“What did you do?”
“My dad’s a cop, and even though my parents had been divorced for forever, we’re close. So I knew things about evidence. And I knew things about my dad. Like the fact that he had a crappy old shotgun in his garage. It used to be his father’s, and it was a filthy mess. My dad wasn’t a hunter, but he wasn’t going to get rid of a gun. It just stayed there in the garage, unloaded, tucked in behind the spare fridge.”
“You took it.”
“Took it, cleaned it. Left it there until the night I’d picked, then I spent the night at a friend’s house—to this day my friend thinks I left her place to sleep with Tommy Marquette—and drove to my dad’s. He was working nights, so it was easy to get in the garage, get the gun, and get out.”
I drew in a breath, trying to push away the visual memories. “It was summer, and Harvey always slept with the light on. He was punishing my mother for something—I don’t remember what—and had her locked in the bathroom. So I just got myself set up outside the window as far away as I trusted my aim. There was a rock wall, and I used it to keep the gun steady. I watched, got him in the sights. And then I pulled the trigger. After that, I tossed the gun in the lake and went back my friend’s house.”
“And it was easy,” Tyler said.
I nodded. “It was.”
“That’s because it was justice.”
I shook my head. “No. No, I snapped, and I took it too far. Justice would have been him in a cage for the rest of his life. It wasn’t my right to take him out.” I looked at him, held his eyes so that maybe he would understand. “That made me the same as him.”
“The hell it did. You protected yourself. You protected your mother. The police had already failed you. What the hell else were you supposed to do?”
“You asked me once why I became a cop. Harvey Grier is one of those reasons. It’s like redemption. It’s like a second chance.”
He shook his head. “No. No, you’re wrong. You think you crossed a line, but you didn’t. He was vile. He was a monster. There’s nothing wrong with killing a monster.”
He took my hands and held the tight. “You did the right thing. Back then to protect yourself. Even tonight to protect me. You’re one hell of a cop. And I promise you that justice is safe in your hands.”
I managed a thin smile. “That’s a nice compliment,” I said, “coming from a criminal mastermind.”
“I’m squeaky clean,” he countered with a grin.
I stroked his cheek, suddenly extraordinarily tired. “I wish I could believe that,” I said. “Because that’s the fundamental gap between us. And there’s nowhere we can go from here.”
“Bullshit,” he said, then kissed me so deeply I thought I might drown in it. “I already told you. I get what I want. And I don’t do things halfway. You’re already mine, Sloane. The rest is just making the pieces fit together.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Warm hands stroked my back, easing me out of sleep.
I started to turn over, but Tyler whispered in my ear. “No. Close your eyes and drift. I have to get up early for meetings. But you’re too tempting to pass up. Just stay there.”
I did, moaning as his hands gently spread my legs, then explored me fully. Soft, feather touches. Gentle kisses. Caresses designed to soothe, not tease.
Gently, he stroked my sex until I was wet and ready. I made a small sound of pleasure, my hips moving in anticipation even though I liked this treat, this morning wake-up call.
Then he was over me, his hands spreading me so his cock could slip inside me. He thrust rhythmically, and I could sense his climax coming.