“It was a setup, Jane. We know that now.”
“Doesn’t change the way I felt. Doesn’t erase the wound in my heart that just kept bleeding for those weeks I thought you were gone forever.”
“I’m standing right beside you.” He takes my hand and twines his fingers with mine. “And I’m not letting go.”
“I know you are. That’s part of what I’m trying to say. I’ve thought about things one way for years. Vigilantes are dangerous. Men like Benson—they put innocent people at risk in order to chase a dollar. And that’s bad. Hell, it’s evil. And even Deliverance is cutting corners. Stripping away due process. Stepping in where it doesn’t have the right and playing jury and executioner.”
“Jane—”
“No. Let me finish.” I draw a deep breath. “That’s been my core premise for so long, Dallas. And it’s so, so hard to let it go. But now … I think about what they did to you—I don’t even know what all they did to you—and I want …”
I trail off, blinking back tears. And then, finally, I force out the words. “You’re right,” I say instead. “You shouldn’t work with WORR.”
The tears spill out, and I brutally swipe under my eyes. “Dammit.”
“Jane?”
“Don’t you get it?” I turn on him, my voice as sharp as a slap. “I want whoever did this to us dead, too. I want to watch you put a bullet in his head. In her head. I want them to fucking suffer.”
My voice hitches, and I swallow back tears as he pulls me close and holds me tight. “I want that,” I manage to say, finally admitting the truth that has been dancing in my head. That talking with Bill finally drove home. “I want it so badly, and I’m not sure I like the person that makes me.”
I’m shaking, but in his arms I feel safe, and I cling to him as he strokes my back and kisses my head. “Oh, baby. Sweetheart, it makes you human.” He shifts so that he can look at my face, then gently strokes my cheek. “It will be hard on you,” he says softly. “Christ, it’s going to be so damn hard on you.”
“Because I’m not as strong as you are?” I can’t help the sharp edge in my voice.
“God, no. You’re strong—you’re even stronger than you know. And no matter how hard it gets, I’ll be beside you.”
I nod, considering his words. “I need to know the rest of it, Dallas. I need to know what you and the guys find out about who’s behind our kidnapping. I need to feel like I’m part of the process. But even more than that, I need you to tell me what that bitch did to you. I need to hear the truth of it. All of it.”
“So that you feel justified in wanting to eradicate that slime off the face of the planet?”
“Damn right. They’re evil. They’re pure, walking evil.” I draw a breath. “But it’s not just that. I want to know because I don’t want there to be any more secrets between us. I need for there not to be any more secrets. Please tell me you understand that.”
His hesitation is so brief it’s barely noticeable. But I notice.
“I do, baby. I understand. I know that you need it. And I understand why.”
He’s saying all the right things, and yet his words chill me. Because saying that he understands isn’t the same thing as promising to tell me.
I start to call him out on his evasion, but some instinct holds my tongue. Instead, I tilt my head back and force a smile, needing to lighten the moment, even if just a little. “I want to know everything about you. Sexually. Emotionally. All your secrets.” My voice is teasing, but my words are serious. And Dallas knows me well enough to realize that.
“I will, you know,” I say with certainty. “The whole story of Dallas, body and soul.”
“I know,” he says. “And you will. Eventually you’ll know everything.”
The words are exactly what I need to hear, but there’s something in his voice that scares me. Sure, he’s acknowledging that he’s holding something back, and that’s a big deal. But I’m no longer sure that this secret he’s keeping is about what the Woman did to him.
All I know is that it’s something important. Something huge.
And for the first time, I’m terribly afraid that I don’t really want to know.
Dirty Little Boy
All your secrets.
Dallas paced the basement ops center, Jane’s words still running through his head.
It was still early, not much past eight, and when she’d suggested going to the kitchen for some breakfast, he’d lied and told her he had to take care of a couple of things first.
He didn’t have shit to take care of. Or, rather, he didn’t have anything to take care of that wasn’t inside his own head.
Secrets.