Page 8 of Touch of Hate
His eyes appear black. Empty. Like a shark’s the moment it smells blood.
“Not to mention how risky this is,” I continue, deliberately avoiding the bait he’s dangling in front of me. “We barely got away with the attack on Aspen. Quinton is looking over his shoulder with every step he takes.”
“He’s not nearly as worried about himself as he is about his wife,” River counters. “He thinks it makes him heroic or some shit. So high up on his horse, he couldn’t imagine anyone ever trying to take a swipe at him.”
Anger ripples through me. “You don’t know him.”
His raised eyebrow leaves me bracing myself. “Oh? I don’t? Right. I couldn’t possibly understand your deep, special relationship because he’s so important to you. More important than blood?”
It’s not a question, but it feels like it.
“Stop twisting this around,” I warn, my heart pumping harder and blood beginning to roar in my ears. It’s always this way. I start out so strong and confident. I’m sure I can get through a call with him without losing control of my temper. But it never fails.
Like magic, here I am, clenching my fists out of sight of the camera. Clenching them so tight, it hurts.
He heaves a sigh, shaking his head as if he’s disappointed in me. “This is war. How many times do I need to remind you of that?”
I should know better than to think he’ll understand. He never does. I concluded long ago that River is missing some key component that makes a person human. That certain something that separates us from animals.
In some ways, I envy his ability to look at the world in black and white. There are no shades of gray for him. No degrees of right or wrong. You’re either for him, or you’re against him. There is no in-between.
There are times when I know life would be easier if I could shut down my feelings. My allegiance. This is one of those times.
“Tell me something,” he murmurs before I’m able to come up with a response. “When did you lose sight of what’s most important?”
“I haven’t,” I snap.
I hate when he’s like this. Sitting back, watching my life, passing judgment on things he could never understand. It’s one thing to watch but another to experience. He hasn’t shared what Q and I have shared over the years. The friendship, the trust. He’s only ever been an observer.
No wonder it’s so easy for him to sentence Q to death.
Especially when he won’t be the one performing the execution.
“Fine.” He sits up straighter, shrugging.
“What’s fine?” I have a sinking feeling…panic rising in my throat.
“I took care of Aspen. I suppose I’ll have to take care of your precious Q this time.”
I suck a sharp breath into my lungs. “No.”
Big mistake.
His eyes narrow, and I know I stepped straight into his trap.
“Wow. You really love him, huh? When’s the wedding? Is bigamy allowed at Corium? I suppose so since every other crime is, minus death.”
“Enough.” I’m two seconds from slamming the laptop shut, but I can’t give in to the impulse. I can’t let him come here to do the job himself. Casualties will be far worse if I allow that.
“Now I know this is truly for the best,” he muses, shaking his head. “It’s one thing to get revenge, but it’s another to pull you back from the edge and remind you of what matters. You’ve lost focus.”
Have I? Or is he looking for a fight?
Stroking his chin, he adds, “Maybe I need to pay you a visit after taking care of our Q problem. We can talk face-to-face about your loyalty. Get you back on track to where your focus needs to be.”
“There’s no need for any of that.” I tighten my jaw, molars grinding. “I’ll get it done.”
“Oh?” He feigns surprise. “What changed your mind? The fear that I might actually do it myself?”