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  “One last thing before I go, sweetheart,” Silas drawls, talking over me. “Did you happen to catch the visitor I sent you today?”

  My stomach plummets at the confirmation that Silas is having me—no, us—followed. I wasn’t just imagining things. The man on the highway this afternoon was the same man I saw outside the tavern in Dallas.

  I haven’t managed to formulate a response when Silas speaks again, in a tone that brooks zero nonsense. “You have two days. I’ll be watching.”

  Sensing he’s about to hang up, I speak in a blur. “Nicky? Is my brother okay? Please, just let me talk to him.”

  “Resa…” A cracking cough. “I’m fine.”

  The line goes silent.

  My hand drops to my lap, the phone skittering across the floor. Instead of bursting into hysterical tears, though, I feel eerily numb. I’m sitting on a bathroom floor in Arkansas, I just realized the vanity lights are in the shape a cattle horns, and my brother is physically hurt. Out of my reach and at the mercy of a sociopath. I have two days to ensure he doesn’t become a murderer.

  How am I supposed to walk out of this bathroom and act normal? How can I set aside what I just heard over the phone and not have Will see right through me to the terrified sister beneath? It has been years since I tried and quit yoga—everyone in Los Angeles tries at least once—but I call on those breathing exercises now. In through my nose, out through my mouth. I imagine a marble rolling down from the top of my head, gliding down the curve of my throat, over my arms, hips, legs. There. I’m here and I’m fine. In two days, once I’ve completed the god-awful task in front of me, I will shatter and break for a little while. No way around that. But I will not break now. I won’t let my parents down and I won’t let Nicky drown in the life we escaped.

  Standing on shaky legs, I reenter the bedroom, intending to change my clothes and go check out the balcony. Maybe the fresh air will help center me more than an imaginary marble and get my head right. But I find myself stopping halfway between the bathroom and the bed, my attention drawn to the door leading to the hallway. Will said he needed to make a phone call, but I don’t hear his voice. I don’t hear Southpaw’s usual shuffles and grunts, either.

  I have this paralyzing thought that Will overheard me and left to call the police from the front desk. But no. If Will found out about my duplicity, there would be an argument. A loud one. He might leave afterward—that certainty makes me miserable—but there would be yelling first. Hate sex, too. Definitely hate sex.

  With that conclusion in mind, I step into the hallway and jerk to a stop. Will’s back is to me and he’s lying in the bed with Southpaw. They aren’t touching, but they’re cuddling from a distance. And if my gut wasn’t telling me to worry, I would laugh at the silly picture painted by these two hulking creatures spooning.

  “Will?” I whisper.

  His shoulders stiffen, but he doesn’t turn around.

  My worry increases. Taking a deep breath, I move into the dim room. Twilight has turned to night and no lights have been turned on. As soon as I reach the bed, though, I can still see that Southpaw seems…off. Curled in on himself instead of sprawled out, as is his usual default.

  There’s a painful twist inside my ribcage as my gaze slides to Will.

  He doesn’t look back.

  “Can I do anything to help?”

  His voice is made of smoke. “No.”

  I should leave the room. Already I’ve formed a dangerous attachment with this man. After the phone call with Silas, my budding hopes of coming clean are out the window. There’s way too much at stake and I’m not in New York to prevent the unthinkable from happening if Silas finds out I’ve revealed myself to his son. Comforting Will and getting in even deeper will only intensify the hurt racing in our direction, won’t it?

  Yes. Yes, but I couldn’t be dragged from this room by a sumo wrestler. I’m a part of this. I’ve been painted into this picture and I can’t let Will lie here hurting alone. We’ll both be doing enough of that in the very near future.

  “Hey,” I murmur, kneeling on the bed behind Will. When he still doesn’t look at me, I begin massaging the stiff muscles of his back. It doesn’t help. He only grows more tense, especially his jaw, which flexes in the muted light. But I keep going, dragging my thumbs up his spine, digging them into his neck. Circling. And gradually, slowly, his breath starts to come easier, his big body turning until he’s lying on his back and my hands are smoothing over his chest, his face, my fingers tracing his cheeks and eyebrows. “Hey,” I whisper. “You want to talk about it?”

  “No,” he says gruffly, capturing my wrists and tugging me down beside him so I’m wedged between Will and a sleeping Southpaw. “I want to talk about anything else, baby. Help me out with that?”

  There’s always sex in Will’s eyes when he looks at me, but it’s overshadowed now by the plea there. He needs me right now. He’s letting me see how much, and it sends my heart into a marathon. “Anything else?”

  He nods.

  “What did you mean?” I slide closer and inhale the scent clinging to his collar. “When you said you’ve been told a lot of shitty things lately?”

  His exhale comes out in a rush. “You couldn’t ask me my favorite movie or something easy.”

  I lay my head on his shoulder and it’s the single most divine position I’ve ever been in. Bar none. “Tell me that instead, if you want.”

  “No.” He brushes my hair away from my face, looking fascinated by how it moves. “No, it’s just the kind of story that will make you look at me with sympathy. I don’t want that.”

  “How do you want me to look at you?”

  “Like I can spin the world whatever direction you want.” His thumb drags along my lower lip. “Like you’re frustrated and want me to fuck it better.”

  So protective. God, if Will knew we’d been followed here from Texas by one of his father’s associates, he would shit a brick. Or would he throw me right to the wolf himself? This is a man who takes my safety seriously. Checking into this place proved that. Not telling him of an immediate threat? I’m not sure he could forgive it so easily. “I-I’ll have to practice my fuck-it-better look in the mirror.”

  “Nah, you’re wearing it right now. Try to keep it from slipping while I tell you this story, all right?”

  “All right.”

  He nods, his hand beginning to coast up and down the hill and valley of my side, leaving goosebumps behind. “It was just me and my mother growing up, and she was constantly telling me stories about my father. He worked for the government. Some…” He shakes his head. “Some secretive, military operations bigwig who traveled the globe, taking down bad guys. Living with us wouldn’t have been safe, so he only came once a year. On my birthday.”

  I’m frozen to the mattress. Why did I ask him this question? Didn’t I know where it would lead? Now he’s trusting me enough to reveal secrets I have no right to know. But I can’t make him stop. I can’t. Because I’m desperate to learn everything I can about him. It’s a compulsion and…God, I think my heart has started calling the shots.

  “It sounds ridiculous now, but when you’ve been told something—over and over again—from birth, it becomes this unshakeable fact. You know?”

  I nod, unable to speak around the knot in my throat.

  “When I was younger, the visits were fun. He’d take me to Hersheypark or to the movies. But when I got older, they mainly consisted of lectures. About school, my grades, my future. And even though I hated school and wanted to use my fists for a living, I fucking listened to him. Because he was this bright, shining military hero who sent money to my mother, wishing he could be with us, but knowing our protection was more important. He was a presence in our house without even being there. A god.”

  He pauses to swallow, his hand turning into a fist on my hip. I’m fighting a battle to keep from stiffening, but I see what’s coming now and I’m outraged on his behalf, whether I have the right or not. “The day I found ou
t Southpaw was sick, I got an anonymous file in the mail.” His eyes shift away from mine. “There are men on my payroll who deal in information and I’m sure it came from one of them. Looking out for my interests so I’ll remain in a position to continue looking out for theirs.”

  For a long time, he doesn’t say anything. The silence stretches so long, I have no choice but to prompt him through parched lips. “What did it say?”

  A muscle jumps in his cheek. “I didn’t always want to wear a tie to work, Teresa. I was a fighter and I loved it. It suited me. My father…he’s the reason I quit the sport I loved and started studying so hard. He’s the reason I’ve been living this life that makes me feel like a stranger in my own skin—and it turns out he’s nothing more than a criminal. Not a small-time one, either. He’s done horrific things. All this time, I thought of him as this noble superhero and he’s been lying to me, along with my mother. I built myself into the man I am for him. And he’s not even real, Teresa.” Shrewd eyes shift back to mine. “You want me to fuck it better. That’s how you’re supposed to be looking at me.”

  “S-sorry,” I rush to say, willing the pressing heat behind my eyelids to disappear. Doing my best impression of a pouty Revlon commercial, I tug him closer by the collar. “Is that better?”

  “Hell yeah.” He drags his lips side to side along mine. “That’s the stuff.”

  “Will?”

  “Yeah, woman?”

  I rub my hand up the center of his chest. “He didn’t touch the man on the inside. He didn’t even come close.”

  We breathe into each other’s mouths, eyes open and locked. The intimacy of the moment, the way he looks at me like he’s half in awe, half grateful, is something that will probably haunt me forever. Now that I know what Silas did to Will, this betrayal of mine is so much deeper than I thought. But not tonight. Tonight I’m the woman who’s falling for him and his dog, heart, body and soul.

  As I turn over and snuggle into the curve of his body, our fingers laced together, I say a prayer that he’ll think back and remember us falling asleep together beside his sleeping dog.

  And know deep down it was real.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Will

  The Teresa I fell asleep holding last night is not the same Teresa I woke up with. A few minutes ago, we pulled into Ouachita and I watched from my lean against the car as she attached her GoPro to Southpaw’s collar, instructing him in murmurs to act natural. As soon as she finished her handiwork, he went hurtling down a path toward the trees, last night’s bout of exhaustion apparently a thing of the past. For now. Teresa walks beside me on the path, her eyes looking shaded and tired, telling me she didn’t catch as many Z’s as I did. Christ, I haven’t logged this many hours of sleep in a decade—all since Teresa showed up.

  Neither she nor Southpaw were in bed when I woke, shocked to find daylight filtering in through the white hotel room curtains. But I could hear the happy jingle of Southpaw’s collar out in the living room, his exuberant snuffs telling me I could afford to lie in bed a few extra minutes. And I needed them, because the relief that I had another day with him was followed by the bracing reality of how I feel about Teresa. She knew exactly what I needed last night, even when I didn’t and all I could think of was dragging her back to bed so I could worship her pussy.

  When I walked into the living room, intending to do just that, I found her already showered and dressed, twisting a cup of coffee side to side on the breakfast bar, looking distant. Anxious. Not in a fuck it better, Will kind of way, either, otherwise we would still be wrecking the bed. I don’t have experience with women beyond casual sex, but there’s nothing casual about me and Teresa. She’s got something on her mind and I need to know about it so I can fix it. Then we’ll get to the wrecking.

  After the phone call with my associate yesterday, one of my theories is she’s on the run after some shady shit went down at her job. Something worse than just the illegal activity she initially told me about. If that’s the case, it’s already being handled. I can’t tell her that, though, or she’ll know I dug into her personal life. And we’re not solid enough yet to put a potential crack in the foundation we’re building.

  One I intend to keep building, no matter what.

  Teresa is mine. My bones know it. My head. Even the heart I thought was too damaged and scabbed over to be touched knows she belongs with me.

  The hard part is being patient while she figures it out.

  “You’re quiet,” I say. “You’re missing your pink cowgirl room, aren’t you?”

  Her surprised laugh hits me right in the stomach. “You caught me.” She rolls her lips together on a long pause. “No, it’s just…I’ve had a change of plans, Will.”

  My feet stop moving on the path, a boulder coming to rest inside my stomach. Tamping down on my instincts is hard as a motherfucker. I want to get right up in her personal space and tell her yes, they have changed. To include me. But I don’t think I’d get another word out of her if I followed those impulses. And I need to know what I’m up against.

  Teresa stops on the path, too, looking everywhere but me while continuing her explanation. “I-I guess I’ve been debating when and how to tell you. Or if this thing between us…if it’s substantial enough that I even need to tell you I’m—”

  “It is.”

  A puff of air leaves her. “Okay. I’m flying to New York tomorrow morning.” She adjusts her sunglasses. “The friend I’m staying with is leaving on a trip soon. We have to do the apartment key hand off, plus I want to see her before she goes.”

  “When did you speak to your friend?”

  Her right eyebrow arches. “She messaged me last night while we were sleeping. I got it this morning.”

  “Her trip kind of came out of nowhere, didn’t it?”

  “Um. Welcome to the age of spontaneous millenials. Make yourself at home.”

  We’re squared off on the path, almost-lovers to adversaries in a matter of seconds. I’ve never wanted to fuck her more than I do right now, the other park-goers be damned. I’d plant her open knees on the path and give her my cock from behind, while I patiently explain in her ear that I’m becoming more than a little obsessed with her. And her getting on a plane without me isn’t an option if I want to keep my sanity intact. “Fine.” As I move past her, I plant a hard kiss on her lips. “I’ll handle plane reservations.”

  She jogs after me. “Reservations plural?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will,” she mutters, grabbing hold of my arm. “Would you stop for a second?”

  I quit moving even though I want to jump out of my skin. “Let me ask you a question, Teresa. Do you want to leave?”

  “Leave you and Southpaw?” she whispers. I give a single nod and attempt to prepare myself for her answer. When she shakes her head, it’s like I’ve just been given a stay of execution. “No. I really don’t.”

  “Okay. That’s good.” I clear my throat of rust. “Do you have to leave?”

  “Yes.”

  I can’t pinpoint what is it about her too-fast answer that makes me suspicious, but there’s something off about the hint of pleading in her tone. The way she’s trembling even though the sun beats down on us. “Is this friend of yours really a man?” The question is out before my brain gives the formal command. No, when it comes to Teresa and other men, my brain vacates the building. “I hope for his sake that’s not the case.”

  “It’s not.” Fire kindles in her eyes—and I was wrong before. It’s possible to want to fuck her even more than I already did. “I’m giving your macho attitude a lot of leeway.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “Good. Don’t push it.”

  We’re both breathing heavy, but we’re forced to put our stand-off on hold while a family of four passes. No, their arrival doesn’t make me any less horny, and as soon as they’re out of earshot, I take a step closer to Teresa, putting our faces a few inches apart. “You don’t want to leave us, but you have no ch
oice. I do have a choice. So I’m making it. Because I’m not letting you get away from me.”

  The flames in her eyes are doused, her mouth softening. “But this trip is important to you.” She looks off toward the tree line, her words halting. “It’s important to him. Y-you should think about it a little harder.”

  “Jesus.” Frustration snaking into my throat, I reach up to shake her shoulders but let my hands drop before I can follow through. “Maybe this trip wasn’t just about giving Southpaw the final days he deserves. Maybe it was about meeting you. No. You know what? It was.” I pace away and come back, energy snapping in my joints. “I used to wake up at five in the morning. And now, it’s like I’m making up for every single minute of sleep I’ve missed my entire life. Maybe I was missing sleep because I knew you were out there, baby, and I hadn’t met you yet.”

  “Will. Stop,” she breathes, covering her face with both hands. “Oh God, this is moving too fast. I didn’t expect you to be you. Didn’t expect any of this.”

  “Yeah? Me either.” I pry her wrists away from her face, alarmed to see panic in her expression, before she can hide it. “Am I really moving too fast or is there something holding you back? I will demolish it to keep you with me, Teresa. Just talk to me.”

  “Yes, it’s moving too fast,” she blurts, jumping on the explanation I wish I hadn’t offered her. The step she takes backwards might as well be the length of a mile, her eyes staring at nothing over my shoulder, same as they were this morning. “I only left home a week ago. I don’t want to be tied down before I even get where I’m going. God.”

  The strong sense that she’s not being truthful doesn’t completely ease the blow. What I hear is that she doesn’t feel the same—and considering what I’d be willing to sacrifice for her now and in the future, considering I’m aching just looking at this woman, those words are unacceptable. “You’ve got me tied down. How about that? I’m tied the fuck down.”