As the call disconnects, I pray I’m right.
Chapter Twelve
Trevor
Daniand I finish our meal in silence. I don’t know what to say to make things better. To reassure her that I’ll protect her, that I won’t let anything happen to her.
Because I can’t make that promise. We’re only two people against a dictatorship that could easily make both of us disappear forever. I can’t tell her that I lied to Ford—for her benefitandhis.
We’re not safe here.
“So what happens now?” she asks as she polishes off her beer and then cracks the seal on the bottle of water. “We take turns on watch or something?”
A chuckle threatens to escape at the idea of Dani patrolling the hotel room while I sleep. “No. You rest, work on your article, or just watch TV.Ikeep watch. And wait to hear from Ford.”
“Trevor, I’m not a child.” There’s a petulance to her tone I remember well from high school. “Tell me what’s going on. What’sreallygoing on. One minute we’re kissing, and the next…you close yourself off and go all ‘Liam Neeson I have a particular set of skills’ on me.
“You hired me—“
Dani’s growl of frustration shouldn’t send heat shooting straight to my dick. Or make me wonder what she’d sound like if I planted myself between her thighs and tasted her.
“You’re fired,” she says as she stalks over to me and arches those perfect, dark brows. “That excuse is no longer valid. Try again.”
I can’t find the words to explain the reasons I’m still heavily armed, locked in a Venezuelan hotel room with a woman I’m pretty sure I’ve loved since high school, andnottearing her clothes off. Because they don’t exist. I should be worshipping her body right now, not listening for footsteps out in the hall or checking my phone every five minutes hoping for a message from Ford.
“I’m right here, Trevor. Waiting. Like I’ve been waiting since that night you…the night I wanted…shit.” Swallowing hard, she lifts the hem of her shirt to reveal her tattoo. “Do you know what this is?”
My mouth goes dry, and I reach for the bottle of water and take a long swig. “Yeah. Your true north.”
“Do you know where the coordinates lead?” Her voice is softer now. Almost hopeful. How can I tell her we can’t do this here? For over a decade, we’ve avoided this conversation, because once we have it, there’s no going back.
“The summit of East Rock,” I whisper. Dani’s eyes widen, and I trace the compass rose with my thumb. “Couldn’t sleep last night. Looked it up.”
“When did you—?“ Her cheeks tinge a dusky rose, and she clears her throat. “Oh, God. Sports bra. Tiny shorts.”
“Also known as Hell,” I mutter.
“Excuse me?” Anger replaces her embarrassment, and this time, I can’t control my laughter. “Trevor, I have worked damn hard at the gym every single—“
She falls silent when I run my hands down her sides to her hips and then curve my fingers over her ass. “Dani, you’re gorgeous. You’vealwaysbeen gorgeous. There is no size or shape you could ever be that I wouldn’t want. That’s why this is hell.”
“I don’t understand. You walked away. All those years ago, you didn’t want anything to do with me. You never showed up.” The confident, take-no-shit reporter is gone, and in her place is a woman I fear I made doubt her own worth.
I want to hit something. Go find a punching bag and beat the shit out of it. Or even better…find someone to beat the shit out ofmefor ever giving her that impression. “I was scared, baby. Fuck that. I was terrified.” I lead her over to the bed and pull her down so we’re sitting hip to hip.
With her hand in mine, I stare at our linked fingers. “Gil and Austin were my best friends. Both of them were overprotective as fuck where you were concerned.”
“Like you were any different,” she scoffs.
“No, I wasn’t. Gil and I…we got into more than one fight over him ghosting you.”
“You never told me that.” She peers up at me like I just gave her the world, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to go on without shattering that hope, that light.
Smoothing a lock of hair behind her ear, I frown. “I never told you a lot of things, Dani. And that wasn’t right. Hell, Austin doesn’t even know everything.”
She shoves at me—gently, but still with displeasure. “We’re family…”
“No.” That word…it stings. Even though I’ve come to think of Second Sight as my family, that took almost losing them to accept. Standing, I start to pace the room. “You and Austin and Gil were a family. I was always the poor foster kid who inserted himself into your lives because he didn’t have anyone else.”
