“No,” he said. “Olivia, you have to trust me. You have to.”
I felt the tears welling up against the back of my eyes, because I knew what he was really asking when he was telling me to trust him. He was telling me that I needed to work with the FBI, that I needed to turn on him.
“I…” I started, but he pulled me to him and silenced me with another kiss.
“Olivia. You need to trust me. I need to protect you.”
I could hear it in his voice, how badly he wanted it, how much he needed me to agree. And so I nodded. As much as I didn’t want to, I would have done anything he’d asked of me then, would have done anything he required.
I couldn’t deny it any longer.
It made no sense, it was crazy and insane and defied all logic.
But I was in love with Colt Cannon.
We returned to our table and finished the rest of our breakfast. Now that Colt had gotten me to agree to what he wanted, his mood had lightened considerably, and the moody broodiness was gone.
He was attentive at breakfast, talking and laughing, taking time to reach under the table to rub my knee or take my hand and pull it to his mouth and kiss my palm.
When we left, his hand was intertwined with mine, strong and secure. The sun was out now and I raised my face to it, feeling the warmth, closing my eyes as a breeze blew by. I wrapped my arms around Colt’s bicep, feeling a rush of happiness. But the happiness was short-lived. Because Colt and I weren’t just a normal couple. We weren’t just a boyfriend and a girlfriend enjoying their time out after breakfast.
There were big things going on, complicated things.
When we got into his car, Colt reached over and put my seatbelt on me, clicking it around my waist, his hand brushing the side of my breast as he did. My pulse pounded. It was so strange – I’d always thought that once you’d had sex with someone, it would take some of the edge off your attraction to them, but the fact that we’d just fucked a few minutes ago did nothing to diminish the intense want I was feeling, the urge to have his hands on my body so strong it blotted out all reason.
He reached over into the glove compartment, pulled out a tiny black box and handed it to me.
I frowned. “What’s this?”
“Open it.”
I opened it, and as soon as I did, I gasped. Nestled inside on a delicate silver chain was a beautiful star pendant made of white gold.
“Do you like it?” Colt asked.
“It’s beautiful.”
He pulled it out of the box and fastened it around my neck. “It’s supposed to symbolize protection,” he said, his hand brushing against the back of my neck “I wanted you to have something to let you know everything’s going to be okay.”
I felt the color rising high on my cheeks, the warm happiness I felt at him giving me a gift like this, something so romantic, so thoughtful taking over my body. I loved it. But at the same time, I was conflicted. How could I work with the FBI, tell them things that might get Colt in trouble? It was confusing, what he was asking me to do, and even though I’d already agreed to it, I was already having doubts.
“Colt,” I said. “I love it. But I can’t just –”
“Yes, Olivia,” he said. “You can.”
His eyes blazed, and I reached up and touched the necklace, the cool metal against my skin.
I nodded.
He shifted back in his seat, started the car and pulled out of the restaurant parking lot.
We drove to Loose Cannons, and as we got closer to the club, I could feel Colt’s tension coming back.
When we pulled in, he cut the engine and stared out the window.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I’m fine.”
“Okay.” We sat there in silence for a few more minutes. “You seem edgy.”
“No,” he said. “I’m not edgy. I’m looking forward to this.” His eyes were steely and determined, his gaze focused.
“Looking forward to what?” I asked carefully, trying to ignore the feeling of trepidation that had begun to bloom in my stomach.
“To cleaning this place the fuck out.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I knew what he was talking about, and it wasn’t cleaning the floors or making sure the glasses behind the bar were all sparkly and shiny. He was talking about getting people out.
He cut the engine. “You stay here.”
“What?” I shook my head. “No way. I’m coming.” I went to unbuckle my seatbelt, but he reached over and buckled me back in.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know what the reaction in there is going to be.”
“The reaction?”
“Yes.”
I frowned, confused, and then I got it. He meant the reaction to what he was about to tell them - that his uncle had been bought out, that there wasn’t going to be any more shady stuff, no drugs, no “favors” in the back room. He thought it might get rough.
But I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to sit in the car while he went in there and dealt with this all by himself.
“Colt,” I said. “You can’t protect me from everything.”