Page 196 of Bad Attitude
“Make coffee, Dario,” Tasha snaps back.
He turns away and mutters some more.
“Yeah, so that was yesterday,” I continue. “I escaped last night when he was sleeping.”
She gives me a look that says sheknowsthere’s a whole heap I’m skipping over. “He kidnapped you then let you go?”
“Kidnapped?” Dario echoes in alarm.
“For fuck’ssake.” Tasha turns on him. “If you can’t make coffee in silence and without eavesdropping, go for a goddamn walk!”
“Jesus.” He holds his hands up. “Making coffee, making coffee.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “He let me go.”Kinda.
“So… you…” She shakes her head in confusion. “Did you escape or did he let you go?”
I may have just contradicted myself. “A bit of both?”
“Girl, did you bang your head?”
“No.” I take a breath and let it out. “He got lazy, okay? I escaped because he thought I wouldn’t, I guess.”He trusted me to stay.Now I feel even more guilty.
He’s the toxic one. He’s the betrayer.
The thought gives me strength, and I lock my jaw, meeting Tasha’s gaze.
“So he let you go.” She says it like that’s the answer.
And just like that, my confidence fades.
Did he let me go?
He didn’t try that hard to keep me. A man with more ropes than most people have opinions, and I walked straight out.
“I guess,” I admit.
Now I’m forced to wonder why. Did heintendfor me to leave? Or did he genuinely believe I wouldn’t?
My bike, parked right there. Keys still in my jacket.
Shit. Is that trust, or arrogance? How am I supposed to know?
“I didn’t know he had a house in San Fran,” she says thoughtfully.
“Neither did I,” I say with significance, proof that Declanisa dodgy bastard.
“Then again,” she adds, “I don’t really know him.”
“Neither do I.” Thought I did; I don’t. And it’s all on me. He’s got half our diamonds and Kurt’s box, and it’son me.
“Thought you did,” she says, echoing my own thoughts. “You, of all people.” Her head tilts. “Didn’t you two spend like a week living together after he got shot?”
That just rubs salt in the wound. “…Yeah…”
“You didn’t talk?”
“We talked,” I say defensively. I asked questions; he evaded them. “It’s complicated, okay?”
