“I know that too.”
For a beat, the tension hangs between us, thick and hot and aching. Every part of me wants to hold her, to take away the hurt, to let her cling to me until her world stops spinning.
But that wouldn’t be comforting her.
That’d be me crossing a line I can’t uncross.
I exhale, slow and steady. “Get some rest. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Her eyebrows pinch. “You don’t have to babysit me.”
“Yes,” I say, heading for the doorway, “I do.”
I pause, hand on the frame, fighting the urge to turn back.
“Lolo, I’m not going anywhere. But I’m not letting you tear yourself apart with something you’ll regret later.”
She looks down at her hands. Small, and quiet. “Goodnight, Malcolm.”
I nod once. “Night.”
Stepping out, I close the door behind me, and lean against it, dragging a hand over my face. My pulse is still kicked up, my body’s still on edge, and her kiss is still burning on my mouth.
Putting space between us was the right move. Didn’t make it easy. But if anything ever happens with her, I want it to be real… not because I was standing close when everything fell apart.
But, fuck. That kiss. The way her lips felt… soft, desperate, tasting like salt and tears. It’s burned into me. I can still feel her mouth against mine, the way she leaned in like I’m the only one that could ease her pain.
I tell myself it was grief talking. That she didn’t mean it. But the truth is, if she kissed me again, I don’t know if I’d be able to resist.
Right now, she needs comfort, not chaos. She needs someone to hold her together, not feed her brokenness.
But the longer I sit here, the more I know… I’m already in too deep.
The crackof a gunshot jolts me awake. My heart slams against my ribs. I’m off the couch in seconds, grabbing my piece from the coffee table.
Another shot erupts outside. I move fast, slip to the window, and catch the street in chaos…one cop down on the pavement, blood spreading beneath him, another is crouched behind his cruiser firing back at a car speeding off with its windows down.
I curse under my breath. This isn’t random. It has to be the cartel.
Sprinting to the bedroom, I shove the door open. “Lolo, move. Now!”
She’s already up, pale but focused. No questions. She goes straight to the safe, grabs her gun, yanks on clothes, and shoves essentials… ammo, badge, and whatever else she needs, into a small bag.
When she snatches her phone off the table, I shake my head hard. “Leave it. If they’re tracking you, I’m not giving them a breadcrumb. Turbo can rip what you need off it later.”
Before she can argue, more gunfire erupts, sharp, vicious, and too close. The living room windows blow apart setting my nerves on fire. We bolt through the kitchen, shove out the back door and cut across the yards, crouching low as rounds explode in the distance. My pulse pounds in my ears, but all I’m thinking about is distance… putting as much of it as possible between her and whoever the hell is coming.
We don’t stop until we reach my bike.
She climbs on behind me, arms tight around my waist. Gunning the throttle, I tear us out of there as sirens fade into the distance.
The ride stretches, heavier with every mile. If I hadn’t been there, would she have gotten out? I hate that I’m even asking myself that. Gripping the handle bars harder, I force my head back into the game. No room for what-ifs. Not with what’s waiting for me. And when the clubhouse comes into view, I already know I’m walking into a storm.
Inside, Mav’s at the bar, eyes sharp, jaw already tight. The second he sees Londyn behind me, his expression hardens.
His stare is pure ice. “You brought her here without checking in first?” His voice is low and dangerous. “You don’t drag cops into my house, Night. Not without my say.”
“Look, she needs our help. Cartel wants her dead, and her precinct’s got a rat. You know damn well she can’t fight this alone,” I say, standing my ground.
