Chapter 242
“Get…get out of my office,” Scooter said, numbed and stunned.
Chris was whimpering, pained sounds slipping past the gates of his bared teeth. “You’re going to regret that,” he spat.
The sound of a key turning in the lock was loud, echoing against the ringing in Scooter’s ears, and then the door opened. Andy’s eyes flicked around the room, taking in details: Chris clutching at his arm, blood dripping through his fingers, the letter opener on the floor and the spatter of blood there, Scooter’s position against the desk. Scooter’s face, though God only knew what Andy saw there. “You okay, honey?”
“He won’t be,” Chris said, drawing himself up. He kept his bleeding arm close to his chest, smearing crimson over his shirt. “Neither of you will be. You think you’re hurting now, you haven’t even begun to see where the bottom is. You’ll be crawling for so long you’re going to forget what daylight even looks like. This isn’t over, this isn’t close to over.”
Scooter didn’t say anything, he didn’t have any words. He stared at his own hands. What…what…“What did I do?”
“From the looks of it,” Andy said, “you defended yourself from an unwanted advance.” He drew closer, offered a hand for Scooter to take. “Senator, this isover. You’re not welcome at this establishment any more. Please leave.”
“You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” Chris said. “You can expect to hear from my lawyers about this…unprovoked attack. And that’s just the start—”
“Oh pleasesend me your lawyers,” Andy said, terrifyingly happy. “I have lawyers, too. They can have a playdate. Make sure yours bring all their best toys, and mine will bring a movie. How about the security footage from the last half hour?” He jerked his chin toward the tiny, discreet camera they’d installed when they redecorated the office. “My lawyer’s been dying for something really meaty to sink her teeth into—a real up-and-comer, just like you were once. You’d make a lovely addition to her trophy wall.”
Blood smelled. Scooter remembered that from the deer he’d gutted, from the head wound that had left Ripton dizzy and snarling curses at Scooter in an alley. Raw and coppery, slick and somehow the air was thick with it. “Just go, Chris,” Scooter said. “Just let it be over. Call off your bullyboy. Think about your daughter. She…She doesn’t need to go through this. Please Chris, just let it be over.”
Chris didn’t agree, but he did leave, and that was going to have to be enough. Scooter staggered forward a step, touched Andy’s hand. Fingers locked and shaking around Andy’s wrist.
“Is he gone?” Scooter managed. His tongue felt heavy, almost frozen in his mouth. Breathing was an effort.
“He’s gone.” Andy’s forehead was wrinkled with worry, his eyes locked on Scooter’s. “Baby, what—what do you need?”
You.Fuck, why…He could barely look up. His gaze kept returning to the splatter of blood on the floor. The rim of rust on the letter opener. “Oh, God,” he said, voice strangled with grief. “I’m sorry, Andy, I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, sweetheart, no, no, no, you have nothingto be sorry for,” Andy said. “He’s the one who should be sorry. He won’t, because he’s a fucking psychopath, but it definitely shouldn’t be you.”
“I…Christ, Andy, why are you still with me?” Scooter burst out. He couldn’t stop staring at the blood; he’d hurt people and Andy had been hurt so many times. How could Andy even stand it, being in the same room with someone like him? He was a monster. How could Andy even look at him ever again? Everything hurt. His chest burned for air. Chris was right, he was right. Scooter was going to lose everything and he deserved to.
The strength went out of his legs.
“Whoa!” Andy tried to catch him and only barely managed to keep them both off the floor. “Baby, come on, sit down here, tell me where this is coming from. Why wouldn’t I be with you? I love you.”
He didn’t want to answer that, didn’t want Andy to think about what Scooter was, what he was capable of doing. But Andy deserved better than that, deserved so much better. “Look at me,” he said. “Look what I’ve done. Andy…Andy, this is all my fault.”
“Well, that’sbullshit,” Andy said. “This is Christian Sharpe’s fault, every bit of it. He took advantage of you when you were just a kid, and this is all just…ripples. But it’s him, baby, not you, who’s to blame.”
Andy had to go, he had to. “I stabbed him.” It was strange that his hands were clean. If it wasn’t for the blood on the floor, it would look like nothing had ever happened, but Scooter already knew there were some things you could never undo, some acts that you could never be sorry enough for. And he wasn’t sorry. He wasn’t. He wasn’t a monster because he’d done it, he was a monster because he was glad that he’d done it.