menu and found my cell phone. “What was that?”

He grimaced. “Nothing you need to hear.” Heading toward the bathroom, he added, “We’ll eat. But it’s not a date.”

As the bathroom door closed and my cell phone connected with the Thai restaurant, I whispered, “It’s all a date, Gilbert Clark. Every word, every stare, every argument. It’s all a dangerous game with no winners.”

“Pardon me? You want what?” A Thai-accented voice sounded in my ear.

I tore my eyes from where Gil had vanished. “Sorry. Can I order a lemon grass chicken and Pad Thai beef? It’s date night.”

OceanofPDF.com

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter Twenty-Six

______________________________

Olin

-The Present-

“WHAT THE FUCK do you want from me? I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I have nothing left. Do you get that?  Fucking nothing. You’ve bled me dry and—”

Sleep dissolved; the world grew solid. I sat up from my bed as Gil’s shadow paced in the dark living room.

“Goddammit, it’s too soon. I just—” Whoever he spoke to cut him off, making him growl under his breath. He paced faster. “No, fuck, I’m not saying I won’t—”

He stormed to the window where city lights and moonlight painted him in silvery, buttery illumination. “You’re not listening to me—”

He punched the windowsill. “Christ, don’t. I’ll—”

Whirling around, he looked at the ceiling as if he could find divine intervention and support. His nostrils flared, and his eyes were suspiciously wet. Finding no salvation on the ceiling, he hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. All fight siphoned out of him. He nodded dully. “Fine. Yes. I’ll get the money.”

My hands fisted around my covers.

Is that the guy who beats him up?

Gil sighed heavily. “Yeah. Give me a couple of days. Just don’t...” He cut himself off before adding, “Please, don’t.”

The sound of Gil begging made me want to burst into tears.

He nodded again at something before terminating the call. His arm bunched behind his back as if to throw his cell phone against the wall. But he stopped himself. Dropping his hand, he placed his phone carefully into his pocket.

And then he turned to my bedroom and caught me sitting upright in bed.

“Ah, shit.” He bit the words into pieces.

I didn’t speak. What the hell was there to say? He’d been caught in a trap. I’d witnessed him being puppeteered by someone who controlled him with something. Something important with the way his skin had turned to ash and his eyes darkened with helplessness.

“How long have you been awake?” He moved tired and exhausted to lean against my doorframe. We’d ended up staying at my place after a dinner of shared Thai, some Netflix, and the agreement that the kidnapper might know where I lived but I was just as safe here with him on my couch as I was at his place in the same arrangement.

I’d deliberated offering him to sleep in my bed.

But I couldn’t quite make myself as we’d said goodnight and I’d thrown him a spare blanket for the threadbare settee.

“How long, O?” He crossed his arms, his biceps bunching.

“Long enough.”

He nodded dejectedly. “Great.”

“What’s the money for?”

He shook his head. “Don’t ask questions I can’t answer.”

“What happens if you don’t pay?”

His laughter etched with dismal damnation. “You don’t want to know.”

“I do. I do want to know.”

“Yet you’re not going to.”

“Are you in danger?”

“You’re in danger.”

I waved a hand. “Forget about me. I’ve just stumbled into this. You’ve been dealing with this for a long time I’m guessing.”

He flinched.

“How long, Gil? How long has the blackmail been going on for?”

His lips thinned as he crossed his arms tighter. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does if it’s running you into the ground.”

He shrugged.

“Did you sell some of your furniture? To pay this arsehole?”

His eyes shot to sniper. “Again. You’re trying to connect dots that—”

“That fit together.” I sat on my knees. “I’m not going to ask anything else. I’m just going to ask if I can help you. Again. Seeing as all my previous offers have been ignored.”

“You know...” He kept a watchful stare on me. “Ever since Justin interrupted us and announced the news about a body painting murderer, I’ve waited for you to ask if I’m involved.”

My heart literally skipped a beat. “Um...ar-are you?”

His forehead furrowed. “Aren’t you even a little bit worried I might be?”

I looked at my duvet, plucking it with worried fingers. “I won’t deny that the thought did cross my mind...for a second.” I forced myself to glance up. “But...I know you. I know you’re not capable—”

“How can you be so sure?” With the swiftness of something supernatural, he flew from my door to my bedside and cupped my cheeks. His eyes locked on mine for an eternity. He dropped his guards and let me swim through his sins.

I didn’t understand any of them. I couldn’t grasp what they were.

But there was no death inside him.

No psychotic tendencies or murderous urges.

Placing my hands on his, I smiled gently. “I’m sure.”

“I can’t decide if you’re a saint or delusional.”

I winced. “I think I’m a little bit of both.”

Letting his hands drop, he paced away, raking fingers through his hair, unable to stay still. “I stand by what I said; I don’t know how I ever deserved you in the past. I definitely don’t deserve you now.”

I let him stalk the shadows for a bit before whispering, “It’s not about deserving, Gil. It’s about family.”

“Even family have their limits.”

“Not us.”

Silence fell for a moment.

I broke it, whispering, “I’ve asked you this before, but...do you need money?”

I’d offer the contents of my empty bank account if it would wipe away the horror from his eyes.

“Goddammit, O.” Gil slowly turned to face me, his gaze tortured. “How do you do it? How do you forgive and forgive? How do you have such power over me to make me forget...even for a little while...the utter shit in my life?” He groaned. “I hate you for that, you know. Hate that being with you cures my continuous pain.”

I trembled. “Why is that a bad thing?”

“Because I can’t be cured. I could never fucking forgive myself if I—” He cut himself off, sucking in a breath. “I don’t want your money. But I do need your help. Be my canvas. Tomorrow. I have a commission that came in. I’d refused it, but...I don’t have a choice.”