AN HOURor so before dawn, Carson pulled in front of our building and put the SUV in park. The ride had been quiet. He knew I was mad at him for not letting me help, and being Carson, he completely ignored my sulking.
“Here you are, kiddies. Home, safe and sound. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he said, chuckling.
Lynx stirred in my lap. I brushed the matted hair from her face, and she opened her eyes. She’d conked out as soon as we hit the Alley and hadn’t moved since, probably the shock and adrenaline wearing off. Unfortunately for me, I was still pissed off and half-cocked to kill someone.
I tamped down my agitation and ran a hand over her cheek. “Babe, we’re home.”
She cleared her throat and sat up, staring outside the window, and nodded.
Carson, being increasingly more annoying, came around and opened the door like a limo driver.
“Madame,” he said, holding his hand out for Lynx. When she climbed out, he pulled her into a giant hug. “It’s all going to be okay, honey. It’s over now. Lila is going to call you in the morning so you can chat. She went through something similar, and look at her now. It’s all good in front of you.”
Lynx practically fell into Carson at his words, her forehead braced on his shoulder, her hand digging into his arm. It was hard not to be seething with jealousy, but I reminded myself that Carson was family. At the end of the day, he was right—Lila had been through something similar, and now she was all good.
Carson finally let go of Lynx and sent her my way. “Mike, take care of your lady.”
Thank fuck.
She came eagerly into my embrace, plowing her face into my chest. And that’s how we walked into the building, Lynx leaning into me, her face on my shoulder.
Mine.
Upstairs inside our place, I gently braced her against the wall and placed a kiss on her cheek, her forehead, her other cheek, and everywhere else. All over her face and jaw and neck, I placed gentle and chaste kisses filled with promise.
“Michael, thank you,” she whispered.
“I didn’t do anything. It was all Landon and Carson.”
“Babe.” Her hand smoothed over my shoulder and down my forearm. “Without thinking of you, knowing you’d come, believing in us, I never would’ve made it through that. Never.”
I can live with that.
“I love you,” I told her.
“Love you back. So, so much,” she said, breathing life into my soul.
Still holding her, I asked, “Are you hungry?” We’d had bottled water in the car, and Lynx had managed to eat a banana.
She shook her head. “I want to get out of these clothes.”
“No problem. Don’t look at this mess. I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
Lifting her off the floor and cradling her in my arms, I carried her to the spare bathroom. Once I set her on her feet on the heated tile floor, she kicked off her shoes and I stripped her of her clothes.
“Garbage,” she mumbled, and I tossed them toward the trash can. I’d take them out later.
Turning on the shower, I checked the water temperature and lifted Lynx in. Quickly getting rid of my own clothes and shoes, I joined her underneath the spray.
I took the lilac-scented soap Lynx loved and lathered every inch of her soft skin, water continuing to rain down on us. She tilted her head back and shampooed and rinsed her hair. I added some conditioner like I’d seen her do so many times, and combed it out, holding her close the entire time.
My entire life was inside the shower. The club, the hotel, the Tunnel gang ... they were all important ... but nothing like Lynx.
When she was done with her hair, I looked into her eyes, telling her without words what had just crossed my mind. She knew—I could tell she knew—but I said it anyway.
“There’s nothing more important than you, Lynx. Nothing.”
“Back at you, Big Mike,” she murmured into my mouth, capturing my lips in hers, our tongues making love and our lower halves searching for friction.
