The Pawn of the Phoenix (The Memory Collector Series Book 2) by Jamie McLachlan Page A
Authors: Jamie McLachlan
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clothes.
“I’m fully capable of helping myself.”
The scent of remorse emanating from him nearly knocks me off my feet. He gives me the exact look I saw coming down the stairs, informing me he will attempt to ask for forgiveness. Still, I refuse to stay here and let him speak. Nothing he might say could erase the thoughts I had read from him.
“Moira–”
“I suggest you drive rather than speak.” I settle into my seat and quickly look away. “Mr. Harrison is expecting us.”
He sighs and quietly begins to drive. We’re silent as we head into the north district, weaving our way through the streets to ward twenty-eight. Though Keenan’s lips remain pressed tightly closed, I can practically hear the gears turning in his mind. He will once again attempt to express his regret for his behaviour last night. I only hope we reach Mr. Harrison’s estate before that happens, because as much as I want to be angry with him, I know I’ll forgive him.
It will be the first time I’ve stepped foot in the Chief Elite member’s estate. Because Scott had been Chief Blocker, he was permitted to own a home even though Mr. Harrison remained his master. So when I was Scott’s property, I lived at his house, which also happens to be in ward twenty-eight. The house is probably occupied by a new Chief Blocker by now—assuming, of course, Mr. Harrison has found someone to fill the position. I wonder if they sit in their office and realize the last resident was murdered in that room. Probably not. And if so, they most likely aren’t affected by such sentiments.
The moment we reach the estate, the detective unfortunately finds his voice again. “Moira, I owe you an apology for my behaviour last night.”
“Whatever for?” I say coolly. “Are you apologizing for kissing me or for throwing money at me afterward?”
“Both,” he says softly, finally glancing at me. “My behaviour was inexcusable. I was upset and had been drinking, and what you said had provoked me.”
I scowl at him. “So now it’s my fault? I thought you were apologizing .”
“I was–”
“Well, I may not be acquainted with the etiquette of asking for forgiveness, but it certainly doesn’t sound like it. In fact, it sounds like you are saying it’s entirely my fault for provoking you.”
His expression hardens into stone, but it cannot mask the frustration slithering my way. A part of me is aware I’m only complicating things, yet I’m incapable of stifling my hostility. My darkened mood has only succeeded in loosening my tongue so I speak out impulsively. Keenan is right, which only infuriates me. I laugh when I’m supposed to cry; I become sardonic when I’m fearful; and I challenge and goad anyone who threatens to take a part of me. Such behaviour has helped me survive this long. I never once doubted this method and was, in fact, grateful for it. And now it has saved me from a potentially dangerous threat: love.
I glance at Keenan and, for a moment, I’m not blinded by my outrage. His remorse is still potent enough, despite his frustration, and I feel my own regret surface. As we silently stare at one another, his brows pinch together like he can sense something has shifted within me. I’m still not ready yet to completely forgive him. Drunk or not, he had insulted me by throwing money at me. Yet it’s best if I give him the impression that all is forgiven, for fear he might charm me yet again.
“Alright, apology accepted.”
I climb out of the motor vehicle and begin walking toward Mr. Harrison’s front door. Keenan follows, and when the butler allows our entrance, he gently rests my hand on his arm for the sake of propriety. The estate is much grander than any I’ve seen, and even the other Elite Members’ estates look small in comparison. The foyer is wide, with a majestic staircase leading straight to the upper floor, and there are multiple paintings encased in elaborate frames decorating the walls. If this were my house,
“I’m fully capable of helping myself.”
The scent of remorse emanating from him nearly knocks me off my feet. He gives me the exact look I saw coming down the stairs, informing me he will attempt to ask for forgiveness. Still, I refuse to stay here and let him speak. Nothing he might say could erase the thoughts I had read from him.
“Moira–”
“I suggest you drive rather than speak.” I settle into my seat and quickly look away. “Mr. Harrison is expecting us.”
He sighs and quietly begins to drive. We’re silent as we head into the north district, weaving our way through the streets to ward twenty-eight. Though Keenan’s lips remain pressed tightly closed, I can practically hear the gears turning in his mind. He will once again attempt to express his regret for his behaviour last night. I only hope we reach Mr. Harrison’s estate before that happens, because as much as I want to be angry with him, I know I’ll forgive him.
It will be the first time I’ve stepped foot in the Chief Elite member’s estate. Because Scott had been Chief Blocker, he was permitted to own a home even though Mr. Harrison remained his master. So when I was Scott’s property, I lived at his house, which also happens to be in ward twenty-eight. The house is probably occupied by a new Chief Blocker by now—assuming, of course, Mr. Harrison has found someone to fill the position. I wonder if they sit in their office and realize the last resident was murdered in that room. Probably not. And if so, they most likely aren’t affected by such sentiments.
The moment we reach the estate, the detective unfortunately finds his voice again. “Moira, I owe you an apology for my behaviour last night.”
“Whatever for?” I say coolly. “Are you apologizing for kissing me or for throwing money at me afterward?”
“Both,” he says softly, finally glancing at me. “My behaviour was inexcusable. I was upset and had been drinking, and what you said had provoked me.”
I scowl at him. “So now it’s my fault? I thought you were apologizing .”
“I was–”
“Well, I may not be acquainted with the etiquette of asking for forgiveness, but it certainly doesn’t sound like it. In fact, it sounds like you are saying it’s entirely my fault for provoking you.”
His expression hardens into stone, but it cannot mask the frustration slithering my way. A part of me is aware I’m only complicating things, yet I’m incapable of stifling my hostility. My darkened mood has only succeeded in loosening my tongue so I speak out impulsively. Keenan is right, which only infuriates me. I laugh when I’m supposed to cry; I become sardonic when I’m fearful; and I challenge and goad anyone who threatens to take a part of me. Such behaviour has helped me survive this long. I never once doubted this method and was, in fact, grateful for it. And now it has saved me from a potentially dangerous threat: love.
I glance at Keenan and, for a moment, I’m not blinded by my outrage. His remorse is still potent enough, despite his frustration, and I feel my own regret surface. As we silently stare at one another, his brows pinch together like he can sense something has shifted within me. I’m still not ready yet to completely forgive him. Drunk or not, he had insulted me by throwing money at me. Yet it’s best if I give him the impression that all is forgiven, for fear he might charm me yet again.
“Alright, apology accepted.”
I climb out of the motor vehicle and begin walking toward Mr. Harrison’s front door. Keenan follows, and when the butler allows our entrance, he gently rests my hand on his arm for the sake of propriety. The estate is much grander than any I’ve seen, and even the other Elite Members’ estates look small in comparison. The foyer is wide, with a majestic staircase leading straight to the upper floor, and there are multiple paintings encased in elaborate frames decorating the walls. If this were my house,
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