Vow of Obedience (Cavalieri Della Morte Book 2) by Brianna Hale

Author:Brianna Hale [Hale, Brianna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-04-10T16:00:00+00:00

Branwen

Something’s changed between Geraint and me. The interstate has become an adversity we both share and all of a sudden, we’re on the same side now. He tunes the radio to blues and we drive into the dusk, a thoughtful but comfortable silence cocooning us.

My mind wanders over the conversation we had earlier. When he spoke of his brother and his dead mom, I could see the pain of remembered blood in his eyes. I wonder if that’s what turned him on to this life, the appeal of getting paid to take out people like his daddy. People like my daddy too.

At home, I had everything I could ever ask for and never had to lift a finger. Clothes, holidays, jewelry. Not love, though. I never felt much love at home—not from my father who was always scheming nor from my mother who let a nanny raise me. Geraint probably thinks I’m spoiled and naïve, but I know things. I’ve seen things too. My big brothers didn’t protect me, like Geraint did for Trefor as long as he could.

And now Trefor’s dead. It was his finger we burned, I know it.

I gaze out the windshield as the sky turns from peach to blush to sapphire, remembering what Geraint said about forgiveness. Wondering why I still crave it so much, and if that makes me weak. How can Geraint think forgiveness isn’t worth shit when he gave me exactly that the first night we were on the road? I remember those three words—daddy forgives you—and a hot, golden feeling spreads through me once more, more precious than diamonds. It is to me, anyway.

I wish we could stay forever like this, driving and driving, with only the road ahead of us, but we pull into Needles just before eight o’clock. The sun’s gone down, making it easier to spot the glowing motel sign at the end of the street. Both of us weary, we get a key from the front desk. In the room, I slump down on the bed feeling like I’ve been running all day.

Geraint scrubs a hand over his face. He hasn’t shaved since we set out and the stubble is dark on his cheek. “I didn’t get you any clothes again, baby. I’m sorry.”

But I shake my head, letting him know it doesn’t matter. I barely thought about it all day.

Geraint takes a tired look around the room. At the dusty TV. The old coffee maker on the dresser. The faded carpet. “I need a drink. You want to stay here, or are you coming?”

Being alone doesn’t sound very appealing, so I get to my feet and follow him out of the room. The bar is just next door and almost empty. I suppose there’s not much business on Tuesdays.

We sit on stools and Geraint orders a Coke for me and a whisky chaser for himself. He downs the shot in one gulp and takes a pull on his beer. There’s not much to the place, just some faded carpet and chipped black paint on the walls.

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