Chapter Four #2
“I will.”
“Do you want to be on top?”
I shake my head. “No.” I wouldn’t know what to do if I was on top. I wouldn’t know how to give him what he needs to come. “Do you mind?”
“Whatever you need to do to be comfortable, sweetheart.”
“I want you on top of me.”
“Okay.”
He covers us with the sheet and comforter and nestles between my legs. His cock pokes at me, searching for home, and I wrap my arms around his shoulders and nibble his neck. He tastes like Gage and sweat, and I focus on the texture of his skin against my tongue as he pushes into me.
I suck in a breath.
The way he feels is nothing like what I’ve experienced in the past. It’s nothing I’ve ever felt before, him filling me with love, his desire to claim me. Gripping my butt, he tilts my hips upward and consumes all of me. My body stretches, accommodating his size until he can’t go any farther, and he pauses, waiting for my body to adjust.
“Zarah?”
I cling to him, so grateful he can give me this time, erase all the hate and violence I’ve experienced in an act that should convey love and commitment, pleasure and desire.
“I’m okay.”
“How do I feel?” His face is pressed into my cheek, his breath hot against my skin.
“Perfect.” I mean it. This is the most perfect moment of my life.
“I’m going to start to move. I’m almost there, and I don’t need much.”
I nudge him back, look into his eyes, and rest my palm against his cheek. “Take what you need. I want to give you whatever you need.”
“You already have.”
Braced above my body, he starts to pump, and I catch on to the rhythm, my hips meeting his tender thrusts. I play with his nipples and he moans.
He grunts as he comes, his arm and leg muscles like cement to keep himself from crushing me. His cock is huge, and I can feel it pulse as it empties into the condom.
Shuddering, he lowers his body over mine. We’re both sweaty, but I’m the only messy one. The wet spot will be my fault, and I giggle. He nips at my bottom lip, his teeth delicately pinching my skin. He hasn’t pulled out of me yet and he’s still semi-hard. I like how he feels. I like how we’re connected.
I wiggle my hand between our bodies, and I tilt my hips, exploring the area where we’re joined. “I like this.”
“We’re one,” he murmurs, whispering kisses along my jaw and down my shoulder.
“I feel like we are. In here.” I rest my hand against his chest where his heart is.
“Yes.” He sucks my nipple, but not in the arousing way as before. Soft kisses, tiny draws of my skin between his teeth. Showing me he loves me.
I feel him get hard, growing inside me. “Do you want to do it again?”
He strokes my insides with his cock, long glides, going completely out of me, then sliding back in with one smooth motion, filling me. It’s scary how empty I feel when he’s not inside me, how big of a hole he leaves when he’s not consuming every part of me.
Moaning softly, Gage takes me again and promises himself to me over and over.
This is what real lovemaking is. Two bodies, two hearts, tangled together.
My fear is gone, and I hug him closer, my hand to his ass, encouraging him to go deeper, take me deeper, harder, because I know nothing he’ll do will hurt me.
He’s shown me what physical love is. We’re two halves of a whole, and maybe now, maybe, I can find some peace.
It only lasts until I wake, lying in his arms, and his dog peers over the side of the bed. Her tongue lolls, her blue eyes bright with joy, but I can’t remember her name, and the fear I managed to push away while Gage and I made love returns in full force.
The dog jumps onto the bed, and Gage shoos her off, grumbling good-naturedly about having to go potty and lunchtime for mutts and humans.
I swallow back tears and roll onto my side so we’re spooning. His cock is unsheathed and limp, pressed against my butt.
I dredge up the courage from somewhere. From a place where I want what’s best for Gage, where my problems won’t hurt him or mess up his future. He deserves a wife who isn’t going crazy, whose every second isn’t plagued by fear and uncertainty.
“I think we should stop seeing each other.”
He stiffens, his arm around my waist tightening his hold on me. “Because we made love? Did I hurt you?”
I could say yes, and then it would be done. Say I wasn’t ready, that I felt pressured and don’t want to see him anymore, but I can’t hurt him that way. From our first walk in the woods and our first kiss up until this very second, he’s done all he could to not let physical intimacy hurt me and we would never be able to come back to this place if I told that kind of lie.
“No.” I kiss his arm, letting my lips linger against his ink.
He lifts onto an elbow and pushes me onto my back. “Then you’re going to have to explain a comment like that.”
“I’m getting worse. When I woke up, I couldn’t remember your dog’s name, and I still can’t. It’s there, like a word on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t get it out. I don’t know it. Names and dates and plans. I wake up in the middle of the night and I can’t find the bathroom. It’s like I don’t live in my own house. I want to go into the woods, but I’m afraid I’ll get lost. Douglas and I don’t listen to audiobooks anymore...I can’t follow the plot of the simplest story. I don’t know what my favorite food is or what my middle name is. I’m losing my mind, Gage. Literally losing everything in my mind to big dark holes of nothing.”
“And you want to break up.”
“You deserve more.”
“Then you should let me decide.”
“What if I don’t want to see you anymore?”
“That’s different. You don’t get to make choices on my behalf. You’re tired of people doing it to you, and I’m not going to let you do it to me. If you want to break up, then you make that choice for you. Not for me.”
“I’m not getting better.”
“We’ll figure it out. There are thousands of women who live full lives despite having a mental illness. I have no idea how many are married, but some of them are. I can’t lie to you, it will be hard, Zarah. Loving you is hard because all I want is for you to get better, and I might have to come to terms with the fact you can’t. You have no idea how long I’ve thought about this, but I love you, and nothing will change that. I can’t stop. Not for me, not for you, not for Zane. I love you. Maybe we can’t ever get married. Maybe we can’t ever have children—”
I sit up in alarm. “What do you mean, we can’t get married?”
He sits up too, and says, “If you can’t get better, we’ll have to think about what that means for us. I don’t want our marriage to look like I’m taking advantage of you. You need a clear mind so when you sign our certificate, everyone knows you went into our marriage understanding what it entails.”
“Oh. You’re looking out for yourself.” This disappoints me on so many levels, and I look away toward the window. I catch a slice of blue sky through the cracks of the blinds.
Gripping my jaw, he forces me to meet his gaze. “No. I’m looking out for you. I want you even if we can’t get married. People commit to each other all the time without making it legal. We’ll work it out.”
“Why go through all that?”
“Aren’t you listening? Because I love you.”
I push at his shoulders. “Then love somebody else.”
He grabs a condom packet out the drawer and rips it open. The noise sends shivers through my body, and I’m wet, already anticipating what he’s going to do to me. Never breaking eye contact, he rolls the condom onto his cock and shoves me onto my back. He traps my hands above my head and grips my ass, the tip of his cock poised, ready to claim me.
The look in his eyes is hard and determined.
“You think it’s that easy? When I look into your eyes and let them consume me, when you laugh and it hits me like a shot of heroin, when your pussy can milk every last drop out of my cock, do you think it will be so easy to love somebody else?”
He slides into me, and I’m ready, ready for him to fill this stupid empty cavern that threatens to suffocate me. I raise my hips to meet his thrusts, and the tip of his cock slams into the center of my body, bruising me.
“Fuck you if you think so little of me, Zarah. You’re mine, and nothing in the world will change that.”
He licks his thumb and rubs my clit. I don’t need much to fall over the edge, and it’s a different experience entirely to orgasm while his cock is inside me. The pleasure is so good it almost hurts, and he pounds into me until he comes, my body begging for more.
“Fuck you if you think I can just walk away,” he gasps into my ear, his voice cracking, and he hugs me to him, crying into my hair.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I murmur, running my hands over his back and shaking shoulders. “I’m sorry.” He lifts his head, his face wet, and I kiss the tears off his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t leave me. Not because of this,” he pleads, covering my face with a flurry of kisses.
“I promise.”
“I’m sorry if I was too rough.”
“I liked it.” It’s amazing that’s not a lie. There wasn’t an ounce of cruelty in the way he made love to me, only desperation and fear I’d follow through with my feeble threat.
“Good.” He kisses my lips hard and rolls out of bed.
The dog bounces into the room, and I still can’t remember her name.
Gage will stay by my side until this ends.
One way or the other.
I should be happy he loves me that much, as surely the rest of my life will be hell, and hell is a cold, lonely place. Deep down, I know Gage is only human. He’ll only be able to tolerate so much until he won’t be able to stand any more.
I clean up in the bathroom and put my clothes back on. My body is sore, but not a bad sore, not like I associate with the mornings after a night Ash sold me. There are no bruises on my skin, there isn’t semen leaking out of my body to mix with the blood from the tears around my vagina.
My ribs are still a little tender, but I did so much lying around after that night I fell down Gage’s stairs, captive in my own house, that most of the pain eased after only a few days. Even for the rough way Gage made love to me because I pissed him off, he was still gentle, and the aches now are a pleasant reminder of what we spent the afternoon doing.
Using his brush, I untangle my hair. My makeup is ruined, but I have a feminine pride in that. I wanted the bee-stung lips and cheeks stained from physical exertion and not blush. My skin does sparkle, a post-sexual glow caused by hormones, sweat, and well, a rocking orgasm. Oh, and his scruff. Mmm.
Gage is waiting in the kitchen, and he turns the tap on and fills a glass with water. He watches me drink it, looking for a sign I meant what I said. I gave him his chance to get out of here, and he didn’t take it. I can always tell him I told you so.
“Are we good?” he asks, putting my glass in the dishwasher.
“Yes. I’m sorry I made you cry.”
“You always will whenever you talk about leaving me.”
It was a shock to hear a grown man cry. I mean, a man who looks like Gage. Zane cries. Sometimes I hear him in his study, his arms muffling his sobs as he cradles his head on his desk, but he’s my brother and I see him as a softer example of the male species, whereas Gage is all testosterone, muscle, and aggression. Maybe that’s not fair, but if you could see Gage for yourself, him crying would be a surprise to you, too.
“I just wanted—”
“I know what you wanted, and I appreciate it, I do. But no more talk, okay? It’s nothing I want to think about anymore.”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s grab some food. I changed our reservation. She had to do a little dancing around, but she managed to keep a table for us.”
“Where are we going?”
“The Sunflower. Do you know it?”
I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never eaten there. It’s been open for several years, but before Ash started selling me, I wasn’t interested in eating at a place I would have considered dull and boring and since Zane brought me home from Quiet Meadows, I’ve been too busy trying to put my life together to eat at the sunny restaurant.
“Yes, but I’ve never been there.”
“You don’t own it, do you?”
His droll tone amuses me, and I laugh. “I don’t think Zane’s been working on that aspect of the business. All he’s done is try to keep it afloat and clean up Clayton’s and Ash’s messes.”
“Okay. Because I’d like to pay for our meal.”
I force a smile. “Then I’ll let you.”
The dog doesn’t look happy to be left behind, whining as Gage locks the door behind us.
“She’ll be okay. Don’t feel sorry for her.”
The drive to the restaurant located in an older commercial development on the south side of town lasts about twenty minutes, and we sit quietly, his hand holding mine, our fingers linked together. He turns into the parking lot, and I study the building. The walls are made of huge, floor-to-ceiling glass windows. It’s busy, but Gage manages to find a parking space near the rear of the lot. We step inside the restaurant, Gage holding the door open for me, and large sunflowers are potted in almost every area of the dining room. It’s a cheery place, cream-colored tiles covering the floor, and we sit at a corner table, the snow sparkling in the sun.
“They have a garden, too, and there’s al fresco dining in the summer. When it warms up, we can come back and eat outside.”
I stare at the menu, jealousy getting the better of me. If he’s brought other women here, I don’t want to know—or come back. My stomach growls, and I focus on the menu. I didn’t eat breakfast, and we skipped lunch. The selection is extensive, but I don’t try anything new and order a chicken Caesar salad, a bowl of wild rice soup, and a glass of sparkling water. I entirely miss what Gage orders, watching his throat work as he speaks to our server.
“I didn’t mean to brush off what you told me. About Baby’s name,” he says, linking our fingers on the tabletop.
I let out a sigh. Baby. That’s her name. How could I have forgotten? Oh, yeah. I have a gazillion drugs coursing through my veins at any given moment.
“Can you tell me more about what’s going on? When did it start?”
“The night I stayed at your apartment and had my anxiety attack. I woke up and I didn’t know where I was, who you were. I had...dreams, I think, nightmares, of men asking me questions, and I didn’t know the answers. The voices echoed in my head, and I have no idea if they were real or fake. If they were real, where did they come from? Quiet Meadows? I don’t remember much of my time there. Maybe they were fake. Since then, facts flit in and out of my brain. Days I’ll remember, and days I won’t, like bingeing a show with Stella. I can’t tell her I don’t remember what we were watching from one day to the next. So I sit there, pretend to enjoy the episodes, even if I’m completely lost.”
“Okay, but what changed, sweetheart? Were you always this shaky? You couldn’t order a coffee the day we met. Can you walk me through that?”
That isn’t the same thing, and I say, “That day was stress. All the choices, my mind a jumble. You were looking at me, the woman behind the counter was waiting. You’d just rescued me from the paparazzi, and I was nervous around you. I couldn’t make myself think. This is different somehow. It’s hard to explain.”
“Your doctor hasn’t done anything to your medication?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Only lowering it. I was doing so well, but after the night at your apartment, he’s going to stop. I’m supposed to see him for another adjustment soon, but I know he’ll tell Zane they should wait and see what’s happening.”
He nods, but he pauses and lets the waitress serve our food before he responds.
My salad looks good, and my soup steams, emitting a spicy aroma into the air. Despite our serious talk, my stomach rumbles, and I lift my spoon, ready to dig in. Our server adds a basket of fresh rolls to the table, and after asking if she can get us anything else, rushes away. If she knew me, at least she didn’t stare. I hate all the attention. I feel like a freak.
Gage snags a French fry, and I steal one off his plate. He swats at my hand, but in invitation, he nudges his plate closer to my huge salad bowl. “Are you still seeing Jerricka Solis?” he asks.
Laying my napkin in my lap, I say, “Yes, and I start up my regular appointments next week. I need to talk to her about the new medication she prescribed me.”
Gage stills. “Do you think that’s what this is?”
I bite my lip. “I texted her this morning and asked. She said to be on the safe side I can skip my dose today and see what happens, that maybe the medication is too strong.”
“You told me this before, but I want you to tell me again. Zane and your doctor know she prescribed it.”
“Yes, that’s what she said.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t sound okay.
He cuts into his steak, and I sneak another fry. The corner of his mouth lifts up and I swirl my soup around the bowl as I chew.
“What?” I finally ask. The silence that settled over our table makes me uneasy.
“I don’t like her, that’s all. I’ve told Zane I don’t agree with you seeing her.”
“Jerricka? Why?”
“She’snot...connected, exactly, to a couple of cases Pop and I are working on, but I don’t like it. I met her, and she rubbed me the wrong way.”
“Gage, I’ve been seeing her since Zane brought me home. I like her. Trust her. She’s listened to a lot of what I’ve gone through, and I talk to her about being intimate. I think she helped me open myself up to you faster than if I would have tried to deal with what Ash did to me alone. She doesn’t let me hide.”
“Just because she helped—” He stops and tries again. “I don’t like coincidences.”
“She answered my text, today, on New Year’s Day. That’s above and beyond.”
“Or she wanted you to check in.”
I resist the childish urge to roll my eyes. “What does she have to gain by making me go crazy?”
“That’s a very good question.”
“Nothing. You’re a PI. Don’t you deal in facts?”
“Yeah, and the fact is, I don’t like her.”
His bluster is adorable and I laugh. “I love you.”
Gage’s eyes soften. “I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that.”
“I’ll never get tired of saying it.”
The serious talk over, we chat about other subjects that aren’t so heavy. He mentions another movie night and an afternoon at a shopping center to people-watch and eat ice cream. Normal things people do, but I’m not normal. I wasn’t before Ash sold me and I’m not now, but God, do I want to be.
“Let’s take a walk through the park. Are you dressed warm enough? Then I’ll drive you home.”
“I’d like that.”
He pays our check, and I playfully poke him in the side, which earns me a slap on the ass. I wait for the shame to wash through me, the sting sizzling against my skin associated in my mind with hate and violence, but he winks and I laugh. The moment that could have made me spiral to a dark place passes. We backtrack to the industrial park to pick up Baby—I’m thrilled that I know her name again—and she sits in the extended cab and rests her snout on my shoulder.
Gage drives us to an enormous city park that has a pond in the middle of it. In the wintertime, people skate on it, but I never have. It will be frozen over now, and the city keeps the trails clear. There are several people enjoying New Year’s Day outside, and the parking lot is almost full.
He finds an open spot along the side, and parks. He opens my door, and I don’t waste the opportunity to kiss him, twisting on the bench and clutching at his jacket. Stepping between my knees, he kisses me back, his fingertips digging into my thigh. “Hmmm,” he mumbles against my lips, “what have I started?”
“Something very, very good.”
“Hmmm.”
Baby whines, and Gage breaks the kiss. He brushes his thumb over my cheek in an affectionate gesture that I love just as much as him. “Let’s get some air. Baby’s been inside all day and needs to run off some energy.”
He helps me onto the snow-covered pavement and opens the extended cab door. Baby scrambles out, and he attaches a leash to her collar. She’s trained well enough she doesn’t need it and I wish I’d suggested we go out to my place instead, but if he and Zane aren’t getting along, he might not want to spend time out there. I can’t blame him. Zane can be stubborn, and once he gets an idea into his head, the only person who can change his mind is Stella. If he thinks Gage’s and my relationship isn’t helping my recovery, it will be almost impossible to convince him otherwise.
We step onto the sidewalk, and Gage locks his truck and shoves the keyring into a jacket pocket. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, and I snuggle into his side. Maybe it’s better we didn’t drive to the house. After our walk I can tell him I’m cold and ask if he’ll warm me up...in bed.
Clouds haven’t hidden the sun, and I squint into the bright blue and white distance. There’s a group of children building a snowman a little ways off, their parents watching and gossiping amongst themselves. I like how it looks, how the scene feels, but it makes me melancholy, too. Gage said we might not ever have that. I could have children, the way I am now, a nanny, a nurse, like Ingrid, filling in the gaps, but that’s not the kind of family Gage would want.
I sigh.
“Zarah.” His voice is warm and smooth, but concerned, too. He knows what I’m thinking.
I look up at him, smile, and crinkle my eyes, hoping to reassure him, and it works, his frown evening out. He kisses the top of my head.
Baby’s excited, sniffing at all the snow and a garbage can that’s positioned near the sidewalk.
We’re about an eighth of a mile down the trail when Baby spots a squirrel. She tugs on her leash with all of her might to chase it, and Gage needs all of his might reel her in. Suddenly, without warning, a silence settles over the park and everyone stills.
“Baby,” Gage snaps, and she stops, her ears cocked, listening.
My skin begins to tingle with apprehension, and I turn to ask Gage what’s wrong.
I don’t get a chance.
In a big ball of fire, his truck explodes.
Gage tackles me, and the wind knocks out of my lungs as we hit the sidewalk. Baby starts barking like crazy, and people are screaming everywhere.
A loud shriek vibrates painfully in my ears, and everything moves in slow motion. A little girl runs away from the fire, and her mother is lying on the sidewalk, not moving. A young couple sits on the ground, the boy holding his bleeding head with one hand, the other pressed against the girl’s back as she sobs.
The acrid odor of burnt metal and melted plastic fills the air, and puffy plumes of black smoke billow from the truck. Flames eat up the interior.
Gage is frozen, waiting for something else to happen, but there isn’t another explosion and no one starts shooting. The cold is seeping through my clothes, my ribs ache, and my head throbs. My hearing is fuzzy, and voices sound muddled, as if I’m listening underwater.
In the distance, sirens shrill—cop cars, firetrucks, ambulances. The vehicles rush down the street toward the park, but I can’t tell one from the other.
The flames are burning out, leaving Gage’s truck nothing but a charred skeleton. Two cop cars and a firetruck careen into the lot, and I watch it sideways lying on the ground, Gage’s heavy body still shielding me.
“Are you okay?” he murmurs in my ear. It sounds like, Blah blah okay?
“You’re crushing me.”
“Sorry.”
He levers himself off me, but only slightly, and searches my eyes, looking for any kind of injury. I pass the test and he helps me to my feet. Keeping his arm tight around my waist, we walk toward the police cruisers. Baby’s brushing against my leg, her posture just as stiff as Gage’s.
People stand in clusters watching the dying flames, crying and consoling each other. Parents keep their kids from running toward the parking lot, but they can’t bring themselves to leave, too caught up in watching the horror. Some are filming with their phones, and because of my own experience, I know a hundred different angles of the blast will show up on social media.
The cars parked next to Gage’s truck are damaged, too, their paint bubbling and peeling, windows shattered, and I can only pray to God they were empty.
“This your truck?” one of the cops asks Gage.
“Yeah.” He grabs his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans and flicks the police officer his driver’s license and a business card.
“You know who would want to do this? Target you?”
“No, but their timing was lucky for us. If it had gone off five minutes sooner, we wouldn’t be standing here.” He says it calmly, like he isn’t talking about our deaths.
The soup and salad in my stomach flop around, and my palms start to sweat inside my gloves. He’s right, and the five minutes could have come from anywhere. If I would have gone to the bathroom when we picked up Baby, or one red light too many.
The paramedics help who they can, and two gurneys already have people strapped to them, oxygen masks covering their faces. Another ambulance jumps the curb and screeches to a halt. EMTs rush out the back and there isn’t a moment’s delay before they too, are assisting the several people too stunned to stand.
A news truck turns into the lot and a cameraman hops out. He immediately starts filming the commotion, and a reporter speaks into her microphone not waiting a second to relay all the gory details.
“You better call Zane, sweetheart. He’ll see this online.”
The cop focuses his stare onto me, and my skin crawls.
Woozy and lightheaded, I lean into Gage’s side.
Ashton Black had most of the King’s Crossing’s police force working for him for big payoffs. I wonder if they still do in some way or if they’ve turned their attention to less lucrative, but just a sleazy, bosses, wanting extra pay, recognition, and power.
“Zarah Maddox?” The cop sneers, and his partner shoots him a warning look.
“Yes.”
“Don’t suppose this has anything to do with you?”
I lift my chin. “Why would it?”
Gage shifts and nudges me behind him, cutting off the cop’s access. “She’s not a part of this.”
“How do you know?”
Inhaling a deep breath to calm my stomach, I step away and Baby follows me, her body tense and on high alert, her leash dragging on the ground. I turn my back to the camera crew and call Stella’s phone. There’s no way I’m calling Zane—he’ll go absolutely ballistic. Stella understands what it’s like to be targeted. When she teamed up with Richard Denton, my father’s business partner, Ash paid someone to push them into the Renegade while they were in his car. My engagement ring is still at the bottom of the river. No one bothered to pull the car onto dry land.
“Zarah, hey,” Stella answers, and right away I know calling her was the better choice.
“Someone blew up Gage’s truck,” I say to get that out there as quickly as possible.
“Oh, God,” she whimpers, and I’ve never heard her sound so scared. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. We weren’t near it.”
“Gage and Baby, too?”
“Yeah. We’re at the park, on Lex and Ventura. There are a few people hurt and a couple of ambulances are here, but we were far enough away. Baby was chasing a squirrel.” I try to hold back tears of panic and relief, and my voice comes out as a squeak.
She breathes into the phone, and I realize she’s trying not to cry, too. “Did you call Zane?”
“No, I called you first.”
“He’s in the city...he went to the office to do some paperwork. You need to tell him. We can’t keep secrets, even if we’re scared of what he might do.”
I kick at a pile of snow. “I know. He went to the office on New Year’s Day?”
“He said he’s got a big meeting tomorrow. Is Gage talking to the police?”
I glance at him. He and the same two cops who approached us are in a deep conversation, and two others joined their group. “Yeah.”
“Okay. I’ll ask Douglas to drive me into the city. It might be a good idea if you didn’t talk to Zane alone.”
I’ll always prefer facing Zane with Stella by my side and don’t turn down her offer. “Thank you.”
“If you have to go to the police station, text me. I’ll meet you in the lobby of our building.”
“Okay. Bye.”
Gage hears me say goodbye and turns to me. There’s a tight pull of tension around his eyes and mouth. I shove my phone into the pocket of my jacket, and he says, “They want me to go to the station. They’re going to tow the truck and inspect it.”
“I’ll go with you. Stella wants to meet us at Zane’s office when we’re done.”
He rubs his hands over his face. “Shit. He’s going to kill me.”
A cop is holding the little girl I saw running away from the fire. She’s crying, calling for her mommy. I don’t see the woman on the ground. An ambulance must have taken her to the hospital.
The shakes set in, and I stumble, falling hard onto the curb.
Someone blew up Gage’s truck. We could have been inside it.
He hauls me to my feet, and I press my face into his chest. “It’s going to be all right. I promise. I’m going to find out who did this, and I won’t stop until he’s locked up for the rest of his life—after I bash his face in.”
I lift my head. “Please,” I whisper, asking him to kiss me. I don’t care if the news crew is still filming. I don’t care who’s watching. I need him, need his lips on mine, need him to reassure me that he’s going to keep me safe.
Someone is after me, or him, or both of us, but unlike Stella, I don’t have the smarts or the courage to keep myself alive.
Gently, his hands cradling my cheeks, he brushes a kiss to my lips.
One of the cops clears his throat.
“Let’s get this done,” Gage says, his voice hard, and the cop opens the back door of a cruiser and I climb inside.
Through the back window, I watch the firefighters inspect the smoking truck and other policemen question witnesses. I don’t turn around until the park is no longer in sight.
It’s difficult to see the officers through the mesh separating the front and back seats. “I’ve never been in a cop car before.”
Gage scoffs. “Bad people end up back here.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” the cop sitting in the passenger seat says, looking over his shoulder at us.
The precinct is huge, but cleaner and more modern than I thought it would be, policemen and civilian staff busy at work. We sit in a small conference room, and the cop who drove us offers us coffee we both decline. They ask Gage questions over and over, and the one who sneered at me is especially aggressive. “Anyone you’ve shafted lately? Would they want revenge? We heard you’re dating Zarah Maddox,” he says, tipping his head at me. “Maybe Ashton Black doesn’t like that very much.”
I frown. “Ash hates me.”
“Would that matter?”
Gage meets my eyes, and I can tell it’s something he hadn’t considered. It’s...intriguing Ash would hate I’m seeing someone, and it frightens me he would have no qualms about killing me for it.
“More than likely it’s an old case and someone has an axe to grind. I’ve helped put away a lot of sleazebags, and I don’t exactly wear a halo.”
“True enough,” the cop says, lifting a shoulder. “CSU will go over the truck, see if the bomb matches the MO of any other blasts. Otherwise, guess we’ll never know. You can email me a list of the places you’ve been in the past couple of days. Maybe a traffic cam caught the guy fucking around.” He slides a business card across the table, and Gage pushes it into his wallet.
“That’s it?” Gage asks, already standing.
“Yep. You’ll probably find the asshole quicker than we will, but if anything pops, we’d appreciate the heads up. We’ll do the same.”
The cop pulls out his cell phone, dismissing us, and I trot after Gage as his long strides eat up the bullpen, Baby pausing to sniff something every five seconds.
“They’re letting us go?” I ask, surprised.
“We didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart. I’ll email the officer and ask him to send me a copy of the report for my insurance—”
“You need a new truck!”
“No.”
“No?” I wilt in disappointment.
“Tables, yes. Trucks, no.”
I pout. “What’s the difference?”
“Forty thousand dollars.”
“We make that every fifteen minutes. I heard Zane say it once.”
“That is not a consolation.”
We stand on the sidewalk, people crowding past us, traffic clogging the streets. It’s New Year’s Day, and people are in the mood to celebrate.
“Now what?”
“Zane and Stella?” Gage asks.
“Right. I forgot.”
He sighs.