in her lap like a shield. She
crossed her legs, then uncrossed them. He was staring
at her and she didn't like it. She probably should have stayed in her room and
watched Kevin watch television.
“What?” she whined. She didn't mean to whine but it wasn't entirely her fault. If he brought her to
his room to talk, why wasn't he talking? She glanced at the bed. It was getting
harder to stay focused because this respectful version of John was making her
even more attracted to him, plus he picked up his dirty clothes, he never did that
before.
John placed one hand on the table
and shifted his shoulders. “If you don't think you can find redemption?” he
asked stiffly. “What about me?” He was referring to what she said earlier in
the parking lot. “I did a lot worse things than you.” He looked sad.
Cassidy looked around. She didn't
know John felt bad about the work. He was always stoked when he discovered
evidence or broke up a drug deal. She also didn't know he had started hanging
up his bath towel. She could see it through the bathroom door folded nicely on
the rack.
“You don't deserve forgiveness
either,” she told him. Yes, she sounded harsh but she was struggling with this.
“Maybe the bad things we did were for the greater good,” she added, “but they
were still bad.”
For example, forcing
gang members to turn into rats by using family members as leverage. Bear in mind, the people John was manipulating were murderers, drug dealers, and
money launderers however, their wives and children
were not.
“We all deserve forgiveness,” he
said quietly as he leaned over and lifted her purse off her lap. “That's what I
believe now.” He put it on the floor next to her chair. “Every religion I've studied,”
he gestured toward a stack of books on the nightstand. Islam for Dummies sat on top of a Rick Warren book. “Believes in
redemption,” he added softly.
“No,” Cassidy replied. “We don't
deserve it.” She flipped her hand back and forth between his chest and hers.
Honestly, she didn't mean for him to look at her chest but he did anyway. “We
did too many bad things.” Good God, John had always worshipped her small
breasts and she loved him for loving them. Especially in L.A.
with all those silicone enhanced women.
“What did you do that was bad?” He
demanded to be told. “There are a number of drug dealers, gun runners, and
pimps behind bars because of your work and you saved that girl.” He amended his
words. “Yes, it was on my back but you still saved her.”
“I'm not talking about that,”
Cassidy insisted even though he was finally acknowledging that Cassidy was
right when she intervened in that situation. But still, she reached for her
purse. She tried to pick it up but he held on to the strap on the other side...John
always held on. He was one of the most stubborn men she knew besides her
brother. Dammit, that was another thing she liked about him.
“What are you talking about then?”
he asked. His forehead rolled up.
“Nothing,” Cassidy replied. She
shook her head and took a grab at her bag again. “It's personal,” she explained
after a moment. She added, “And... it's something I
don't want you to know about.” She tried to sound like Caleb when he was in a
peevish mood, everyone stayed away—except someone like John.
Maybe it had to do with his
divinity training or maybe it was because he finally took her advice and
decided to join the human race, but John wasn't going to leave her alone until
he figured out what she meant. For a moment he looked puzzled, then he didn't. The man was not stupid. “This lack of
forgiveness has something to do with your kid,” he suggested. “Doesn't it?”
Then he smiled like the preacher he was playing because he knew he was right.
Cassidy shook her head, which John
took as affirmation of his theory. He slapped his hand on his thigh and yelled
out. “Holy hell I'm good.” He smiled that goofy smile again. “I know you
crossed her legs, then uncrossed them. He was staring
at her and she didn't like it. She probably should have stayed in her room and
watched Kevin watch television.
“What?” she whined. She didn't mean to whine but it wasn't entirely her fault. If he brought her to
his room to talk, why wasn't he talking? She glanced at the bed. It was getting
harder to stay focused because this respectful version of John was making her
even more attracted to him, plus he picked up his dirty clothes, he never did that
before.
John placed one hand on the table
and shifted his shoulders. “If you don't think you can find redemption?” he
asked stiffly. “What about me?” He was referring to what she said earlier in
the parking lot. “I did a lot worse things than you.” He looked sad.
Cassidy looked around. She didn't
know John felt bad about the work. He was always stoked when he discovered
evidence or broke up a drug deal. She also didn't know he had started hanging
up his bath towel. She could see it through the bathroom door folded nicely on
the rack.
“You don't deserve forgiveness
either,” she told him. Yes, she sounded harsh but she was struggling with this.
“Maybe the bad things we did were for the greater good,” she added, “but they
were still bad.”
For example, forcing
gang members to turn into rats by using family members as leverage. Bear in mind, the people John was manipulating were murderers, drug dealers, and
money launderers however, their wives and children
were not.
“We all deserve forgiveness,” he
said quietly as he leaned over and lifted her purse off her lap. “That's what I
believe now.” He put it on the floor next to her chair. “Every religion I've studied,”
he gestured toward a stack of books on the nightstand. Islam for Dummies sat on top of a Rick Warren book. “Believes in
redemption,” he added softly.
“No,” Cassidy replied. “We don't
deserve it.” She flipped her hand back and forth between his chest and hers.
Honestly, she didn't mean for him to look at her chest but he did anyway. “We
did too many bad things.” Good God, John had always worshipped her small
breasts and she loved him for loving them. Especially in L.A.
with all those silicone enhanced women.
“What did you do that was bad?” He
demanded to be told. “There are a number of drug dealers, gun runners, and
pimps behind bars because of your work and you saved that girl.” He amended his
words. “Yes, it was on my back but you still saved her.”
“I'm not talking about that,”
Cassidy insisted even though he was finally acknowledging that Cassidy was
right when she intervened in that situation. But still, she reached for her
purse. She tried to pick it up but he held on to the strap on the other side...John
always held on. He was one of the most stubborn men she knew besides her
brother. Dammit, that was another thing she liked about him.
“What are you talking about then?”
he asked. His forehead rolled up.
“Nothing,” Cassidy replied. She
shook her head and took a grab at her bag again. “It's personal,” she explained
after a moment. She added, “And... it's something I
don't want you to know about.” She tried to sound like Caleb when he was in a
peevish mood, everyone stayed away—except someone like John.
Maybe it had to do with his
divinity training or maybe it was because he finally took her advice and
decided to join the human race, but John wasn't going to leave her alone until
he figured out what she meant. For a moment he looked puzzled, then he didn't. The man was not stupid. “This lack of
forgiveness has something to do with your kid,” he suggested. “Doesn't it?”
Then he smiled like the preacher he was playing because he knew he was right.
Cassidy shook her head, which John
took as affirmation of his theory. He slapped his hand on his thigh and yelled
out. “Holy hell I'm good.” He smiled that goofy smile again. “I know you
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