“It’s good that you’re trying. Family is important.” I smooth back her hair, rivulets of the warm water cascading down her face from my wet fingers. “My mom used to tell us that our inner circle should be made up of people who understood love was an action, not just a feeling. But that it was okay to let the outer circle be composed of people who loved us, but didn’t or couldn’t love us well. Because, sometimes, we can’t help but hold on. That’s when you really need the inner circle. They’re your shield.”
She lifts her chin, her brows knitting together as her breathtaking eyes frolic all over my face. “That’s … deep. I don’t really have …”
I expected that response, whether she fully disclosed it or not. I inadvertently isolated her when I made her return to work. She’s been closed off to everyone since. Almost everyone.
“You have Mercy.”
She reins in a smile, but belonging is written in the plumpness of her cheeks. “That’s not really a circle, but she’s worth about a hundred ordinary people, so …”
“Exactly, and you have—”
“Maddox, stop.” There’s a chill to her demand that I now recognize to be Tessa’s armor. “When you gave me the knife and started escorting me everywhere, that was because you’d discovered something about Niko Makarov, not because you wanted to get to know me.”
She’s testing me, trying to sift out the authenticity in what’s happening between us. Fair.
“Yes, and no,” I confess, scratching up and down her spine. “I heard Dimitri Makarov was investigating his missing son again, which is why I decided to keep better tabs on you. But when I told you I wanted us to get to know each other, I meant it. More than I even realized.”
Her jaw clenches in disbelief, and her hands fly out to her sides, spritzing both of us in the process. “So you decided a few weeks ago that you—”
“Not a few weeks ago.” I spin us so one of the jets massages her back, and she arches into it like a cat while I pepper kisses over her collarbone and throat. “The night Mercy came here.”
“What do you mean?”
My hands wander, slicing through the water to deliver the nips and pinches she craves as I divulge when things changed for me. She’s been the first face I search for on my security cameras ever since.
“The night Mercy arrived here, I was sick to my stomach. Happy for Ryker. Thrilled to have her and Remy back. But I felt helpless. She was nervous. Cash and I took her to the Underground to give her some breathing room, but we were busy. When I was onstage, I noticed how people glanced at her but pretended they weren’t really looking. No one approached her. Probably at a loss for what to say to a person who’d been through the trauma she had. She’s strong, but the vision of her alone made her pain seem so overpowering. You scanned theroom, picking up the same vibe. Then you grabbed a drink, took the seat beside her, and became the friend she needed.”
“People are stupid,” she says in that disgruntled manner of hers.
“They can be,” I agree with a peck on her nose beside the amethyst jewel adorning it. “I’ve always noticed you, Tess. You’re so damn gorgeous. How could I not? And the night I came to help you, I was impressed by your fierceness and felt something beyond attraction. But that moment with Mercy was when I knew I was in trouble.”
Her breath catches, and for a long minute, she simply drinks me in. “In trouble because?”
“Because you hated me, and while I found that kind of hot, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. This isn’t quick for me. I can tell you feel it, too, and maybe you’re confused because it came out of nowhere. It didn’t for me. You’ve been under my skin for years. I’m just ready to do something about it.”
She turns her face from me, erecting her walls before my eyes. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Tell me what we’re dealing with as far as Makarov.”
I clasp her chin so she can’t ignore my vow. “For you? Nothing. And we’re going to keep it that way. They claim they have a witness, but everything the witness is reporting points to me.”
“Maddox,” she gasps, her eyes wide with terror.
“It’s fine,” I assure her, hating the fear shrouding her but comforted that she cares. “I’ll figure it out.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, elevating her heavy teardrop tits above the waterline. “How?”
“Find the witness.”
“And?” she presses.
“Eliminate them,” I tell her honestly.
“Are you serious?”
“Yep.” I sport my most diabolical grin. “No one likes a snitch.”
“What if it’s a ninety-year-old lady who was just taking her trash out and is merely telling these terrifying men what she saw?”
“It’s not, but if it is, that’s a best-case scenario. She’d be slower, easier to catch, and her life is almost over anyway, so …”
