Alex watched as the shock registered on Cam’s face.

He didn’t blame her.

It would be unbelievable to him, too, if he hadn’t lived through it. But he knew it hadn’t been a dream or a misunderstanding; the bruised ribs and split lip and almost-concussion were testament to that.

Sarge had been perfectly clear. Fall in line or pay the price.

He’d left Alex in the middle of the road, doubled over, fully expecting him to come groveling back to him, meek and subservient. He’d thought Alex would just do what he was told, and to hell with protocol and honor and everything else he’d sworn to uphold and protect when he’d graduated the academy.

Sarge had expected compliance.

He didn’t know what Alex had lived through.

What he was capable of.

“How…how did you leave?” Cam asked.

Alex looked up from studying his hands. “Necco.”

“Necco?”

Necco’s face flashed in his mind and it made him smile. “I didn’t know he was there. None of us did.”

“Who is he?”

“A kid. Not a full member, but a wannabe.” His smile turned to a frown. “Good kid, just determined to run with the wrong crowd, you know?”

Something in Cam’s expression changed and he knew what she was thinking. Juan. His brother. As much as he loved drawing, he loved his older brother more. And Juan had tried desperately to follow in his brother’s footsteps.

It was one more thing Alex didn’t know that he’d ever be able to forgive himself for.

“So he was there?” she asked.

Alex nodded. “He waited to come out. Was hiding in the alley.”

“What did he do?”

“He saved my life,” Alex said simply.

It wasn’t an exaggeration. As he lay there sprawled out on that deserted road, Alex knew there were three possible scenarios that could play out, all of them ending badly. He could see his gang coming back, ready to confront him over his deception. Equally possible was Groupo 55 coming back to finish what they started. And he had no doubt Sarge would come back to get his final answer…and when Alex said no, he could finish him off, too. It wasn’t something Alex ever would have considered as a possibility, but the viciousness with which Sarge attacked him, and the way the rest of the unit had fallen in lock step behind him, not once voicing concern over the fact that he was beating the shit out of Alex, had sent an icy chill through his body.

“How?” Cam asked. “How did he save your life?”

“He got me out of there,” Alex told her. “I guess he saw the writing on the wall for me, knew things might go bad, so he called an Uber. Handed me a wad of cash—I have no idea where he got it from—and shoved me in the car and told me to get the hell out of Bentley. Find a place to lie low for a while. And to not come back.”

Cam was quiet, seemingly lost in thought. He wondered what parts of what he’d just told her she was focusing on. He wondered if she believed him.

He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. Hell, he still had a hard time piecing together the events of that night. He’d replayed it at least a hundred times, watching all of it as if it were a slow-motion movie in his mind, and it still caused him a moment’s pause. The screwed-up drug deal, he could buy. Things went wrong all the time, especially when contested turf was part of the equation. It was one of those variables he’d think about; in fact, he’d run through all kinds of potential responses to just that situation.

What he hadn’t anticipated was having the sergeant in charge of the operation lose his shit and kill two people, then try to spin a story that completely absolved his unit of any blame. And then, when one of his officers refused to agree to tell that version of events, beat him to a bloody pulp and threaten more bodily harm if he didn’t get on board.

“I didn’t know,” Cam finally said, her voice a little hoarse.

Alex stole a quick glance at her. She was staring at the empty glass she was holding.

“How could you?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she murmured. “I just… I should have known.”

Alex knew where her mind was going. She was a detective; it was her job to track down clues, to figure things out. Even with as little as he’d given her to work with, she was probably berating herself for not putting together more of the story.

“No one knew,” he told her. “You’re…” He swallowed. “You’re the first person I’ve told.”

She looked up. “About the drug bust?”

“No,” he said quietly. “About everything.”

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“No one knows what I do,” he said. “I haven’t told anyone.”

“No one?” she repeated, her eyebrows arching.

He shook his head.

“How is that even possible?”

“Who is there to tell?” he countered. “My brother’s dead. You were gone. I left all my so-called friends behind when I left the city.” The last sentence was like acid on his tongue.

“What about Mrs. K? Her brother?”

“I could have told them,” he admitted. “But I knew they would be concerned. I didn’t want that for them. I didn’t want to be a burden to them, to have them worry.”

It was the truth. Doug had become like a father figure to him, and Bev was like his own personal benefactress—minus the money, of course. They’d come to his graduation at the academy, and they’d celebrated his job offer with the Bentley police department. He hadn’t kept those things from them. But as far as they were concerned, he worked in the internal affairs department. A desk job.

“So you’ve been alone all this time,” Cam said.

It wasn’t a question; it was a statement. But still, Alex nodded.

“Who would I drag into this life?” His laugh was harsh. “This is for me. My way of making amends for all the things I fucked up when I was younger. I did it for Juan. For the friends back in the city who lost their lives to gangs, either dying or ending up rotting away in prison. And—” He cut off abruptly.

Another name had been on the tip of his tongue.

He’d swallowed it down just in time.

Hers.

If she noticed him cutting off his words, she hid it well.

Instead, she traced her finger around the rim of her empty glass, seemingly lost in thought.

“Well, you’re not alone now,” she finally said.

“Cam—”

“Now that I know—”

“No.” His tone was forceful.

Shit. He should have known this was how Cam would react.

She’d want to jump in headfirst. That was how she’d always been; why would he expect her to behave differently now?

His insides twisted. As good as it felt to be able to confide in someone—no, not someone…Cam—it also ignited a new flurry of worries. The list was growing. He was worried about Necco and his safety. He was worried about the cops in the unit, and if they were going along willingly with Sarge’s decision or if they’d been compromised in some way, something that had put them in danger, too.

And he was worried about Cam.

About her safety, of course. That had been his main concern the minute he’d realized his decision to come to Aspen Falls had been a reckless, foolish one.

But now he was worried about the lengths she might go to in order to solve this case.

Because she was Cam, but she was also a cop.

First and foremost, she was a cop.

He could easily see her involving her department, or at the very least involving this Nate guy, and that could put Alex at risk. Hell, it could put all of them at risk.

He turned his attention to her. Her eyes were locked on him, her brow furrowed, her mouth taut.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

Did he run down the list? Did he spell out all the thoughts racing through his mind?

He decided to stick with the easiest.

The one that held the most truth.

“I’m thinking that I don’t want to hurt you.”

She blinked, the bluntness of his response clearly catching her off guard.

She cleared her throat. “I can take care of myself.”

Alex gazed at the beautiful, proud woman staring almost defiantly at him, as if she were daring him to challenge her assertion.

He sucked in a breath, trying to quell the feelings rising inside of him. Admiration, tenderness, desire all stirred, threatening to create a potion so powerful that it might be his undoing.

“I’m sure you can,” he murmured.

Her eyes narrowed and she leaned forward. Her leg touched his, and even though two layers of fabric served as a barrier between them, it was like a red-hot poker had just singed his skin.

She smiled. “And I can take care of you, too.”