“If he watched over you, you wouldn’t be here with me.”
“Yes, I would,” she says quietly.
“Really? Why?”
“Because someone has to be.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It’s not like we don’t know who you are,” she says quietly.
“We?”
“All the hookers. I know. I’m not supposed to talk about it, but there isn’t a single person on the street who doesn’t know your name. I understand why it has to be that way for you—at least, I do now—but you have to realize we know who you are. We know your history.”
“What history?” I’m genuinely confused. She obviously isn’t talking about my work for Rinaldo.
She licks her lips nervously. There is more to her nervousness than just bringing up my occupation. This is something closer, something more personal.
Oh, shit. Of course. She knows what happened to my last regular hooker.
“Go ahead. Say it.”
“We know about that girl—the hooker you used to bring home with you.”
“What exactly do you think you know?”
“I know she never came back. I know you went on a shooting spree and ended up in jail right after she disappeared. I know you aren’t with her now.”
My heart is pounding though I’m not sure why. Memories flash through my head, and I squeeze my eyes shut as if it will help remove the images: Bridgett in front of me, screaming and crying; me yelling at her; the sense of betrayal deep inside of me that couldn’t be controlled.
I breathe deeply, in and out, several times before I open my eyes again.
“My advice to you,” I say slowly, “is to never betray me.”
“I wouldn’t, Evan.” Alina places her palm against my chest. “You don’t even have to ask.”
As I look at her, her eyes are clear and bright. There’s still a hint of a tear at the corner, but I can’t begrudge her that. She knows what I’ve done before, and she knows I’d do it again. Still, there’s no fear in her eyes, and I believe her.
“Why wouldn’t you?” I ask. “Why haven’t you talked to Loretta about me?”
She runs her hand up to my shoulder, squeezes it lightly and then runs it to my neck. She doesn’t meet my eyes, but I can tell she’s trying to find her words.
“I probably know more than you realize,” she finally says.
“What do you know?”
“You said you were a Marine, but there’s more to it than that. Something happened to you over there.”
“Did I say something while I was asleep?”
“A few times, yes.”
“What did I say?”
“You say the name ‘Lia’ a lot,” Alina says softly. As she speaks, she curls her fingers around the back of my neck. “Sometimes, it sounds like you’re begging someone not to put you back. You say the words ‘sand’ and ‘hole’ all the time. Once, you just kept repeating your name and a number over and over again. Sometimes you just scream.”
It all makes sense. I knew the nightmares sometimes made me scream because I’d wake up hoarse. I’d been told by both Bridgett and Lia that I talked in my sleep. I didn’t remember them saying I gave so much detail though.