Page 7 of Bloodstained Wings
“She’s just a little cautious, that’s all.”
“She was about ready to kick my ass when she found out I used a belt on her favorite neighbor. Now she’s cautious?” I roll my eyes, no longer finding the energy to deal with this. “What’s really happening?”
He swallows so hard that I can hear thegulpthrough the call. “Look, cuz. You kind of took down the mayor by exposing that you killed a few people for him in the past. The FBI and ATF know about some of the drugs and guns shit, maybe even the nightclubs we run by the docks. But admitting that you’ve killed people is hard for people to swallow. Sam is just a little leery of you right now.”
I try not to get pissed off too quickly. I want to be upset, but not because it’s some sort of insult to not be liked. I’ve been hated, feared, and damn near killed all my life. Her opinion doesn’t hurt my feelings.
But it does hurt Isabella if Sam doesn’t want to be around her because of me.
“Well, thanks for being honest, I guess,” I growl. “Why the fuck are you sleeping, anyway? Don’t you have to be downtown at the gala hall soon?”
He pauses as if checking the time. “Fuck, you’re right. I’ll get dressed and be there soon.”
I dare to hang up, but I can see Isabella in the backseat of the car, staring at her phone that doesn’t ring. She’s already feeling so trapped with me, which is understandable. Some hint of normality might do her well.
“Hey, Tristan.”
“Yeah, man?”
“If you could convince Sam to come, I would owe you one.”
He exhales lightly. “Yeah, of course. I’ll see what I can do.”
I tuck my phone into my pocket and find the button for Isabella’s toy. Sliding into the car beside her, she looks downtrodden but covers it semi-well. Her smile is enough to melt my heart, though I can’t wait to see the look on her face when it changes.
Ernesto takes us down the main road, spotlights shining into the cloudy skies overhead. It beckons to the people, letting them know something big is going to be happening soon. It’s only a matter of time before we arrive at the venue, but I can already feel the excitement in the air.
“You’re going to win,” she whispers, clinging to my arm.
I rest my arm in her lap for control. “I’ve already won once with you.”
She hides her blush and moves in close to my side. She’s so sure that she loves me, something I never thought would come true for me, but it’s been nice. It’s also been interesting. I’ve gotten to know her so well these last few months, seeing her fear that I’d be arrested and never make it out of my prison cell.
I’ve also seen her hopeful for a fresh start, wanting to create a normal life with me, something that just isn’t possible. I can only predict that’s why she hasn’t liked any of the homes we’ve been looking at. They’re huge, they create space between us, and they’re nothing like what she’s used to.
I hold her tight while we get out of the car and make it to the red velvet carpet on the stairs. I picked the venue where Frances Johnson held his little election party before. I thought it would be ironic, perhaps even hilarious to some, to keep this place as my election party venue.
Isabella goes stoic at the sight of this place again, recalling the last time I brought her to a party there. She grazes the scar on her wrist methodically, thinking about the moment when Jacob and Frances tormented her just to get at me. It worked, but I tried very hard to not let it show.
She makes her way through the doors first, leaving me for a moment to find the bar. I don’t stop her, nodding for Ernesto to keep a close eye on my dove. He understands my intent and follows her like a faithful guard dog. I spot a few familiar faces in the crowd, with Nicolas and Lorenzo finding me instantly.
“If it isn’t the future mayor,” Nicolas taunts, his boyish face smiling ear to ear.
Lorenzo chuckles as well, elbowing him in the side. “Who knows, maybe one day we can say we’re related to the president.”
“Shut up,” I groan, rolling my eyes. “I don’t have high hopes for tonight. Killian is still ahead in the polls.”
“It will work out,” Nicolas says. “Don’t fret. The Blackthorne family will prevail either way.”
“I’m inclined to agree,” I add, scoping out the bar area again.
Isabella is a vision in her long, white gown. She sits on the barstool but keeps an eye on the front doors, waiting for Sam, I assume. She crosses her legs, still holding a martini glass in her hand. When she sets it down, I reach into my pocket, far too tempted to watch her squirm.
I push the switch into theonposition, watching her snap upright with a wild streak in her eyes. She practically falls backward off the chair, catching herself against the edge of the bar. She adjusts, plays it cool, and tries to catch her heavy breath.
“Stunning date. Carter.” Lorenzo pops up beside me, watching my darling dove struggle to keep her composure. “Is she alright? She looks uncomfortable in the dress.”
“It’s not the dress,” I admit. “But don’t worry about her. She won’t be in it long.”