Cadillac Payback: Rising Tide by AJ Elmore (the false prince .TXT) 📕

With a short nod, I say, “I did.”

The thunder rolls, again.

She turns her profile to me. Her chin dips low, and her eyes slip closed. She takes another long breath. I've never seen her center, never seen the focus in action to reign in her emotions. It's the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen.

My two words to her three. No “I love you,” or “I'd do anything for you.” I did that. Charlie's word was law – as short-sighted as my scope was there. It wasn't a question. I didn't fuck around with his sister, and I distracted myself from her with an array of random bitches.

She makes a little sniff, and when she opens her eyes, a tear drains down her cheek. No more follow it, though. She doesn't look back to me. Is this the retreat I've been expecting?

She asks, “Why did he say that you?”

I shake my head, and a laugh surprises me. It comes out bitter, doesn't sound like me.

I say, “I never asked.”

Maybe now she can believe that the words we pretend I never spoke weren’t true. There's more to be said, and I consider leaving it alone. Wouldn't that just undo the steps we've taken to get here?

So I add, “It wouldn't have changed anything if I had betrayed him, and told you all that time ago.”

Her gaze rolls over to meet mine. I know my expression, and my words, are a little too hard. The whole mucked up history isn't our fault, but the anger bred from the lie that I don't love her is real. It's harder to hide the more hindsight reveals.

“Maybe it would have changed everything,” she says. Her voice is soft but her tone is steady.

“Bullshit.”

The word is said before I realize I want to speak. It's abrupt, and spiked in old acidity, and it makes her eyes widen again. Her lips are pressed into a line I can't quite read. The defensive anger I expect as a response never shows. She just turns to fully face me, and stares.

I've waded into the shit, no turning back now. So I continue.

“If you ever would love me, you would have loved me then. But you didn't, and you don't now. And that's fine. You don't need to lie to make me feel better.”

Now comes the test of the time we've endured. This is the kind of volatile situation that's been the earmark of Maria's roaring temper. This is exactly the sort of conversation that ends with her storming away or breaking something. Or pointing her brother's gun in my face.

I take a cue from Frederick and check her. She's tense but breathing steady. Her eyes have hardened. No tears, no shaking. We're staring at each other, so there's no misconceptions between us. She's mad, but she's not exactly violent. Her chin is high, so she's not backing down either.

She says, “I never have lied to you, Joshua.”

Go on, throw my name in there as an extra jab. I've never told her how maddening my name is on her lips. I feel like she knows anyway.

I say, “Because if you don't say anything you can't lie. But you can leave me out of the plan because you don't think I'm up to it, and it's not the same thing at all.”

It's strange that I'm angrier than she is, strange that I'm letting her see it.

She releases a heavy breath through her nose, and her shoulders sag a little. Maybe that was a cheap shot, or maybe I'm just finally saying something that I never did. When it all comes down to truth, she's the one who did me dirty. I took it, I buried it, but that didn't make it less real.

She crosses her arms on the edge of the bar and leans forward. Her expression doesn't crack, and neither does her voice when she answers.

“And you're still here. If you had wanted to go, you would have. You never needed a word from me. You had every right and reason to go.”

She might as well have screamed and slapped me. Her words sting just as bad. She's right, in a way. Several responses railroad through my brain, but they're all nasty defenses. Before I can pick one, she continues.

“I can't change my fuck-up. That doesn't mean I didn't learn something. I lost my crew because of it. I did what I did because I couldn't stand the thought of you dying because of me. Frederick was fated to revenge, but not you. Don't think I haven't paid for all that. He almost died. He stopped talking to me, and so did you.”

My voice lodges in the bottom of my throat, so tight I'm sure I'll choke. She's laying down something real, like the more she gives the closer to redemption she gets. Isn't that the crux of it? I am still here, and I'm still drinking the attention she gives me like she can save me, too.

Her hand moves to toy with the straw in her drink, but her attention remains on me. Anyone else would be intimidated by her calm. I'm mostly impressed. I've seen her keep her cool in meetings, but it's always easier when it's business. In our jobs, we can't afford to lose it.

This new reticence of hers could crumble empires. Or hearts. Dammit. The poker face just makes me want her more.

Her hand stops moving, holding the tiny straw, and I experience a moment of panic. It blossoms in my gut, and expands, and somehow I know a train is coming my way. The feeling isn't that different from what I felt the moment before I watched her blow up a house.

She's still looking me in the eye when she says, “Everything changed when you said those words.”

I'm drowning. We come full circle to the beginning of this conversation, and – again – she's right, in a way.

The truth is like a drug, addictive and unstoppable, and it dictates its