“Then it’s done? They’ll find him?”
“Unless I’m wrong, he didn’t come prepared. She’ll have seen him or somethin’ that identifies him. He fucked up. They always fuck up and he fucked up. Cops’re hopefully keepin’ an eye out. He knows he fucked up and he’s probably gone.”
“But he had a knife,” I pointed out.
“He uses a hunting knife. Probably keeps it clipped to his belt.”
“I still don’t get it. Why would he –?”
“Sometimes even monsters can feel the touch of a good soul,” Tate said gently. “Sunny’s a good soul. He’s convinced he’s doin’ right, teachin’ bad girls a lesson. He knew he had a good girl. He knew he was doin’ wrong. He did her there, right where we found her, left her bike, left her clothes, left the evidence of the struggle, left a trail. He’s smarter than that. Maybe he was freaked out or maybe, after what he did to Sunny, knowin’ she wasn’t his usual prey, that he hurt a good girl, he wants to get caught.”
I looked out the windshield as Tate turned into his drive. The entire time he drove down it and swung into the garage he opened with the remote, I thought about Sunny being a good soul but still finding herself attacked by a monster.
Tate switched off the truck, I grabbed my purse, hopped out and then opened the backdoor to reach in and grab one of our bags. Tate had the other one. He waited for me to precede him, I skirted my car in the garage and went to the mudroom. I dumped my purse and the bag on the floor the instant I got in.
“Toss that there, honey, I’ll worry about them tomorrow. I need a shower,” I murmured, not looking back as I walked into the hall. I kept going, flipping on the light switch by the dining room table.
Buster came out of the bedroom and stretched in the hall, booty in the air, paws straight out in front of her. She righted when I got close and asked a questioning “meow”.
I cooed nonsensically at her, leaving her for Tate who she preferred anyway. She liked me well enough but she definitely knew who her daddy was. I went into the bedroom, right to the nightstand where I switched on the light.
I started for the bathroom but got waylaid with an arm around my belly. I was pulled back, turned into Tate’s body and his arms curved around me.
“Tate,” I said looking up at him and putting my hands on his pectorals, “my hair is straggly, I still have chlorine on me. I need a –”
“You love me.”
My breath caught and my fingers automatically curled into fists against his chest.
“I –”
“Love me.”
“Tate,” I whispered.
“You said it, Ace.”
“It was the moment,” I quickly (and somewhat desperately) half-lied. It was the moment but it was also the truth. “I was having a good time with you and Jonas and I –”
“You protected him.”
I blinked then asked, “What?”
“When Neeta was there, fuck, before she even got there you had hold of him but after she did what she did, you got hold of him again and used your body to shield him.”
“That was messed up,” I said softly. “Anyone would do that.”
“Wasn’t anyone doin’ it, it was you. It was you doing handstands with him in the pool and you makin’ him eggs too.”
“Tate.”
“And bringin’ me coffee.” He paused, his face changed, shifted, that tender look came into it, not the soft and warm one, the tender one that was so sweet it made my heart stop beating and he kept talking quietly. “Long’s I can remember, he wakes rough. Takes him awhile to shake it off. You brought me coffee and left so I could be with him.”
“I didn’t know that, I just… I’m a waitress,” I explained lamely. “I bring people drinks. It’s instinct.”
He pressed his lips together.
Then he muttered, “Babe.”
“Tate,” I whispered. “I need a shower.”
Very unfortunately, he returned to his earlier subject. “You told me you love me.”
“Can we talk about that tomorrow?” I asked. “Or, um… the day after that?”
“No,” he answered.
“Captain, I was just… it was just… the moment.”
His brows drew together.
“So you don’t love me?”
My eyes slid to the side. “Well…”
“Lauren, eyes on me,” he ordered and of their own accord my eyes moved back to him and, with one look at him, my heart slid straight up into my throat.
His face was still tender but his eyes were intense, burning into mine.
His head bent and his face got close to mine.
“Say it again,” he demanded gently.
I felt the pulse in my throat beating. I licked my lips and stared into his eyes.
“Baby, say it again,” he repeated.
“I don’t want –”
His arms gave me a squeeze.
“What’d I tell you?” he asked.
“About what?” I asked back, not following.
“About bein’ safe here,” he answered.
“This isn’t safe,” I whispered.
“Why not?”