Two Can Play (Celeste and Dominic) novel Chapter 472

"What is wrong with you?" His voice had an edge now, the first crack in his composure. "Fine. You want to help Tasha. How can you help her when you are not even feeling better yourself?"

"Oh, trust me." I looked down at his hand until he let go. "This balm will not make me feel better in any way."

A silence stretched between us, long and uncomfortable, and then he let out a breath through his nose. "Fine. I lost my temper earlier. Your niece walked into my room, and I thought you sent her."

I blinked at him. "You thought I sent her? To do what, exactly?"

"I thought the two of you were working together. Playing me. Giving her the innocent act, and then sending her into my room to see what she could get out of me."

"You think I would send Tasha into your bedroom?" I laughed, and the laugh came out hollow. "Sparrow, I was with you all day. How much more do I have to prove myself to you? You have seen with your own eyes that the only thing I care about is Tasha and her wellbeing. What possible reason would I have to play games with you? Bryan is still out there. Alive. I need you to end him. What would I gain by sabotaging the one man who can keep my Tasha safe?"

He was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice had lost its edge. "I know. I thought about it, and I realized I should not have said those words to you or taken my anger out on you."

"You did not say anything that hurt me." The words came out steady, which surprised me. "It takes more than that to hurt me, Sparrow. But by beating Tasha, you broke something in me. Deep inside." I pressed a hand to my chest, where the ache lived. "And that pain is worse than any other kind. But it is okay. I appreciate the balm you gave me. I will take care of Tasha now."

I turned to go, and his hand caught mine. Fourth time. The man had a grip like a manacle.

I held his gaze for a long moment, then pulled free and turned away. It was a nice speech. But none of it would make Tasha feel better.

I was three steps from the door when the sound came. A heavy, wet thud against the wall, and I spun around.

Sparrow stood where I had left him, but his right hand was drawn back and his knuckles were split open, blood welling up and dripping from his fingers onto my floor. He had punched the wall. The Sparrow who terrified grown men with a whisper, had punched a wall like a teenager who had lost a video game.

"Are you insane?" I crossed the room before I knew I had moved and grabbed his wrist, turning his hand over. The skin over his knuckles was shredded, dark blood running in rivulets down his fingers. "What is wrong with you? Why would you do that?"