I pour myself a whiskey and sit down in the ratty old leather chair that’s perched in the corner of my room. I sip the drink and wait, my gun loaded on the desk next to me.

I don’t know what to expect. I look at my texts again, the mysterious message from Cora, and I try to figure out what it is. Maybe someone showed up outside of her house again, but I doubt she’d want to leave her place if that’s the case. Maybe she just got spooked and wanted to get out.

Or maybe she’s coming over because she doesn’t want me to leave.

I shake my head, trying to get rid of that thought. Of course she wants me to stay. She wants me to work this case and find her brother’s killer, nothing more than that.

She’s not coming over because she wants to take her clothes off slowly and let me touch every inch of her skin.

I sip my drink, savoring that tight burn as it goes down. Truth is, that’s what I want. Fuck all this other shit happening in this garbage town. Fuck Atticus for getting himself killed and for being a wedge between me and Cora. I just want her here, lips pressed against mine, hand on my throbbing cock.

I can’t think of the last time I wanted someone this badly. Whenever I wanted something in the past, I always got it, always got a taste. I’m the fucking Lovemaker, I can always get any piece of pussy that comes my way.

This though… this is different. This situation with Cora is so fucking complicated, and there are so many layers between us. Atticus is the specter that haunts us, but it’s not just him. I’ve known Cora for a long time, so it’s our childhood memories that are wrapped up in this thing we have going on, whatever it is. I know she’s feeling it too, I’ve seen the way she looks at me.

But if I’m going to work this case, which I’m definitely not going to do, I can’t get involved with her. I’m going home tomorrow, but if for some reason I do stay, I have to keep my distance.

I grip my glass. I can’t think like that. I can’t keep leaving myself room to stay here. I have to commit to leaving and just get back to my life. This place isn’t my home anymore and Atticus isn’t my fucking problem.

I stare at the wall, fighting with myself. If something bad happens to her, I’m responsible. I got her in the sights of the Niners. Before, she was still under the radar, and who knows what would have happened. But with my help, now they know who she is, and that’s my fault.

Can I really just tell her good luck and run away from this? I’m not that kind of fucking man, but I also don’t know how I’m going to drop everything in my life and stay here to work this case.

I’m torn in half, trying to figure out what I’m going to do. I should never have agreed to help her, but I couldn’t stop myself. She’s so fucking gorgeous, and every ounce of me itches to touch her, to taste her, to make her feel good.

I finish off my whiskey just as there’s a knock at my door. I stand up and hesitate, still not sure what she’s coming here for, but ready to find out. I walk over and pull the door open.

Cora stands there, arms wrapped around herself, a slight frown on her face. Instantly, I know this isn’t a good visit. “Are you okay?” I ask her.

She nods. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” I step aside and she walks into my shabby little room. I shut the door behind her and follow her in.

She turns to me. “Got anything to drink?”

“Just whiskey.”

She nods. “Fine. Okay.”

I grab another clean glass and pour her a little bit and myself another. She takes the drink and tosses it back in one go, making me raise an eyebrow.

“Okay, tell me what’s wrong,” I say to her. “Did someone come to your house again?”

My heart’s hammering, imagining them coming near her again. If those fucking scumbags hurt Cora, I’d kill them, every single one of them.

She shakes her head. “I got a phone call,” she says.

I steady myself. “What did they say?”

“Threatened me.” She turns to the bottle and pours another drink. “Said that what happened to Atticus would happen to me, too.”

I take a sharp breath. “Do you know who it was?”

She shakes her head. “I couldn’t place the voice. I don’t think it was Jaxson.”

I frown a little. “Someone else from the Niners.”

“Wyatt, they’re threatening to kill me.”

I nod, keeping my voice steady. “I know. But they won’t.”

“Why not? They killed my brother.” She sips her whiskey this time, not throwing it back, and makes a face.

“It would be way too much trouble to kill you,” I say. “That would guarantee the cops would descend on them.”

“Do you think they care? They’re thugs.”

I shrug a little. “True, but they’re thugs that kept themselves from getting busted for this long.”

“Maybe. But you didn’t hear him.” I notice her shivering, and she turns back to the window. “I think he meant it.”

I step up behind her and gently turn her around. She looks up at me, fear and worry clear on her expression, and I feel something deep down inside of me.

I don’t hesitate and I don’t think about it. I pull her against me and I tip her chin up toward me. She doesn’t resist as I slowly kiss her lips, gently at first, until she presses herself against me harder, melting into the kiss.

I don’t know how long that kiss lasts, but it feels like hours. I kiss her low and deep, tasting her, letting the desire I’ve been keeping pent up inside of me rush out along my skin. I want to take her so badly right now, press her down against the bed, slide my cock between her pretty little lips. I want to hear her beg and moan my name, over and over, sweating and working and pressing herself down.

But more than all of that, I know I can’t run away. I have a responsibility now. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten involved, but I did, and I’m way more involved than I ever could have guessed. Maybe I didn’t fully understand it until now, but this kiss, it’s waking something up inside of me. I’ve been keeping it away, but it’s here now, and I can’t get rid of it.

She breaks the kiss off. I know I wasn’t going to be able to do it. She steps back, looking surprised. “We shouldn’t,” she says.

“You’re right.”

“Shit.” She knocks her drink back.

“Listen, it’s okay.”

“I have to go.” She walks past me, toward the door.

“Wait, Cora,” I say, walking after her.

She quickly leaves. I get outside and call after her again, but she doesn’t look back.

“Fuck,” I say softly, frowning as she hurries toward her car. I watch her get in and drive off, and I don’t go back inside until her taillights disappear around the corner.

Maybe I fucked up by kissing her, but I couldn’t help myself. And at least now I know something for sure.

I’m not going anywhere. I started this, and now I have to see it through.

But not for Atticus. I’m doing this for Cora.