Page 26 of A Love Most Fatal
“Are you caught up in a gang or something?”
I don’t give any affirmation of this, but I don’t deny it either.
“Holy shit, Vanessa.” Nate comes closer to me, his voice dropping lower. “Do they have something on you? Are you trying to get out?”
I bury my face in my hands because he really wants to think the best of me. I think optimistic must be his default; he probably smiles at strangers in the grocery store.
“No, I—” I’m interrupted by a light knock on Nate’s front door, which makes Nate jump and reach for the bat. I hold a hand out to stop him from attacking and retreat to open it.
Tony pokes his head in. “All clean out there, boss. We’ll come back when the sun is out to make sure.”
“Thanks, Tony.”
He nods then looks at Nate, who is watching the exchange with trepidation and wide eyes, white showing around the whole iris. Still white-knuckling that fucking bat.
Tony sticks a hand through the door to hold a fist out to Nate.
“Good to meet you, bro,” Tony says. Nate stares at it for seconds before mechanically raising his arm to bump Tony’s fist with his. “Ah, lemme take your shirt. I’ll get the blood out of it and bring it back tomorrow.”
“Oh, that’s—” Nate looks at the shirt, just realizing the stains of blood on the fabric. He looks again like he’s going to throw up. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Nah, that’s a nice shirt. My ma has good stain stuff, you’ll never know.” Tony holds out his hand, this time his palm up and open. Nate leans his bat against the wall before he tugs on his tie and unbuttons his shirt, stripping it off to reveal a tight white tee beneath and a hint of some of the muscles I knew I felt when we were making out. He’s lean and fit in a very practical way. Not like he works out for hours every day, but like he might be able to run a half marathon if he trained for a couple months.
Nate balls up the button-up and hands it over. I also give Tony the suit coat, which was another casualty to the blood.
“Thank you, Tony,” I say again, and this time he does leave, the door clicking shut behind him. I am about to say something to Nate, anything, when Tony opens the door again.
“Oh, Leo says he’s going to wait in the hall to take you home.”
“Great,” I say, and this time we listen for Tony’s steps to retreat before trying to speak again.
“Vanessa, are you?—”
“It’s not how it looks.”
“You don’t work with those guys? Those criminals?”
“They’re not criminals,” I defend, though they are. We all are. He just made it sound so dirty.
“Right, because normal, non-criminal people know how to clean up bodies and get blood stains out of clothes.” He’s whisper-yelling, and I step closer to him.
“Would you rather we left them there?”
“No, I would have rather we call thepolice, Vanessa. What the fuck?”
I try not to roll my eyes, but it’s fruitless. “I told you I’d handle it, and I did. I am.”
“Yes, but why wouldn’t you let the police handle it if you’re not a criminal?”
I don’t have a reasonable response to this and he knows it. Nate takes a step closer, crowding me towards the wall not unlike he had been an hour ago under very different circumstances. An hour ago, he looked at me like I was a revelation, like I could have been a goddess or some apparition.
Now, he looks horrified, and desperate to believe I’m not what he thinks I am.
I bite my lip only to remember that it was split in the fight. The sharp pain and the metallic taste make me flinch and Nate takes a breath.
“Tell me I have this wrong. Tell me I can’t call the police right now and tell them what just happened because you’re a spy, and that it’ll mess with your operation—just, don’t tell me what I think you’re saying. Don’t tell me you’re a fucking criminal. Please.”
My stomach turns knowing that I’m even worse than what he thinks. I’m not just a criminal, I’min charge.