Alex Brett wasn’t someone I—or anyone else, for that matter—would be able to coerce into doing something he didn’t want to. That’s why, until now, I’d felt only trickles of guilt at him becoming involved in my plight against my father. I didn’t want him involved, or in danger, on my behalf, but there was no way I would be able to convince him to step away. And until now, he hadn’t been in actual danger, and nothing that resembled an attack had been directed toward him.

At least, that’s what I told myself. I might’ve known better, but remaining in some semblance of denial was welcomed in comparison to falling apart over what could happen to him.

But Alex wasn’t going to back down. He’d made that loud and clear. In his words, and in his grudging acceptance of Chief Conway’s suspension.

He’d lost his job. Temporarily, but still. It was because of me, because of what he’d unwittingly become involved in. The dam within me that held my guilt at bay exploded open, and those sporadic trickles became an all-consuming wave, crashing through me with excruciating force.

“You can go back in there, Alex,” I said for the tenth time since being ushered back out toward the vehicle. “You can tell your boss that you—”

“Hailey!” Alex opened the passenger door for me, pointing for me to get in. “I could, but I won’t. Now, get in.” As an afterthought, he added, “Please.”

I thought of offering to go back in there myself, but decided against it, knowing it’d probably end with him shoving me into the passenger seat and yelling at me out of pure frustration. I had to pick my battles, and this wasn’t one I was going to win right now. Defeated, I got in and buckled my seatbelt.

Alex slammed the door and made it around to his side. He slammed his own door, harder than necessary, and shoved the key in the ignition. “I’m not angry with you.” His gaze was focused somewhere beyond the windshield, his voice just as distant. “And I don’t blame you for this. I just want you to know that. I need you to know that.”

With that, he put the vehicle in drive and exited the station parking lot, not even acknowledging the two officers who’d escorted us out, who stood near the parking space, staring at him through the windshield like he’d just lost his mind.

* * *

If he wasn’t mad at me, he had an interesting way of showing it. Not only were we holed back up in his apartment, doors locked and drapes pulled partway closed, but the living space was void of sound save for the sizzle of oil sputtering in the sauté pan on the stove and the constant hum of the refrigerator. Alex hadn’t even turned the television on for background noise when we got here, and I didn’t think it was my place to do it myself.

He hadn’t said a word, just kicked off his shoes in the entryway, hung his jacket, and retreated into the kitchen, busying himself with the task of cooking. He didn’t ask me to help, and I didn’t offer. In fact, not once had he even sent a momentary glance my way, and I wondered if he was trying to pretend I wasn’t here.

Unable to handle the tension and avoidance, I disappeared into the bathroom with a handful of my clothes and toiletries. A piping hot shower was a better way to pass the time than being invisible.

When I came out, I’d managed to ease my worries about what Alex might or might not be thinking. The fact that I’d managed to wash my hair, albeit painfully, was welcomed, too. I might’ve stolen a sniff of his cologne bottle again as well, which helped to erase the lines etched on my face, replacing them with a fluttering in my chest.

My hair hung in damp strands, leaving darkened spots on the long-sleeved shirt I’d put on. It was mine, fitted, and it felt good to be wearing my own clothes again, no matter how plain they might be. Alex was just dishing out the dinner he’d made, dividing the wok’s contents onto two plates on the island.

“I want to talk to you,” I said mildly.

He didn’t look up, turning instead to put the pan in the sink. “I need to talk to you, too.”

Need, I thought. Not want.

“But first, come and get something to eat. You must be starving.”

I was. Famished, actually. But I was hungrier for his voice, for him to confide in me, to let me in. I wanted to know what was going on in his mind. “You can’t talk and eat at the same time?”

His mouth quirked, but only slightly. “That wouldn’t be very polite, now would it?”

“You know what I mean, Alex.” He pushed one of the plates toward me from the other side of the island, and I reached out, clasping his wrist in my fingers. He looked up, his eyes dark and intense. “I want you to talk to me,” I pleaded. “You’re scaring me.”

“I’m not trying to.” He didn’t outright say he was sorry, but there was an apology between his words. “It’s how I process things. How I try to figure out what’s going on, what comes next. I’m not used to having someone around to watch me do it, I guess.” He tilted his head toward the living room, and I lifted my plate and followed him in there.

“Maybe I can help.”

“Maybe you can.”

“Just tell me how.” We sat adjacent to each other, our plates on the coffee table in front of us. Alex pulled the table closer, making it easier to eat while we spoke.

After his first mouthful, he swallowed. “You can tell me what your father said to you on the phone.”

Suddenly, my appetite was gone. I’d been completely honest and forthcoming with Officer Montagne earlier; he knew everything. He would tell Alex. It was just a matter of whether I’d tell him first. “He knows about you,” I said simply. “He thinks we’re…involved.”

Alex stopped chewing, and I wasn’t sure whether it was my choice of words, my hesitation, or being on Creighton Banks’ radar that caught his attention. “I’d concluded that on my own, based on your side of the conversation I overheard. Does that put me in his crosshairs as well?”

He said it so nonchalantly, so resigned to the idea that that’s exactly where he might be. Guilt curled in the pit of my stomach again. “He’s decided you mean something to me. From wherever he’s watching, Alex, he’s decided you’re of good use to him. Another pawn in his game. Another good way to make me suffer for what I did to him.”

“You think he’s going to kill me, just to spite you?” Again, no emotion, and the blankest of expressions.

“He said he would.” I felt tears welling up in my eyelids. “He said we’re both good as dead. God, I’m so sorry.”

A sob hit me just as Alex let his fork clang onto the plate and he slid over to my side of the couch, wrapping a protective arm around my shoulders. He tucked me into him. “Hey, it’s okay. What are you apologizing for? Jesus, he hasn’t killed me yet.”

I pulled back abruptly, wide-eyed and distraught.

“Sorry.” His thumb wiped the tears from my cheek, making me wince. “Bad joke.”

“It wasn’t funny.”

“No, it wasn’t, but sometimes the asshole in me just comes out before I have time to reel him back in.”

I laughed, despite the tears still streaming down my face, shaking my head. He could be so ridiculous. Frustrating enough one minute that I’d rather choke him than stare at him for another second, then so comical and protective and sweet the next that the butterflies in my stomach made me dizzy with their enthusiasm.

“God, I hate seeing you cry, Hailey. But I love that I can make you smile, even in the wake of it. You’re so damn strong.”

His words were but a breath of air against my cheek, but the weight of them as they pelted onto my heart—they may as well have been anvils.

“How do you do that?” I asked, my throat thick with emotion.

“Do what?” He went still beside me, waiting, watching.

“Comment on how strong I am, and make me so damn weak while you’re doing it.”

Alex bit the inside of his lip, finding humor in my choked confession, but he didn’t laugh. “There isn’t a damn thing weak about you, Hailey. I need you to remember that.” His gaze searched my face, and I realized a beat later that I was waiting with bated breath for him to kiss me.

He didn’t. And whatever he was looking for—probably some outward sign that my tears had let up—he must have found it, because his thumb trailed softly down my unbruised cheek, and he let me go, moving back into his original spot on the couch. “You’d better eat your dinner. You’ve barely touched it.”

Just like that, he resumed eating. Like he hadn’t just said what he said, and hadn’t just touched me as tenderly as he did.

The man was certifiably emotionally bipolar.

I knew better than to mention it, but whether it was the exasperation at trying to translate his feelings, or the need to feel like I had some sort of control over myself in his presence, the words passed my lips easily. “I need you to make sure you don’t lose your career over this, Alex. Over me.”

He answered me with a dramatic roll of his eyes, as if to say, Are we really going to do this again? “I already told you we’re not talking about this again.”

“You’re a good cop. And you need the department backing you during this.”

“They are, and they will. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. You live and breathe your job.”

“It’s my job, Hailey. Not my life.” The words came out hollow, and I’m not sure he believed what he was saying, either.

“I’m not sure you can have one without the other at this point.”

Alex arched a brow. “You’re either underestimating me, or overestimating your father,” he spat.

I let my fork clatter down onto the table. “You don’t get it, Alex. I came into your life, and I’m ruining it. What in God’s name are you going to do after I’m g—” My eyes grew wide, and I clamped my mouth shut, but the damage was done.

Alex’s eyes narrowed. “After you’re what?” he barked. “Gone? Is that what you were going to say?”

I swallowed hard. “It’s a very real possibility, Alex, and you know it.”

“Like hell it is.” He pushed his plate back on the table, standing up so fast I flinched at his sudden movement. “You honestly think I’m going to sit by and let Creighton fucking Banks kill you? Jesus Christ, Hailey. Not on my fucking watch.”

Sympathy seeped into my voice. “You’re only one man, Alex.”

“So is Creighton! He’s not invincible.”

“You can’t protect me,” I advised him gently, shaking my head. “I’m—”

“I can, and I will.”

“Alex!” My hands flew up, frustrated. I stood, leveling my gaze with his. “You can’t protect me, all right? I’m the daughter of a drug lord. One the police have been trying to catch for years, and one who still managed to kill many, many people during that timeframe! You’re going to have to excuse me if my faith is a little weak in the justice system.”

His fists were clenched tightly at his sides, and his eyes burned with the fiery rage that had ignited within him. His stillness unnerved me, rooting me in place. Then, silently, he shook his head, and when he spoke all the venom had leaked from his tone, leaving only hurt and despair. “I don’t give a fuck about how little faith you have in the justice system, Hailey. What I do care about, however, is how little faith you have in me.”

He turned away, leaving me standing in the living room alone. He disappeared into his bedroom, and the click of the door latch sounded like a bomb in the silence that remained.