Chapter 40 #2
He should’ve turned up last night. Why didn’t he?
Because you told him not to.
Because he’s giving you space.
Because he’s ‘smart,’ like Kurt keeps saying.
How damn smart is he when he didn’t come and find me? Surely the right thing to do was hammer on my door last night until I eventually let him in?
Idiot man.
First thing we’re doing is going shopping for phones. Together. Like a goddamn phone-shopping date.
It’s only a five minute ride to Declan’s apartment, but I still have to force myself to go slow. There are cops all over the place, and this would be the worst possible time to get pulled over.
I breathe a sigh of relief to see his truck parked outside his apartment. Then give it a scowl when his Fireblade is already loaded on the back of it. He is planning on leaving.
And go where? Without telling me?
I don’t bother ringing his buzzer but enter the door code, walking in through the lobby, skipping the world’s slowest elevator and using the stairs instead. It doesn’t take long to reach his floor, where my impulsiveness fades, and my steps slow.
Last time I was here, I interrupted him with… whoever the hell that was. The woman ‘from his past’—another lie, probably. Maybe she was FBI?
No, not likely. Not dressed like that.
Something to ask him. He did promise he’d be honest.
His door is closed, but there’s movement within. Like furniture shifting.
I take a breath, raise my hand to knock, then freeze.
Do I know what I’m doing?
What the hell am I doing?
Winging it.
That’s not an answer.
The right thing.
Okay, that’s a better answer, even if I don’t know why it is, or what that means.
Fuck it, let’s find out.
I rap three times on his door, bite at my lip, and try to calm my racing heart.
His footsteps sound from inside the apartment, then the door opens.
He’s in jeans. Nothing else, like the man doesn’t own shoes or a shirt. Damn, that’s distracting.
“Raven!” His eyes widen, pale blue and startled, then a smile starts to form. “Uh…” Delight changes to confusion to consternation, the smile fading. “You came.” Hurt flickers across his eyes, and he searches my face. “I didn’t think you would.”
So… this is going to be awkward.
“Do you want to do this in the hallway, or… can I come in?”
He says nothing but takes a pace back, opening the door wider. Invitation enough, I suppose.
I walk in. Three boxes sit on the floor, two full, one half-packed. All of them small, like he’s hardly taking anything.
Nowhere to go. Nowhere to live. I did that to him.
“Packing?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“Leaving?”
“This apartment, yeah.”
“Where are you going?”
“My sister has a spare room.” He winces, shoving the fingers of both hands into his jeans pockets. It makes his forearms tense, his chest tightening. Drawing my eyes. “I’m… uh… short of options.”
I swallow. Five seconds in this man’s presence, and I can’t look away from him. “Don’t you own a shirt?”
Shit. Why did I say that?
“Yeah… sorry.” He starts for the bedroom.
“Don’t bother,” I say quickly. It comes out a little high, a bit desperate.
He stops within a pace, tilting his head a fraction as he regards me.
“Forget it,” I add in a mutter, feeling my cheeks flame. “Just… we need to talk. More important things than…” Putting clothes on that body.
“Right,” he says. He clears his throat. “I resigned. Officially, this time.” He glances at the boxes and huffs a laugh. “Obviously.”
“I heard.” And he did it for me. Tears prickle at my eyes as I look at him.
He’s standing there, hands still in his pockets, a little self-conscious, yet still strong. Still solid, like nothing could shake him. But from the way he’s watching me, guarded and unsure, I sense that’s not true. Like the only thing that could shake him is me, and whatever I say next.
“Did you give the box to Renner?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
He nods. “Good.” A hand goes up and rubs the back of his neck, and it makes his chest move in ways that are far too distracting. I should’ve let him put his shirt on. “I’m glad he got it.”
“You didn’t want to hand it in to your boss?”
“No need,” he says quietly. “Renner could…”
“Could what?” I prompt when he trails off. I know what Kurt said, but I need to hear it from Declan.
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you when we met last.” He gives me a wry half-smile, a reminder without saying it that I didn’t let him get a word in edgeways.
“But the reason I wanted that box was to… uh… negotiate.” He gives a small shrug.
“It was… valuable to people high up, and I wanted to use it to ensure… as leverage.”
That was just about as much hedging as could be fit into one answer.
I cross my arms. “Remember when we talked about telling the truth?”
“…Yeah…”
“Oh, good. Just checking you’re not having a relapse. You want to try that again?”
He flinches. Takes a breath. Looks away then forces himself to meet my eyes.
“I took the box because I wanted to use it to ensure that you weren’t prosecuted when they went after Renner, and probably the rest of the crew.
” He tenses. “I know you wouldn’t accept me if that happened.
I know you’d still hate me for betraying your friends. I just… wanted you to be… safe.”
“Safe?” I echo. “Safe, when my friends are in prison?”
“Yeah.” He closes his eyes like it hurts. “Well, it was a shit plan, so I didn’t do it. Luckily, Renner gave assurances instead.”
“Did he now?” That was news to me. “What kind of assurances?”
“It’s not really my place to say,” he begins, using the same language Kurt used, making me wonder what the two of them discussed. “But I promised I wouldn’t lie to you. Renner’s working for the CIA.”
I hold up a hand. “Okay, let’s stop there. Two people can’t have a relationship without lies—”
“It’s not a lie,” he says quickly. Then gives me a stunned look as what I actually said sinks in. “Huh?”
“What if I ask you if my butt looks big in something?”
“A relationship?” A smile grows slowly into a grin. “You mean it?”
“Or if we have birthdays coming up. Presents to hide. Gotta be able to lie a little bit, right?”
“Your butt is amazing,” he says. “It could never look big in something, and even if it did, I’d still want to grab it with both hands.”
“You say that now. Wait a few years.” I’m not even sure where I’m going with this, and continue in a mutter, “I hear ravens mate for life.”
“Wait a minute.” He turns and walks into the bedroom, leaving me standing there. Not quite sure what just happened. Or what I said. Or why the hell I said what I said.
Did I really just… jump the whole way from hating him to planning out the next few years together?
Did I ever really hate him?
Hell yes I did.
Loved him, too. Still do.
Fuck, and now I’ve scared him off. Coming on strong, like some crazy woman. After telling him I never want to see him again.
He walks back in, a sheet of paper in his hand. “Sorry, it took me a moment to find it.” He shrugs. “I packed it.”
“Find what?” I can’t see it clearly. It looks like some hand-written notes.
“There’s a 9-ball pool tournament early September.”
“What?” Of all the things I expected him to say. “One more time?”
“It’s open entry,” he continues, holding the single sheet like it’s something precious. “The standard is high… I don’t know if we’ll do too well, but…”
“Declan, what are you talking about?”
“…it’s in New Jersey,” he says, voice going soft. “Thirty-five hundred miles without a single interstate. Route 66… Ozark Mountains… Cumberland Gap. The Blue Ridge Parkway, obviously. Three weeks on the road.”
I feel a smile trying to get out, but force it back. “You want to go and play pool in New Jersey?”
“I don’t give a shit where we play pool,” he says honestly, the hand holding the sheet falling to his side.
“I just want to go for a ride with you, Hellcat. For days and days and days. We’ll be staying in shitty motels because, well, I’m a little strapped for cash, but the point is the road, right? ”
I hold out my hand. “Let me see that.”
He passes me his sheet of paper, hope blooming in his eyes.
“It goes through New Mexico,” I say.
“Yeah.”
“You’re missing the Million Dollar Highway.”
“Well… sure. Could jog north through Colorado then back southeast into Oklahoma.”
“I want to ride it,” I tell him, taking a pace closer. “With you.”
“With me?” His smile lights up his eyes.
“Uh-huh.” My hand lies flat against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and the steady, fast beat of his heart.
His hands close gently on my waist, like I’m something fragile.
“You know what else is good about that road?” I ask.
“Runs through the San Juan Mountains,” he says without hesitating. “Eleven thousand feet elevation, no guardrails, exactly your kind of ride.”
And that is why I love this man.
“True, but not what I meant. It just so happens that a million dollars was our share of that job.”
“Yeah… but I can’t take it.” He shakes his head. “I’m not really part of the crew.”
“Kurt changed the payout anyway,” I tell him.
“Figures,” he says, jaw clenching. “Did he screw you? Do I need to talk to him?”
And that’s another reason I love this man. Stepping up to fight for me at the slightest provocation.
“No, Kurt didn’t screw us. He’s given us half the loot. You and me.”
Declan blinks slowly. “The two bags of diamonds?”
“Yeah. I don’t have them—Kurt’s fencing them—but it’s about four million after it’s cleaned. Two each.” I slide a hand up to cup his jaw, his beard coarse against my palm. “So. Million dollar road to celebrate, huh?”
He leans in like he’s going to kiss me, then pulls back. “You once asked me if I could make love and not just fuck.”
“I did,” I agree carefully.
“I can. I promise I’m going to treat you gently, the way you should be treated.”
“That’s a lovely sentiment, and I’m down for that.” I pause. “You also said you could’ve gone harder.”
“Yeah.” He tenses under my hands. “What I meant was—”
“I want to find out what that’s like instead.”
His eyes widen. Heat blooms in their depths. His hands rise swiftly, cupping my face, holding me so tight I couldn’t move even if I wanted to.
And I don’t.
Then his mouth is on mine. A bruising kiss, his tongue forcing its way in, hungry and raw. His heart beats faster beneath my hand. I open to him, moaning into his mouth, sliding an arm around his neck and pulling him to me.
“How long… until… you have to vacate this place?” I ask between breathless kisses.
“End of the day.” His hands unzip my jacket, pushing it off my shoulders to fall to the floor.
“About six hours?” I grasp the hem of my shirt and pull it swiftly over my head, then throw myself back against his chest.
“Something like that.” His arms slide around me, pulling me to him, his hands finding my ass.
“How many orgasms in six hours?”
“Well now, that depends.” Declan’s sadistic little grin is exactly what I need to see. “Are you going to be a good girl?”
“Fuck, no.”