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"I'm fine," I croaked out. "Just having a bit of a girly moment. These happen all the time, don't worry about it."
I hoped he believed me, because I absolutely did not want to explain myself.
He eyed me warily. "Okay," he said slowly. "If you're sure."
Boy, was I ever sure. I nodded, almost frantically so, hoping to all that was holy he would drop this subject and we could get back to why he'd really asked me over here. I didn't need to break down and have a moment on him.
"I'm sure," I murmured, hoping like hell he'd leave it alone.
Marcus gave me what he always did, and, that's to say, everything I needed from him, and he let it go. I wasn't stupid enough to think he'd forget about it though, because he wouldn't. He’d keep a closer watch on me from here on out to make sure I really was okay and I didn't have a problem with that. Just so long as I could sweep it under the proverbial rug for now. I was becoming so good at sweeping shit under that rug that it was a miracle the thing still lay flat on the floor.
Marcus sighed as his eyes dropped down to his bare feet. He was letting it go. Yeah, I so totally loved him. Even more so now than I had before because he gave me that, gave me exactly what I needed, and didn't press the issue when it was so obvious he wanted answers.
It made me feel like an asshole for not being honest and baring my soul to him.
"Okay," he breathed out, before straightening his shoulders and dropping his arms down to his sides.
He looked me dead in the eyes and the love he had for me shined bright in them for me to see. The problem I had with this was that I no longer wished to see that emotion coming from him at the moment.
I dropped my gaze from his and glanced back toward the island counter where my coffee mug sat. I picked up the mug and pressed it to my lips. I took a healthy—or not, depending on how you looked at it—gulp of coffee before resting back against the island, my mug held aloft before my chin, and I stared at Marcus.
"What was it you were planning on telling me?" I asked in a quiet but sure voice. The only thing I was sure of was that I didn't want to go back to talking about me. Just so long as he didn't tell me he was getting married or dying I knew I would be okay with this conversation.
Marcus turned away from me and pulled open a drawer. He reached inside and came out with two manila colored folders.
He walked over to where I was standing at the island and set the folders down, one on top of the other. I turned around so my back was facing the wall and I was staring down at the island counter, the folders sitting beside my almost empty coffee mug.
Marcus gestured down with his hands toward the folders. He cleared his throat nervously and the sound of it didn't do anything to put me at ease. What the hell was in those folders?
"I went out to the motel the Council is staying at earlier this week after we had our lunch together," he began. "Adrian had requested my presence there and I didn't think it wise to disobey him just yet."
That ‘just yet’ part killed me because I could completely understand where he was coming from. This was Adrian we were talking about here and he was a psycho.
"Okay," I said hesitantly. I didn't want to encourage his bad behavior where the Council was concerned, because I didn't think that boded well for anybody and I really did not want this to go badly for Marcus.
"Well," he drawled, "I found some things that were disturbing."
I could understand this, because I, too, had gone out to the motel and found pretty much everything I'd seen there to be disturbing.
"What did you find, Marcus?"
Marcus tapped his finger against the manila files. Once, twice, three times, before looking back at me from beneath his long, dark lashes. It bothered me how attractive I found him, even though he was so much older to me and I saw him as a parental figure. He wasn't my dad, I knew that, but it still bothered me to find the man attractive. I loved him and he'd had sex with Vivian. This was not normal and I hated that.
I was losing my mind, that had to be the only explanation I could think of.
"Open the files," he ordered softly, and I did as he said.
I flipped open the first folder. There was a 4x6 photograph inside of a woman. She looked to be walking down a busy street. Her head was turned to the side and long, straight black hair fanned out around her. There was a look on her face I recognized all too well. She looked scared, haunted even, her eyes were narrowed on something I couldn't see but the look on her face was enough. I was scared for her.
The picture was the only thing in the folder.
"I found the photo on Adrian's desk and made a copy of it. The next folder has a name and a telephone number. I need you to get these to Rain, and I need you to do it soon. I think the phone she uses is a burner phone that she must keep off most of the time, or they would have found her already."
My eyes were glued to the photograph staring up at me, transfixed.
"Why does the Council have a picture of this woman?" I inquired but, in my heart, I already knew. She was like me, but she was hiding from them.
"Rain," I choked out my father's name.
