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Guilty Pleasures :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 103 из 205”
“What turnsyou,” he whispered in my ear, “on?”
I'd had enough. “How old were you the first time Valentine attacked you?”
His whole body jerked, and he scooted away from me. “Damn you!” He sounded like he meant it.
“I'll make you a deal, Phillip. You don't have to answer my question, and I won't answer yours.”
His voice came out choked and breathy. “When did you see Valentine? Is he going to be here tonight? They promised me he wouldn't be here tonight.” His voice held a thick edge of panic. I had never heard such instant terror.
I didn't want to see Phillip afraid. I might start feeling sorry for him, and I couldn't afford that. Anita Blake, hard as nails, sure of herself, unaffected by crying men. Riiight. “I did not talk to Valentine about you, Phillip, I swear.”
“Then how … “ He stopped, and I glanced at him. He'd slid the sunglasses back in place. His face looked very tight and still behind his dark glasses. Fragile. Sort of ruined the image.
I couldn't stand it. “How did I find out what he did to you?”
He nodded.
“I paid money to find out about your background. It came up. I needed to know if I could trust you.”
“Can you?”
“I don't know yet,” I said.
He took several deep breaths. The first two trembled, but each breath was a little more solid, until finally he had it under control, for now. I thought of Rebecca Miles and her small, starved looking hands.
“You can trust me, Anita. I won't betray you. I won't.” His voice sounded lost, a little boy with all his illusions stripped away.
I couldn't stomp all over that lost child voice. But I knew and he knew that he would do anything the vampires wanted, anything, including betraying me. A bridge was rising over the highway, a tall latticework of grey metal. Trees hugged the road on either side. The summer sky was pale watery blue, washed out by the heat and the bright summer sun. The car bumped up on the bridge, and the Missouri River stretched away on either side. The air seemed open and distant over the rolling water. A pigeon fluttered onto the bridge, settling beside maybe a dozen others, all strutting and burring over the bridge.
I had actually seen seagulls on the river before, but you never saw one near the bridge, just pigeons. Maybe seagulls didn't like cars.
“Where are we going, Phillip?”
“What?”
I wanted to say, “Question too hard for you?” but I resisted. It would have been like picking on him. “We're across the river.
“What turnsyou,” he whispered in my ear, “on?”
I'd had enough. “How old were you the first time Valentine attacked you?”
His whole body jerked, and he scooted away from me. “Damn you!” He sounded like he meant it.
“I'll make you a deal, Phillip. You don't have to answer my question, and I won't answer yours.”
His voice came out choked and breathy. “When did you see Valentine? Is he going to be here tonight? They promised me he wouldn't be here tonight.” His voice held a thick edge of panic. I had never heard such instant terror.
I didn't want to see Phillip afraid. I might start feeling sorry for him, and I couldn't afford that. Anita Blake, hard as nails, sure of herself, unaffected by crying men. Riiight. “I did not talk to Valentine about you, Phillip, I swear.”
“Then how … “ He stopped, and I glanced at him. He'd slid the sunglasses back in place. His face looked very tight and still behind his dark glasses. Fragile. Sort of ruined the image.
I couldn't stand it. “How did I find out what he did to you?”
He nodded.
“I paid money to find out about your background. It came up. I needed to know if I could trust you.”
“Can you?”
“I don't know yet,” I said.
He took several deep breaths. The first two trembled, but each breath was a little more solid, until finally he had it under control, for now. I thought of Rebecca Miles and her small, starved looking hands.
“You can trust me, Anita. I won't betray you. I won't.” His voice sounded lost, a little boy with all his illusions stripped away.
I couldn't stomp all over that lost child voice. But I knew and he knew that he would do anything the vampires wanted, anything, including betraying me. A bridge was rising over the highway, a tall latticework of grey metal. Trees hugged the road on either side. The summer sky was pale watery blue, washed out by the heat and the bright summer sun. The car bumped up on the bridge, and the Missouri River stretched away on either side. The air seemed open and distant over the rolling water. A pigeon fluttered onto the bridge, settling beside maybe a dozen others, all strutting and burring over the bridge.
I had actually seen seagulls on the river before, but you never saw one near the bridge, just pigeons. Maybe seagulls didn't like cars.
“Where are we going, Phillip?”
“What?”
I wanted to say, “Question too hard for you?” but I resisted. It would have been like picking on him. “We're across the river.