I collapsed onto his chest, boneless. He made a softoofbut didn’t push me off. One hand drifted up and down my spine in a lazy stroking motion that should’ve annoyed me, but didn’t.
“Okay?” he murmured into my hair.
I thought about lying. Habit. Defense.
“Yeah,” I said instead, quietly. “I’m okay.”
It felt like a confession.
We cleaned up in the clumsy, half-asleep way of two people whose legs didn’t want to work anymore. He tried to fuss; I swatted his hands away and did it myself. Then he grabbed a T-shirt for me that smelled like him, and I pretended not to care as I pulled it on.
When he slid back into bed, I hesitated. I could go. No one was chaining me here. I could be dressed and out the door in under a minute if I wanted.
“Stay,” he said, as if he could read my mind. He lifted the covers in invitation, not demand.
“This is a terrible idea,” I told him.
“Probably,” he agreed. “Stay anyway.”
I rolled my eyes, but my body was already moving. I lay on my side, back to him, as far from a cuddle as I could manage. The mattress dipped when he settled behind me. There was a moment where neither of us breathed, waiting to see what would happen. I pulled out my cell to check on my family, checked security at the house, and saw that all three were home, but I went through all the cameras anyway, in case one of them thought to slip out and leave their trackers behind.
Nope. They were all sleeping. Safe.
Levi’s hand landed on my hip. Light. Not holding but resting there, warm and solid.
“You’re okay,” he said into the dark.
I listened to his breathing even out, slow and steady, and let the weight of his hand keep me from drifting too far.
I lay there, staring at the shadows on his wall, and made myself a promise.
I was going to fix this.
The cartel. The organs. The people who thought they could carve up humans and sell them like car parts. The ones who’d turned my family into meat and thought they could do the same to anyone who got in their way.
I didn’t know how yet. Didn’t know who would have to die. Probably a lot of people. Maybe me.
But if I could stop it—if I could tear it all down and salt the earth—I could stop waking every day feeling like I was still fourteen and covered in someone else’s blood.
I could stop being afraid for Marisol and the twins.
For the first time in a long time, IthinkI wanted a later.
My eyes burned. I blinked hard until it passed. Eventually, the warmth and the steady rise and fall of Levi’s chest at my back dragged me under.
I fell asleep in a cop’s bed with his hand on my hip and the ghosts a little further away than usual.
Terrible idea.
Best one I’d had in years.
FIFTEEN
Levi
I woke up alone,the sheets still warm beside me, and for a long minute I stared at the empty space, wondering if I’d dreamed what happened last night. It had been different—too different—and the absence this morning hit harder than it should’ve. After that first time, we’d come together twice in the night, and fuck, Alejandro wasn’t only a blow-job genius—he was devastating. The kind of filthy, mind-scrambling skill that left my legs shaking and my brain wiped clean. And the kissing—Christ, the kissing. He kissed as if he wanted inside my chest, as if he was stripping me open with his mouth alone. It wasn’t heat alone; it was hunger, need, a dragging pull that sank its teeth into me before I realized what was happening.
And the worst part—the part that made my stomach twist—was that I was a cop.A detective.My colleagues spent my days hunting men like him. I should’ve been putting distance between us, building walls, remembering the badge sitting on my dresser. Instead, I’d wrapped my arms around him and begged for more.
