"Not a problem, Mr. Gallagher."
The men shook hands and parted ways, Burke guiding me to the limousine parked at the curb. When he opened the back door, the faint scent of cigar smoke wafted out. Oddly, I found it comforting.
Burke sat beside me, but I wasn't having any of that. Instead, I climbed onto his lap and rested my head in the crook of his neck. Wrapping powerful arms around me, he never once slackened his hold as we rode through the silent streets of early morning.
The lights inside the house were ablaze when we pulled around to the garage. Maddie met us with a sleeping Finn, Caden standing right behind her.
"Are you okay?" Maddie asked, sniffling as she moved forward.
Without hesitation, I enveloped both my friend and my baby. "I am."
"We're going to get some sleep," Burke said to Caden. "You two need to be here bright and early to figure out who dropped the ball on Casper and who the fucking snitch is at The Algonquin Club."
"Logan's already sent out feelers. Hopefully, we'll have some answers by the time you wake up."
Maddie and I hugged for a few moments longer before I took Finn in my arms, inhaling his scent. Together, Burke and I ascended the stairs, heading to the nursery. Once inside the dimly lit room, I kissed my son before handing him to Burke.
"Is breá liom tú," he whispered to Finn before settling him in his crib.
Tears formed anew in my eyes. Despite all the words he'd said to me in Irish, Burke had yet to say the ones that mattered the most. After surviving our ordeal, all I wanted was to tell him how very much I loved him. I opened my mouth . . . but nothing came out.
"Ready for bed?" Burke whispered.
With a nod, I left the room to head down the hall with him. I needed a shower, but didn't think I had the energy to stand upright for another minute.
Burke seemed to sense how I was feeling. "How about a bath?"
All I could do was nod.
Burke turned the water on, holding his hand under it while I stripped off the pale blue sweatshirt bearing the police logo. My feet ached, but it was only a minimal comfort to remove my high heels. Burke turned, helping me pull the ruined dress over my head, kissing my nose and then standing there with the clothes in his hands.
"I . . ."
In expectation, I waited for him to finish his sentence, but he didn't. Instead, he left the bathroom, and I climbed into the tub. Sinking into hot water was a small glimpse of euphoria, and I dipped down until I could wet my hair. Drawing my knees up, I rested my head on them and stared into middle distance.
As long as I kept my eyes open, there was nothing in my head. No sound, no sight, no feeling of loss or terror. Just emptiness. The second I closed my eyes, however, the bullet wound I'd inflicted haunted me.
"You can do this," I told myself. "You can do anything."
I thought of high school Kinsley, the version of myself who Burke slept with, the Kinsley I was when I first moved into this house, and compared all of it to who I was right that moment. I was the one to take out the threat to the man I loved. Kinsley Gallagher was not Kinsley Hawthorne, not by a long shot. In the throes of disaster, I'd remained calm enough to pull Burke's gun and shoot our adversary in the face.
Despite my best efforts to the contrary, the image of the hole I'd created in Casper's head was burned into my retinas. I tried to focus on anything else; on my strength, on my success, on Burke, but it came crashing back to me, anyway. Finding myself sobbing alone in lukewarm water had not been in my plans for the day.
Things changed, though. Lifting my head, I wiped my face and straightened my spine. Killing a man was simply one more thing I had to grow accustomed to in my new life. If I were to remain by Burke's side as his counselor, I had to accept the dangers that came with the job. It was why I trained, why I took up kickboxing, why I could hit the target dead center now when the weight of a gun used to terrify me. Causing a man's death was horrific, but it was necessary in that instance.
By the time I pulled the drain and stepped out, Burke returned to the room with a thick towel and my nightgown.
"Can you bring me one of your t-shirts instead?"
After handing me the towel, he quirked a brow but ducked into the closet, emerging with a soft white tee.
"Thanks."
Something about the whisper of the cotton against my skin comforted me. The only thing missing was Burke's scent, so I moved closer and wrapped my arms around him.
"I should be the one thanking you," he mumbled.
"Please don't."
