Mirror of My Soul, Joey Hill [ereader iphone .txt] 📗

a code to go straight from the playrooms to the parking lot, rather than having to push through the crowds on the main floor.

“I need to go to the women’s changing area. Clean up before we leave,” she said.

“While you talk to Perry.”

“All right.” Allowing her to move out from under his arm, he nevertheless took her hand, apparently to steady her and make sure she was standing on her own. He kept his gaze on hers. “Your car keys.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” he said evenly. “If you force it, I’ll just take the whole purse.

You’re not going home alone.”

The marks on his face slapped at her every time she looked at them, making her heart hurt. Jesus, her body and soul hurt. She was so tired and so restless at the same time. Looking at the blows he had taken without complaint, accepting them as he seemed to be accepting her, was too overwhelming. She had to get out of here. Her heart was in anguish and her pussy was throbbing with want.

Before she knew it she’d taken two steps forward. Curling her hands into his lapels, she jerked him to her. She covered his mouth in a way she’d never done in her life, forcing her tongue in past his teeth, snapping at him as she plundered to feel the texture of those firm lips. His strong arms locked around her, held her tight to him. His cock almost instantly stiffened against her as he slid one hand down, covered her ass and squeezed hard, lifting her, rubbing her against him, no restraint now in his actions.

She tore away. Tight-lipped, she reached into her purse, withdrew the keys,

slapped them into his open palm. “Perry isn’t crazy enough to buy that this was a 10

Mirror of My Soul

demonstration. Not after he sees your face up close.” The words were raw, forced out of her, but she made the effort to sound defiant. In control. “Anything else, or are you going to send Dan or Ryan in with me to watch me relieve myself?”

His eyes glinted and she thought he would have smiled except the movement

would have hurt his swelling jaw. “Your color’s definitely coming back. I’ll be here in ten minutes, tops. Don’t worry about Perry and don’t make me come in after you. I’ll deny Dan and Ryan that pleasure but not myself.”

Turning on her heel, she made her way across the hallway and pushed open the

locker room door. “Arrogant bastard.”

She wished the women’s room didn’t have a door closer so she could have

slammed it. She was splitting into two—no—perhaps three or four entities. Nothing was making sense. She hated him. She needed him, ached for him. Coming face-to-face with herself in the mirror, she couldn’t bear what she saw there. The eyes of a frightened child come back to haunt her as they always did if she didn’t keep a handle on herself.

“No. No. No.” She lashed out, striking the mirror with her fist and watched her knuckles bloom with blood, like the welts she’d put on Tyler. The mirror gave way, fragmented into shards that showed her the many different pieces of herself that were her true reflection, a person who would always be shattered. “No, no, no!”

She dumped the jacket, yanked pen and paper out of her purse. When she’d

finished the scrawled note, not caring that she’d stained it with her own blood, she put a paper towel under it, laid it on top of the jacket she folded on the bench. Smoothed it with her hands, once, twice, before she could stop herself, getting blood on it anyway.

Then the door opened and she turned to face Violet.

Violet had come down riding on fury, knowing Tyler was occupied and that Marguerite would be here but one look at the woman made her stop in the doorway.

Marguerite straightened, her usual reserved mask falling in place, but Violet took in the mirror, saw the tremor in the bleeding hands, the way they had been smoothing over Tyler’s jacket a moment before she burst in the door.

“Please make sure Tyler gets his jacket. I’m leaving.”

“I don’t think he wants you to do that.”

Marguerite’s eyes were so fathomless that Violet wondered if the woman ever saw her surroundings in the same reality as everyone else. Her unfocused expression seemed more like a clairvoyant’s gaze, seeing auras and heat energy instead of physical form.

“You’re a cop, Violet. And his friend. You know what I am. A person like me

shouldn’t be within a hundred feet of someone like Tyler Winterman. Now please get the hell out of my way.”

11

Joey W. Hill

After a full assessing minute, Violet inclined her head and stepped aside.

Marguerite pulled her spare car key out of the inside pocket of her purse. With the elegant scarcity of movement she was known for and that she seemed to have

reclaimed, she swept by Violet, carrying her shoes and cape in one hand, the key and purse in the other. Violet watched her take the monitored side exit to the parking area, struggling with her conscience.

She’d give her a two-minute head start, then go tell Tyler, though good sense

suggested she should just let Tyler find out for himself.

Coming out of the women’s room two minutes later with the jacket and the note, she found Mac sitting on the bottom step, waiting for her. Tyler was just coming down the stairs. Taking in what she was carrying, he swore. Viciously, with a fierce inventiveness that she hadn’t known he’d possessed.

“You just fucking let her go?”

Mac rose, his expression cold. Violet moved before the two men got any closer, stepping up next to her husband, putting a hand on his forearm as she extended the bundle. “She left you a note.”

Tyler took it, none too gently. His gaze snapped up. “Whose—”

“Hers. She beat a mirror to pieces in there. I didn’t see anything that looked too serious. Mostly minor lacerations,