I must have fallen asleep because when I awoke, with my neck and back aching and my ass numb, the sun was creeping through the smeared miserable excuse for a window at the top of my cell.
“I don’t give a fuck who you are, let her out before I call my dad and he speaks to your superior.”
My heart stalled, then thumped hard.
Hope.
“Ma’am,” someone said, “with all due respect, what exactly is your daddy gonna do?”
“Oh, Doug Clayton?” Hope laughed like a maniac. “That’s right, what’s Doug Clayton, the guy who used to miss my volleyball games and dance recitals every weekend just to run this cesspit, gonna do?”
Cursing was followed by, “I’ll get the keys.”
“Wait,” someone said. “Agent Carlson said to hold her until he comes back.”
“You mean to tell me that joke of a man locked her up, then went home to sleep in a motherfucking bed?”
Oh, shit.
The fact he probably did do that was the only reason I didn’t let the laughter that was sitting in my throat free.
“Give me my sister before I call a lawyer and my dad.”
A minute later, a young cop opened the gate, and Hope was hauling me to my feet, fury creasing her forehead and pinching her lips.
“How’d you know I was here?”
“Explanations later.” She shoved my purse at my chest. “Let’s go.”
Exhaustion and soreness made walking those first few steps excruciating, but as I passed the front desk attendant, who was talking quickly to who I guessed was Milo or their superior, it vanished, and I strode fast for the doors.
Hope removed her hand from mine to unlock her SUV and open the door. I climbed in and gave her directions to my apartment.
Five minutes later, we walked inside the stale, dust-covered one-bedroom home I’d barely lived in, and I nearly wept with relief. “I need a shower, stat.”
“Hang on a minute.” Hope shut and locked the door. “You need to explain what that asshole did to you.”
“Hope,” I whined. “Give me ten minutes, ’kay?” I needed the time to come up with some muddied version of the truth. She knew Milo was undercover, but she didn’t know he’d invaded my life to get closer to Thomas.
She huffed, stabbing a finger at me. “You have as long as it takes me to find some decent coffee and breakfast.”
I nodded, and she locked the door behind her.
I’d taken most of my clothes to my dad’s when I’d intended to stay there for the rest of summer, but I’d left behind a few pairs of jeans, some tanks and T-shirts, and a cocktail dress.
After brushing my teeth with a spare toothbrush I kept beneath the sink, I nabbed a pair of cotton panties, a bra that’d seen better days, then a tank and light denim jeans. In the shower, I scrubbed until I felt my skin burn beneath the hot water. I hadn’t left any shampoo, so I settled for wetting my hair and spraying some leave-in conditioner once I’d gotten out.
The tank was tight, too fitted, and the jeans scratchy and a pain in the ass to tug on. I’d just buttoned the fly when a light tapping sounded at the door.
My stomach roiled, and my hands shook, but I walked to the door, asking through the wood, “Who is it?”
“Your monster.”
I wrenched open the door, my eyes tingling as I took in the sight of Thomas in a crumpled white T-shirt and jeans. He looked behind him, then gazed back at me with bloodshot eyes. “Let me in?”
I nodded and stepped back, his boots heavy over the old hardwood floor.
As soon as I shut the door, he grabbed me and hauled me to his chest, hands tight against the back of my wet hair, and his chest heaving beneath my cheek. “I’ll kill him. I’ll cut open his chest and bring you his heart. I—”
“Shhh,” I laughed out, trying to gaze up at him, but he wouldn’t release his hold.
“I’m sorry, Little Dove. I wasn’t thinking straight. You have to know I would never be able to …” he trailed off, his lashes closing briefly over his bloodshot eyes.
Drawing in a long breath, I pushed away, and Hope opened the door, almost knocking us over as she barreled in with coffee cups and a large brown bag full of things that smelled incredible.
“Oh,” she said, her lips shaping around the word. She shut the door and looked Thomas up and down. “You must be the evil drug lord.”
I coughed. “What?”
She waved a hand and marched to the kitchen. “He called me and explained why your ex is being so crazy. That he was after Thomas because his family has ties to some drug trade.”
I arched a brow at Thomas, who lifted his shoulders.
Shaking my head, I thanked her for the coffee as I took a seat on a stool at the small bar.
Thomas strode forward, eyes on me as I looked away, then he pressed his front to my back. The weight and his warmth were comforting enough to ignore the pinching pain in my chest when I remembered the way he’d looked at me, accused me and forsaken me without a second thought yesterday.
“So, he called you?” I asked Hope, then took a long sip of coffee.
She shoved a clump of muffin into her mouth, chewing around it. “Uh-huh. Late last night. I drove until I couldn’t see straight, then stopped and refueled.” She laughed. “I couldn’t believe it; my baby sister ending up behind bars. Never ever would I dare to even imagine such a crazy idea,” she stopped, smirking, “but there you were. Asshole,” she added.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. I needed a mini vacay.” She grinned above my head at Thomas. “And it was worth it to meet this tall, dark, and apparently naughty, creature.”
Trust Hope to find the idea of a drug dealer sexy, I thought with a smile.
“You have a daughter?” she asked Thomas. “We should totally make sure our kids hang out, you know, considering they’re practically cousins.” She licked her finger and took a sip of coffee.
I tried not to choke as I lowered my to-go cup.
Thomas obviously had no qualms about humoring her. “I do; she’s almost seven.”
Hope’s eyes lit, dropping to me. “Perfect.”
Jesus. “Stop scaring him.”
Hope flicked her long, dark hair over her shoulder. “He doesn’t look scared to me.”
Thomas squeezed my shoulders reassuringly in response and continued to humor her as I dragged a muffin to my mouth and demolished it.
She left half an hour later, needing to get home before nightfall so Jace didn’t have a coronary looking after the boys on his own.
“She’s …” Thomas tapped his chin after the door slammed shut on Hope’s sashaying hips.
I headed to my room. “My opposite in every way.”
“I don’t think you’re as different as you think.”
I wanted to ask why he thought that, but my eyelids drooped alongside my heart as he took a seat next to where I was lying on my bed.
Thomas moved the blankets from the end of the bed to cover me, then sighed as he looked around my room. “You’re upset with me.” He looked down at me. “And rightfully so.”
The temptation to lie, to have him lay down next to me and make the past twenty-four hours disappear, was strong. “I am,” I admitted. “You don’t trust me or didn’t. I don’t even know.” I yawned. “I just need some space. Some sleep, probably, and then we can talk about it.”
Thomas stared a long moment, ice-bright eyes tugging at my resolve. Then he ran a hand through his unnaturally mussed hair, strands falling around his face.
“I don’t want to leave you. Can you be upset with me at home?”
Home. The way he’d said it made my lips and heart twitch. “I could be, but I’m not ready to yet.”
His brows furrowed. “You mean to say you’ll still be mad if I leave you, like you’ve asked, when you come home and we’ve talked about it?”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed, tears leaking out of my eyes. “Maybe. I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“For what? Why are you apologizing?” He scooted closer. “Explain. Are there stages of anger for women?”
Sitting up, I took his face, pressing my lips to his for as long as my heart could bear, then released him. “I know you were scared, and angry, but you hurt me.” His head lowered, lips seeking mine again, but I slumped back to the bed. “A lot worse than he ever did.” I let that sink in. “Do you understand?”
“Dove.” The name was a pained sound.
I did my best to ignore the harsh swallow he took. “Go home, Thomas.”
“Thomas?” With a frustrated groan, he stood. “Fine. But I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“I know,” I said.
He still stood there, his feet unmoving and his beautiful face creased with indecision.
“Time, Thomas.”
“Time.” He blew out a breath and nodded. “Okay.”
Yawning again, I watched him walk toward the door, the thread that tied me to him growing taut, urging to be gathered.
Thomas stopped, turning back. “Dove, I know you trust him to a certain extent, but a man like him clearly doesn’t do well with losing. And he’s lost a lot.” Pulling out a gun from his waistband, he set it on the dresser. “He’s spiraling. I know you know how to use it, so don’t hesitate to. It’d be in self-defense.”
I didn’t even blink at the weapon, just met his gaze, then let my eyelids flutter closed when the apartment door shut.
The sound of a gunshot had my eyes flashing open, and my legs hauling me across the room to the gun on the dresser as my heart pounded.
I flung open the apartment door, and seeing Thomas slumped against the wall on the landing below the first set of stairs, blood coloring his white shirt crimson, I didn’t think.
Clicking off the safety, I raised the gun at Milo, whose gun was still trained on Thomas, ready to pull the trigger again.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I called.
“Dove,” Thomas wheezed.
Milo’s eyes widened, swinging up at me. “Don’t be foolish, babe. Put it away.”
The metal was cool against my steady fingers, fear and anger slowing my breathing and clearing my vision as I pressed my finger against the trigger and shot him in the shoulder.