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The Killing Dance :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 227 из 285Having Harley as backup made me wonder if I was on the right side.
"Edward, can I talk to you a minute in private?" I didn't want to be this obvious, but Harley was bothering me that much.
I walked away from the others and Edward trailed behind. It was kind of nice to walk across the room, lower my voice, and know the person I was whispering about wouldn't hear me. Both Jean-Claude and Richard would.
Edward looked at me, and there was that same touch of amusement to him, as if he knew what I was going to say and thought it was a hoot.
"Why does he keep looking at me?"
"You mean Harley?"
"You know damn well who I mean," I said.
"He's only looking, Anita. No harm."
"But why me?"
"You're a girl maybe?"
"Stop it, Edward. Whatever he's thinking, it isn't sex, and if it is, I don't want to know the details."
Edward stared at me. "Ask him."
"What?"
"Ask him why he's staring at you."
"Just like that?"
He nodded. "Harley will probably get a kick out of it."
"Do I want to know?" I asked.
"I don't know. Do you?"
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You're stringing me along here, Edward. What's the deal?"
"If something happens to me during the fighting, Harley needs at least one other person that he'll mind."
"Mind?"
"He's absolutely reliable, Anita. He'll stay at my back, never flinch, and kill anyone I tell him to, but he's not good without specific orders. And he doesn't take orders from just everybody."
"So you designated me?"
Edward shook his head. "I told him to pick someone in the room."
"Why me?"
"Ask him."
"Fine." I walked back towards the others, and Edward followed me. Harley watched us like he was seeing other things. It was too damned unnerving.
"Why are you staring at me?" I asked.
His voice was quiet, as if he never yelled. "You're the scariest motherfucker in the room."
"Now I know you can't see."
"I see what's there," he said.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Nothing."
I tried to think of a better question and finally asked, "What do you see when you look at everybody in the room?"
"The same thing you see: monsters."
"Why do I think the monsters I see in the room aren't the same ones you see?"
He smiled, a bare upturning of lips. "They may look different, but they're still monsters. They're all monsters."
He was a card-carrying, rubber-room-renting psychotic.
"Edward, can I talk to you a minute in private?" I didn't want to be this obvious, but Harley was bothering me that much.
I walked away from the others and Edward trailed behind. It was kind of nice to walk across the room, lower my voice, and know the person I was whispering about wouldn't hear me. Both Jean-Claude and Richard would.
Edward looked at me, and there was that same touch of amusement to him, as if he knew what I was going to say and thought it was a hoot.
"Why does he keep looking at me?"
"You mean Harley?"
"You know damn well who I mean," I said.
"He's only looking, Anita. No harm."
"But why me?"
"You're a girl maybe?"
"Stop it, Edward. Whatever he's thinking, it isn't sex, and if it is, I don't want to know the details."
Edward stared at me. "Ask him."
"What?"
"Ask him why he's staring at you."
"Just like that?"
He nodded. "Harley will probably get a kick out of it."
"Do I want to know?" I asked.
"I don't know. Do you?"
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You're stringing me along here, Edward. What's the deal?"
"If something happens to me during the fighting, Harley needs at least one other person that he'll mind."
"Mind?"
"He's absolutely reliable, Anita. He'll stay at my back, never flinch, and kill anyone I tell him to, but he's not good without specific orders. And he doesn't take orders from just everybody."
"So you designated me?"
Edward shook his head. "I told him to pick someone in the room."
"Why me?"
"Ask him."
"Fine." I walked back towards the others, and Edward followed me. Harley watched us like he was seeing other things. It was too damned unnerving.
"Why are you staring at me?" I asked.
His voice was quiet, as if he never yelled. "You're the scariest motherfucker in the room."
"Now I know you can't see."
"I see what's there," he said.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Nothing."
I tried to think of a better question and finally asked, "What do you see when you look at everybody in the room?"
"The same thing you see: monsters."
"Why do I think the monsters I see in the room aren't the same ones you see?"
He smiled, a bare upturning of lips. "They may look different, but they're still monsters. They're all monsters."
He was a card-carrying, rubber-room-renting psychotic.