Dead Ringer

42

 Death wish.

Ciar's voice echoed in my head, taunting me as I hurtled closer and closer to the lair of a possible murderer.

Death wish. Death wish death wish death wish.

Clarissa's black SUV wove in and out of traffic behind me, trying to catch up, but the Golf was small enough to slip into gaps she couldn't quite navigate. I ran a stop sign, barely slowed down as I made a right turn, and watched her fall out of sight as Ciar's garage came into view.

I breathed a sigh of relief. She wouldn't come near me while I was close to him or Donovan. Too risky. For now, I was safe.

With a murderer.

Death wish.

Gravel sprayed under my tires as I pulled into the lot and slammed on the brakes. I barely took the time to cut the engine before I marched right up to the garage and entered.

Nothing was out of place. For a second, I couldn't figure out why it looked off to me. Then I remembered my fit of rage last night as I'd effectively cleared the tables for my adventure with Donovan.

I shoved it aside and shouted, "Ciar!"

His boots appeared from underneath a blue truck, and then the rest of him followed inch by inch, a creeper rolling underneath him. Blue jeans, smudged white shirt...nothing seemed different about him.

Until I saw his face.

A large purple bruise ringed one eye, its sister blossoming along his jaw in a blue-green shadow. I couldn't hold in a small gasp as I noticed the bright red split in his bottom lip.

He groaned as he got up, like he was sore, but he didn't complain or limp as he made his way to the office. When he came back, my navy blue panties hung from his right index finger.

"These are yours?" he asked quietly, offering them to me.

I accepted them as confirmation, tucking them out of sight in the pocket of my sweatpants. "What happened to your face?"

He turned away and let out a soft snort, but it lacked real humor. "You should see the other guy."

"Is it Nero?" I blurted.

Subtle. So much for being careful.

He swung back around, an oily rag in his hands. "How'd you know about Nero?"

"Because the cops came to my apartment asking questions about him!"

He froze in the process of wiping his hands. "What did they ask you?"

"Did you do it?" I shot back.

"Is that what they asked, or are you asking me?"

I let my stony silence answer.

Ciar threw his hands up. "I can't even believe that's a question."

"Can you really blame me?" I hissed. "You got us arrested. It wasn't even your first time, and from what I saw, you didn't exactly like the guy either."

His eyes roamed the shelves behind me, his head shaking in barely perceptible jerks as a disbelieving grin stole across his face. "What else do you think I'm capable of?"

I stared at him for a long moment before I finally asked, "Are you happy Tilda's dead?"

He threw his arms out to the sides. "I'm not even gonna answer that." He walked a small half-circle and then immediately rounded on me again, eyes blazing. "I'm not this big bad wolf you make me out to be, you know. I've done time for nonviolent felonies, yeah. I haven't killed anyone. Least of all Matilda."