I chuckle on my way back out to the SUV. She’s angry with me—or frustrated at least—but there’s still affection in her tone, and most importantly, she’s safe. As safe as I can make her.
Five minutes later, the door’s locked, luggage upstairs, and I grab two glasses of water, plates, and napkins from her kitchen before I join her on the couch.
“Sorry I don’t have beer,” she says as she lifts the lid on the pizza box. “Or anything stronger.”
“Sweetheart, all I need is you.”
“Liar.” She nudges my shoulder with hers.
I set the plate down and turn to her. “Mik, I’ll never lie to you. Most of what I’ve done for the past twenty plus years falls under Top Secret clearance. You might ask me questions Ican’tanswer. But I won’t lie to you. Ever.”
“That sounds like a line.”
My laugh feels good, and some of the tension in my shoulders eases. “Is it working?”
“Maybe. Though you do realize I’m going to sleep with you tonight anyway, right?”
Oh, fuck.
There’s nothing I want more than to be with her. I’m half tempted to carry her upstairs this second, but she turns her focus to the pizza, and moans through her first bite. “I missed pizza.”
“The first time we met, I had you pegged as a vegetarian.”
Now it’s her turn to laugh, and it does something to my gut I’m not prepared for. Stirs an emotion I didn’t think I could feel and don’t want to acknowledge. Not yet. Because if I’m right…
“Austin? Where’d you go?” she asks, smiling up at me.
“You’re even more beautiful when you laugh, Mik.” Skimming a knuckle down her cheek, I lean in for a decidedly pepperoni-flavored kiss. “But I missed something. What were you saying?”
“Just that my parents raised me to eat everything. Well, almost everything. No sushi. I draw the line at raw fish.” Her nose wrinkles, and she dives back in for another bite, then licks her lips, and damn. The next hour or two—or however long she wants to wait to go upstairs—are going to be the longest of my life.
Forcing myself back to the present, I snag myself a second slice. “No raw fish. Got it. So what’s the nicest restaurant in Edgewater? That’s not sushi.” I settle back with my plate and stretch my legs out under the coffee table.
Narrowing her eyes at me, Mik replies, “The Wharf Rider. Why?”
“Because I’d like to take you there for dinner tomorrow night. If that’s okay with you.” Her eyes widen, and I offer her a smile. “I still owe you a proper date.”
“Austin, I don’t need…proper.” She exhales slowly and sets her plate down. “You have agun. You felt the need to—what’s the term? Clear my house?—before you let me come in. If ‘proper’ is going to put us in danger or mean you have to be armed and constantly on watch, then we should just stay here. Get takeout. I’d offer to cook, but my skills are pretty limited. Mac and cheese, soup out of a can, and some traditional Syrian dishes that don’t always…go over well.”
She’s so open and unabashedly pragmatic. As if nothing affects her now that we’re in her home, in a place she feels safe. “I don’t know if we’re in danger. Ifyou’rein danger. Anytime we go out, anywhere, whether it’s to the grocery store, get take-out, or refill your prescriptions, Ronan will be close by. I won’t have to be ‘on watch’ the whole time. But I’m also not going to take any chances.”
With a sigh, she deflates and stares down at her pizza. “I wish we could be…normal.”
“Normal?” Nudging her chin up so I can hold her gaze, I take a deep breath. “Mik, five years ago—almost six now—my brother decided to commit treason. He was on the CIA and JSOC’s most wanted list, and he knew it. So he set a trap in Venezuela, captured me, and tortured me for almost a week. The CIA sent Trevor, and he had to put a bullet in Gil’s head. So normal? It flew right out the window a long time ago.”
“Oh my God.” Mik sets her plate down and scoots closer to me. “Austin.”
“You wanted to know the darkness inside me. I killed my brother. I wasn’t the one to pull the trigger, but he died because of me.” No longer hungry, I dump my remaining slice back in the box and reach for the glass of water.
Mik rests her hand on my thigh, and shit. I can’t decide if I want to hold her or run away. Both, at the same time. “Will you tell me the whole story? Beginning to end?”
There’s so much. All of my failings. Every time Gil came to me and asked me to help him find his birth father. Every time he told me he just didn’t feel complete. That he wanted to know where he came from. Every time he walked away angrier than the last. “Don’t ask me that.”
“Why not? Because you’re afraid?” Mik’s close enough now, I can feel her warmth. The tension in her body. And her understanding. “You don’t have to be afraid with me.”
Clearing my throat, I take her hands. “This past week…it’s been the best and worst of my life.”
Mik arches a brow. “You’re not the one who was thrown off a mountain. I think I cornered the market on bad weeks.”
