Page 64 of Villains Never Die

Rook certainly did.

“Have you ever considered a relationship?” he asked.

“With Rook?”

“Unless there’s someone else…”

Two thoughts crossed my mind. The first was that I couldn’t imagine giving my attention to anyone other than Rook. The second was that, if I caught someone touching him, I might reconsider my aversion to blood. Cutting off any hand that touched him the way I had was appealing.

When had I become so possessive over him?

“He killed me.”

Gray stared.

“I mean, hetriedto kill me. And I tried to kill him. That’s not a healthy basis for a relationship.”

“Eh, you do weird things all the time. I’m not judging you.”

“Weird things. Like what?”

“Like all of this.” He gestured widely to the warehouse stacked with crates. “You’re obsessed with this. It’s more than just the money, so what is it?”

I bit my tongue. A friend would tell him, wouldn’t they? I trusted him enough to confide about whatever Rook and I were doing, which seemed to grow more complicated by the day, so why did the words get caught in my throat?

“An old grudge,” I answered. I endured his long, prying stare.

“If you say so. I just wanted to bring you lunch. I have to get back to the other warehouse now.”

When the door closed behind him, I fidgeted at the desk, staring at the Greek letters that were as confusing as my relationships. A friend would have told him, but I didn’t have friends—or a boyfriend. I had two people close enough to make me squirm, and yet I was alone.

Chapter Twenty-Two

My phone rang at noon while I pored over a book on afterlife myths in the Prague collection and was about to cast it aside. I’d already learned most of this in my previous research. The phone’s bleating was a welcome distraction.

“Austin here.”

“Um…Austin…um…”

“Who is this?” I tossed down the pen I’d been using to take notes.

“It’s Charles. You told me to call you if I had information on the killings.”

I leaned back in my chair, my full attention on the stammering imbecile on the other end of the line. “Go on.”

“Someone t-tried to kill Emmett Graves last night.”

“That is mildly helpful,” I drawled. “Anything else?”

“He was alone in his office, and I guess, um, someone came in and attacked him, but he thinks they were interrupted. He passed out and woke up in his chair.”

“How do you know he didn’t fall asleep at his desk?” I asked.

“There was a man in a mask, and Emmett can’t remember what happened after that.”

“That is helpful.”

“O-okay.” His voice hit a higher, more frightened pitch. “So you’re not going to, uh…to bring that guy back to my house, right? I did what you wanted. My nose still hurts. Please?”