Chapter Two

Braxton

 

“You did well today.” The stress knot in my neck is tight enough to choke me. I’d made it this far, alive. We’re both alive. Six weeks ago, it didn’t seem possible that we’d ever see each other again. But here we are, facing each other, against all odds.

My fingers itch to pull her close and stroke her slim back, caressing her until her shoulders stop shaking, until the tears stop falling.

I can’t.

And she knows exactly why.

The air between us crackles with an electricity I haven’t felt since I first laid eyes on her; one I couldn’t ignore, much as I’d tried. Much as we’d both tried.

My fists are tight against my sides. Six weeks ago, we were ready to start our new lives together, to leave the past and all its ugliness securely behind us. Her naiveté was excusable, but mine? Pure fucking idiocy. I’d known I was a lifer from the first time I pulled that goddamned trigger. They had me, and shit, I had nothing else, so why not?

I knew I’d never get out.

They knew they had me.

Until they lost me.

But that’s the thing about this life. You’re never lost for too long. Sooner or later, they will find you. And they’ll either kill you no questions asked, or you’ll do the job and then they’ll kill you, no reason required.

I maintain my distance, forcing my hand off her shoulder after allowing my fingers a brief second to tingle while pressing into her bare skin. It’s a stupid ass move, one that will get my balls stuck in a vise if anyone is watching. And it’s safe to assume they always are.

Loren swipes at her eyes, deep blue pools hidden under black sunglasses. I can see that her normally pale cheeks are stained pink. I’m the reason for that, and it kills me not to be able to wrap my arms around her petite frame and nuzzle her ear, whispering promises of the forever that may never come.

I’m a realist.

“Oh my God, Brax. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you this morning at the coffee house. I’ve been going crazy, waiting to see you, to make sure you’re okay.” Tears stream from behind the oversize glasses. “And you’re really here. Safe. Alive.” Her body trembles and she hugs herself. At least she can comfort herself, since I can’t do the job. “Are we…are we ever going to be safe again?”

As if we ever really were. I’d have given my pathetic excuse for a life in a hot second if it meant keeping her safe, and if shit had gone down differently, that’s exactly what would have happened. But for the first time, luck was on my side. Six weeks later, I have to ask myself if it really was luck, or if it was karma back to bite me on the ass and punish me for all the wrongs I’d committed without a modicum of remorse or regret.

But I can’t tell her any of this. I have a gut feeling that twists my stomach into a pretzel, and dammit, I’ll die trying to make sure it doesn’t come to fruition. “I love you, Loren. That’s all you need to know. I’ll do anything and everything to keep you safe.”

I’m a fucking liar. A deadpan, look-me-in-the-eyes-when-you-speak, kind of liar.

She bites her lower lip, her head twisting left and right before facing off with me again. “I was so s-scared, Brax. I didn’t think…that you’d…” Her voice quivers.

“Hey,” I murmur. “I’m here. That’s all that matters. You still have the money, right? Hidden well?”

She nods. “Yes.”

“And the apartment?”

“It’s fine. It seems safe.”

“Good.”

She tugs her short blonde ponytail. “When is this going to end? I need you, Brax. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. When can we go to the FBI? Can’t they help? If you agree to cooperate—“

“Lor, you know the deal. No feds. You have to trust that I’ll take care of things my way. Otherwise, we’ll never be free.” I rub the back of my neck. We’ve already been standing here too long.

“Okay,” she whispers.

“Back away,” I mutter. “You need to go. Now.”

“When will I see—?“

“Just go. I love you, Lor. Be careful.”

She reaches out a hand, and I back away the slightest bit. Her eyes are sorrow-filled as she slowly drops it to her side. Much as it kills me, I have to let her go. Any physical contact could prove to be deadly. Loren pulls down the beak of her baseball cap and sticks her hands into the pockets of her shorts, looking as deflated as I feel. Without another word or look, she heads back toward Hudson Street. I sink onto the hard wooden bench and watch her figure shrinking with each step toward the road.

If they’d have taken a knife to my throat, I doubt it would hurt as much as sending away the woman I love, the only one I’ll ever love again. She disappears into a cab. The shaky breath that escapes my lips is as conflicted as I am.