I didn't respond. I couldn't, even if I knew what to say. The lump in my throat was way too thick for words to make their way out.
Steele wasn't hanging around to hear my response—or lack thereof—and moments later I heard the click of the bathroom door closing and the shower turn on.
Only then did I release the breath I hadn't known I was holding. It whooshed out of me in a shudder, and the dampness of tears slicked my cheeks. I quickly swept them away with the palm of my hand, but nothing could shake the mess of anxiety Steele had managed to stir up inside me with those few words.
It was what I'd wanted to hear from him for over a month, wasn't it? So why the fuck couldn't I accept it?
It was too easy, that was why. They were just words. I needed more than a pretty apology to let go of the betrayal he'd dealt me in keeping Archer's secrets. Torturing Hank for information was a damn good start, though. Even with the massive chip on my shoulder, I couldn't deny that.
I guess I would just wait and see how forthcoming he wanted to be with that information now.
17
After I got myself changed, I tossed Steele's blood-crusted clothes in my washing machine and reheated our food in the oven—because everyone knows it's the only way to reheat takeout. Microwaves just make it all soggy and gross.
"Can I eat now?" he asked, appearing around the corner with a waft of steam following him.
My mouth instantly went dry. He was fresh and clean, all traces of blood and gore gone from his skin, but he'd taken my suggestion of wearing my bathrobe seriously. The thin, navy blue satin was so tight across his shoulders and arms that I knew he'd stretched it out of shape already, but the way he'd belted it at the waist was all too precarious.
Fucking hell. I knew he didn't have any underwear underneath because Steele never wore underwear, and that thought alone had me biting the inside of my cheek.
"MK?" he prompted, raising his brows at me. A slight smile teased at his lips, though, and I felt my cheeks warm. Dammit. I'd been caught perving.
"Yup, sure can," I replied, clearing my throat as I turned away to collect our food and hand him a plate.
We took our food over to the sofa, and I flicked my TV on before starting my burger. It was just some reality TV show about glass blowing, but anything was better than having nothing to fill the awkward silence while we ate.
Steele seemed totally unconcerned with the tension in the room, though. He took his time finishing his food and seemed almost entertained by the glass-blowing competition on my huge flat-screen. When I finished, I placed my empty plate on the coffee table and shot him a serious look.
"So, are we going to talk about this or what?" I asked, despite the wave of anxiety washing through me.
Steele cocked his pierced brow at me and finished his mouthful before placing his plate on top of mine. "Okay, let's talk about it." His tone was calm and careful, and he ran a hand over his buzzed hair. "I didn't tell you about the marriage contract, and I should have. I had plenty of opportunities and I chose to keep my mouth shut every single time and I fucking shouldn't have. I know that now, but hindsight can't change the past. So, I'm sorry. It was the wrong choice, and I seriously wish I'd done things differently."
His gray eyes met mine, and I didn't for a second doubt the sincerity of his apology. But...
"That's... that's not what I meant," I replied in a choked whisper. "I meant the fact that I killed Hank."
Both his brows shot up, and his lips parted. "Oh. That."
I nodded. "That. But... yeah, I mean I guess we need to talk about all the other shit too."
Steele shifted on my sofa, turning to face me more but also letting my far-too-small-for-him robe part in an all-too-tempting kind of way. It took every shred of my willpower to keep my eyes on his face and not anywhere else.
"You're right; we should talk about Hank," he murmured, running his tongue over his lower lip and flashing me his piercing. "That was the first time you've killed someone, huh?"
My eyes widened, and I spluttered a sound of shock. "First time? Yeah, Max. I can't say I've been going around shooting people and keeping it quiet. You know I haven't ever..." I drew a deep breath, shaking my head in disbelief at my own actions. "I've never killed someone, no. I've never even shot a gun before at anything."
He reached out and took my hand in his, linking our fingers together loosely. "I know. Sorry, that was a dumb thing to say. But for what it's worth, you looked like a seasoned professional. Smart move shooting point blank to eliminate the risk of missing."
I snorted a short laugh. "Like there were any other options in a room that small."
Steele quirked a half smile. "Trust me, before Kody learned to shoot, he'd have messed that shot up. Probably would have hit Archer in the foot again."
"Again?" I repeated. "Damn, I wish I could have seen the first time."
He shared a grin with me, then squeezed my fingers. "Are you okay? It's been so long since any of us had our first kill I've become a bit desensitized to it all."
I took a moment to consider his question. Was I okay? The expected answer was no. No one should be okay after taking a person's life. Right? So, why was I so calm?
"I think I am," I finally replied in a whisper. "Or maybe the reality of it hasn't quite set in yet. But I don't feel... anything. I'm not torn up with guilt or regret or fear. I'm just… I don't even know. Relieved? That's fucked up, isn't it? I should be feeling more."
Steele didn't immediately placate me. He released my fingers, then shifted closer on the couch and wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug. It was the gesture of comfort I hadn't even known I needed, and I clung on for dear life.
"Let's get something straight, beautiful," he murmured in my ear, his voice low and gruff. "There's no right way to deal with a situation like this. There're no rules around human emotions and instincts. If Hank dying by your hand makes you feel relieved, then that's pretty damn understandable. He tried to kill you twice and would have tried again if he'd been released. Maybe he would have succeeded next time."
A ripple of dread ran through me, and I tucked my face against Steele's neck. My arms were around his waist, and the sensation of his hard body encased in my satin robe was doing all sorts of confusing things to my head.
"I thought I had three of the best watching my back," I teased, trying to lighten the mood.
Steele's embrace tightened. "You do. But not even the best are infallible."
I knew what he was referring to. He was constantly beating himself up over my getting stabbed at the Laughing Clown. Hell, they all did, if I was being fair.
"Halloween night wasn't your fault," I told him, pulling away from his hug far enough to meet his eyes. "I was running away. You can't exactly keep me safe when I'm doing everything possible to get away from you."
His brow furrowed. "Is that what you're doing now too?"
I bit my lip, my stomach in a mess of knots. "No."
Tension drained out of Steele's rigid frame as the line between his eyes softened, and somehow that obvious relief reassured me I was making the right move.