Chapter 19 #2
She stops talking only as I kiss her, and her hand presses flat against my chest. Her mouth opens to me with a little whimper as I find her tongue, and it deepens to a moan as I lean in more, my cock pressing against her stomach.
Her other hand snakes around my neck, pulling me down as our kiss deepens, while her palm remains flat over my heart.
I break the kiss first, but only because my leg is hurting, and I’m feeling lightheaded again. I pull back, hissing in a breath, and it’s not for show or sympathy.
“Jesus, Declan, you’ve gone white.”
“It’s fine. Just need to… lie down again.”
“Couch, maybe? Or the bed?”
“Couch is good. Give me a minute and I’ll be fine. We can eat together?”
“Sure. Let’s get you there.”
With her help, it doesn’t take long until I can collapse onto the couch.
Raven fetches me a clean sheet to wrap around myself and drags over a cushion to prop my leg on.
Then she changes my dressings, kneeling on the floor at my feet as she works on my thigh.
Only then does she leave to change her T-shirt for one that’s dry and less clingy—more’s the pity.
“Now you’re up and about, I should move the TV back,” she calls from the bedroom. “We can watch while we eat.”
“I’d much rather talk to you.”
She walks back in, towel-drying her damp hair. “Yeah? What about?”
“Anything you like.”
She’s quiet for a moment, her back to me as she focuses on her cooking. “Ever played ‘truth or dare’?”
I chuckle. “Sure, but not since I was eight. It’s a bit juvenile.”
“Depends how you play it,” she mutters. “All right then, truth or truth.”
“Raven, I have no secrets from you,” I tell her. “Ask me whatever you want, and I’ll answer.” And I realize I mean it, too. After all, I’m certain she’s not just going to come straight out with ‘Are you an undercover FBI agent?’
Fuck, even if she does, at this point I might just admit to it.
The hell, Declan? You’d risk throwing away your career just because she takes care of you?
But it’s so much more than that. Even before she saved my life—gave me her escape route, got me home—she’s pulled me in. Her spirit, her fire, her strength. She’s already worked her way under my skin, past all my defenses.
I don’t want to lie to this girl anymore.
Grow up. You need to get out of here.
But that’s my training talking, not me. I don’t want to leave at all. Ever.
“Any question?” she asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“Sure.”
She turns to face me, expression serious. “And you’ll answer?”
“Not telling you my bank account password, but… sure.”
Her head tilts, regarding me like she doesn’t believe me. “How long has it been since you had sex… before me?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Anything you want, and you’re starting there?”
“Answer the question.”
“Okay.” I think back, remembering. Sworn off relationships while I’m working—that’s always been my policy—and the irony now lands hard.
So it’s been nothing since I started this op, joining Briggs’s gang six months ago.
No relationships for the six months prior, the compulsory down-time between ops where I kicked around wasting time, spending most of it riding, in the gym, or on the range.
Nothing for a year before then, when I was working in Sacramento, on another op.
Which would make it Lauren, that brief fling I had way back when.
“Two years, four…” I stop as I realize this is familiar.
“Didn’t you ask me this? On the way here? ”
“Two years, four months?” she presses.
“Yeah.”
She shakes her head. “Why? I don’t get it.”
“Don’t get what?”
“How a guy like you has a dry spell that lasts two years.”
“Because…” Work.
Shit.
I can’t tell her that.
One simple fucking question, and I’m already compromised. One offer to answer honestly, and she has me on the ropes in the first few seconds.
Declan Hale wouldn’t sit on a two-year dry spell. That’s not his persona. Instead, he’d fuck anything that moves, and fuck anything that doesn’t until it does.
Declan Maddox doesn’t risk it, because to have a relationship on a job could compromise everything.
I can’t keep my own cover, and the truth is, it’s because I’ve fallen for this girl.
“Because?” she prompts.
She’s watching me, suspicion in her eyes. And I’m staring at her, trying to figure out how to answer, when all I can focus on is the revelation that she matters more to me than almost anything.
For my job. As a tool. To get close to Renner.
That’s never sounded less convincing.
Tell the truth.
But that’s not a call for a confession, it’s my training kicking in. Tell the truth, whenever I can, because then I don’t have to remember.
I shove all my doubts down deep and bare my soul.
“Because I’m fussy, okay? Because I slept around in my twenties, and now I’m picky about who I spend my time with.
” It’s all true, and I keep going. “I had a run in with a couple of girls, one after the other, both who tried to trap me with pregnancies.” I spread my hands with a shrug. “Now I’m careful.”
She watches me for a long moment, expression a mask save for a little furrow in her brow. “Careful, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Like… you suit up before sex?”
“…Yeah.” Except I didn’t. Not with her.
“So… you don’t want to risk getting any girl pregnant, but you don’t mind getting me pregnant?”
I’m hit with the image of Raven’s belly, rounded with my kid. Being a father. Being a husband. It’s an image I can live with. It’s an image I like.
It’s been two weeks, for fuck’s sake. You’re on a job for fuck’s sake.
My head, my heart, my body—all in agreement. It’s only my training that’s arguing, trying to ensure I survive, and not blow my cover in the middle of an op. By telling Renner’s favored rider that yeah, surprise, I’m not really who you think I am.
That’s a fast way to end up dead. Cole and Dario made that it clear that Renner made people disappear for less than this—and where Raven’s concerned, too.
I’m not just fucking with his best rider, I’m here to put them all in prison for a long, long time.
Twice the reason to kill me.
I’m spilling my guts on her couch, like a wet-behind-the-ears agent on his first undercover assignment. Just because I want her to trust me—me, not some fictional Declan-fucking-Hale.
And I still haven’t answered.
“Okay, I can see how that’s inconsistent,” I say, owning that one. “I just… got caught up. In you.”
All true too.
“What if I got pregnant then, huh?” She comes right back with it. “What if I wasn’t on birth control, and you found yourself trapped? You ever been married, Mister Hale?”
“No,” I say. “But… if I were to be, I could sure do a hell of a lot worse.”
She jerks like I’ve slapped her, expression passing from shock through to something complicated, more internal than anger or surprise, almost like I’ve caught her out. She turns her back to me, busying herself at the stove, and I can’t help but think she looked… guilty?
But that makes no sense. I must be wrong.
She was skittish for us getting too close, and now I’ve practically proposed to her, sitting in nothing but a sheet in her apartment, when neither of us can even leave.
What a great play.
“I’m sorry,” I say to her back.
“Whatever for?” She doesn’t turn around.
“Coming on strong like that.” I pause. “I just…” Mean it. “…it’s been a weird couple of days.”
“You’re not wrong,” she mutters.
“Tomorrow, I’ll be well enough to go,” I say, hating every word. “I’ll get an uber back to my place. Give you some peace.” Get to my burner phone and check in with Mercer, too. Especially after I missed our Saturday check-in call because I was with her, then doubled down by robbing a jewelry store.
She laughs, short and without mirth. “Dressed in just a sheet?”
“I’ll order some clothes tonight. They’ll be here tomorrow.”
Raven spins around, a spatula in her hand, and…
tears in her eyes? The chestnut’s gone warm and bright, vulnerability shining through, and I want to pull her into my arms so bad.
“You’re not going anywhere,” she snaps. “Doctor’s orders.
Three more days, minimum.” Her chin comes up. “I guess we’re stuck with each other.”
She turns back to the stove, jabbing angrily at the contents of the pot, her T-shirt riding up with each movement, flashing the bottom of a pair of lacy black panties.
I sit on her couch, feeling shit. I’ve got exactly what I wanted—time with Raven, when neither one of us can escape.
Time to get close to her, but that means time for her to get close to me.
It now feels like the most dangerous thing I could do.