It wasn’t right. But he knew what he needed to do about it.
He’d known Tavilla was behind this. He just hadn’t wanted to admit it, because, quite frankly, the man scared the everliving shit out of him. I was a coward. And now innocents are paying the price.
It was time to call Tavilla out. To take him out.
It was a dangerous game they’d been playing, and he’d known it. Watching each other, dancing around the fact that Tavilla wanted him dead. Dancing around the fact that it was just a matter of time before the snake struck.
It had also been just a matter of time before Thorne’s man inside either gave up, gave in, or gave up the ghost. He feared it was the last one, because Ramirez’s texts were not normal.
He stared at the new message on his phone’s screen. He and Ramirez had devised a code phrase to indicate trouble. Thorne had used it in his message to Ramirez, asking to meet him. Ramirez had not responded appropriately.
Meet me at 11 p.m.
That was all Ramirez had replied, so something was wrong. Wrong in Ramirez’s world meant he was probably dead. That could be because he had been passing information to Thorne, or it could be that he had simply been caught in the kind of situation that normally killed a drug dealer’s right-hand man.
Ramirez had been willing to risk himself because he hated Tavilla more than he hated Thorne. Thorne had been willing to risk himself because he wasn’t about to cave to monsters like Cesar Tavilla. Once he caved to one, the others would swarm, all demanding he represent their incredibly illegal enterprises. No. Just . . . no.
But this was no longer about only him. He’d drawn innocent people into the fray. Innocent people he cared about.
One that he loved.
And, as if he’d conjured her just by thinking of her, the scent of lavender tickled his nose. He stiffened. Everywhere. And cursed himself. I should never have said a word. He’d only added unnecessary drama to this rapidly unfolding shitshow that had become his life.
Her small hand pressed into his back and rubbed gently. He had to swallow back a groan. He wanted her affection. Her support. Her friendship. But he wanted so much more. But now . . . even if she succumbed to his ‘vast charms’, he thought bitterly, anything she gave him would be suspect. He’d always wonder if she’d given in because she felt guilty. Or worse, pitied him.
He couldn’t deal with that. He wouldn’t.
He deserved more. They both did.
‘Thorne,’ she said softly. ‘I’m sorry.’
He swallowed again. ‘For what?’ he managed.
‘For being selfish and insensitive, mostly. For other things too.’ She leaned into him, resting her forehead against his back.
‘What other things?’
She laughed quietly. ‘You’re not going to protest my being selfish and insensitive?’
He found himself – unbelievably – smiling. ‘Nope.’
‘I . . .’ He felt her body shift as she drew a breath, heard her exhale. ‘I think we need to talk about what you told me last night. In my bedroom.’
His smile vanished. ‘I wish I never had.’ Because this was headed toward rejection. He could hear it in her voice.
‘No,’ she said softly. ‘I’m glad you did. I needed to hear it. I needed to wake up.’
He held himself perfectly still. Waiting for the axe to fall. He hoped she’d be quick about it.
‘Stop,’ she whispered. ‘I’m not saying no. Stop waiting for me to say no.’
He kept himself upright through sheer stubborn will, because his knees had gone wobbly as a newborn lamb’s. ‘Are you saying yes?’
‘Maybe.’
He couldn’t stop the laugh that rumbled out. The answer was so Gwyn. ‘Maybe?’
She sighed. ‘I . . . want to tell you some things. Good things,’ she rushed to add when he tensed again. ‘Mostly. I mean, I hope. But, um, most of that’s going to have to wait a little while.’
He cleared his throat, clawing for control when he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. ‘Why are you here, Gwyn?’
‘Well . . . I’d started to come to find you for the good reason. And then I got waylaid by a really bad one. You need to hear both.’
He turned, gripping her arms gently when she leaned back so that she could see his face. He always worried she’d topple backward on those damn high heels of hers when she did that. One side of her mouth lifted, acknowledging the move.
‘I wish I were taller,’ she said with another sigh.
‘I like you just the way you are. Short and selfish,’ he added, just to see her smile again.
She obliged him, her smile sweet and shy. He hadn’t seen that smile before. He would have remembered it. He wanted to think that only he had seen it, that she’d never smiled like that at anyone else. ‘You sweet-talker, you,’ she said, but not with her usual bite of sarcasm. Her words were soft. And uncertain.
He wanted to close his eyes, to just breathe her in, but he knew that this was . . . important. He also knew that this uncertain Gwyn was not the woman he wanted. In for a penny, in for a pound.
‘Can I ask a boon?’ he asked quietly.
She blinked, the word surprising her out of her uncertainty. ‘A boon? Really? Did we fall back into Victorian England?’
‘No, we did not. And yes, a boon.’ He let go of one of her arms to run his thumb over her bottom lip, caressing.
Her eyes softened, and that was fine. He liked soft Gwyn. Just not uncertain Gwyn. ‘What is this boon, Mr Thorne?’
‘I’d like to hold you just for a minute before you give me the really bad reason you’re here.’
Instantly she reached for him, going up on her toes to cup his face between her palms. ‘Yes. We deserve that, I think.’
Not waiting to pick that statement apart, he ran his hands down her back, lifting her effortlessly, hiking her skirt up so that he could urge her legs around his waist. She sucked in a breath, then seemed to surrender, just as she did after a long argument that she knew she’d already lost but wasn’t quite ready to concede. Her shoes dropped to the floor, first one, then the other, as she tightened her legs around him.
Shuddering, he buried his face in her neck. And breathed her in.
She rested her cheek on the top of his head, her fingers threading through his hair, petting him. ‘I always wondered,’ she murmured.
He had to search for the simplest of words. ‘What did you wonder?’
‘How it would feel if you held me like this.’
‘I’ve held you before.’
‘Not like this. It was different before.’
‘How?’
She brushed her lips over his temple and he shivered, head to toe. ‘I was broken before. I’m not broken anymore.’
His chest contracted with a strength that had him fighting not to gasp. He wasn’t going to breathe hard. He wasn’t going to tremble. He wasn’t going to do anything to disturb this moment. Because it was important.
She pulled back far enough to see his face, her expression wary. ‘You don’t believe me.’
He gave in and let go of the air in his lungs. ‘No. I mean, yes, I do. I mean . . .’ He gave up trying to find the right words, because there was something off. She wasn’t telling him the truth. Not the whole truth, anyway. He’d known her long enough to know her tells. His heart felt suddenly brittle, his mind shouting at him to put her down and walk away. He gently pushed at her legs until she released her hold. She slid down the front of his body until her bare feet hit the floor and she stood looking up at him, her eyes filling with something that looked like panic.
‘You don’t believe me.’
The panic in her eyes had his own dread rising. ‘I want to.’ He swallowed hard. ‘I want to so damn much. But . . .’
‘But?’ she whispered.
‘I don’t want you saying this because you feel sorry for me.’ His voice went raspy as his throat grew too tight. ‘I couldn’t survive that. It would kill me.’
Her breathing became shallow. ‘Don’t go.’