“I won’t leave.” Turning in his embrace, I risk gazing into his deep blue eyes. I could get lost in them. In his arms. His kiss. “I don’t know what happens next, Ronan. With us, with the cartel…with any of it. But I want to find out.”
He cups my cheek, a fresh bandage wound around his palm. “I’m sorry I lost my temper. I should have trusted you. Can you forgive me?”
I nod, the words trapped in my throat. Thank God, Ronan understands what I need.
“I’ll leave you to wash off the day. When you’re done, we’ll have dinner and you can tell me what you learned, yeah?”
Leaning into his touch, I relish the tender brush of his thumb along my cheek. Of his scent, something woodsy and fresh with a hint of the sea. I want to ask him to join me. To hold me—naked—and let the hot water wash away everything that could keep us apart. But all I can manage is a whispered, “Okay.”
He leaves without a word, and when I’m alone, I turn the water as hot as I think I can stand and shed my bra and panties. The scars across my back stretch tight, and my muscles ache from so long sitting on the frigid ground. The blond wig was unbearably hot, but as soon as I tossed it in a dumpster, my soaking wet hair sapped most of the heat from my limbs.
The hot water starts to cool before I feel clean, and I wrap my body in a thick, forest green towel before opening my backpack and withdrawing a fresh pair of panties and bra. I need to get some new clothes if I’m going to be in Boston for more than a few days. But for tonight, I have one last clean pair of leggings and a flannel shirt.
And socks. Always a fresh pair of socks.
* * *
Ronan
Zephyr pads out of the bathroom with a ball of clothing under her arm. “Do you have a washer and dryer?”
In the middle of pouring two pints of Irish Death, I nod toward the closet doors in the hall. “You didn’t snoop around last night?”
“No!” Her indignant tone tugs at the corners of my lips. “I took a shower, found your bathrobe, and made myself a cup of tea. Imayhave perused your bookshelf and your fridge. Idefinitelycatalogued your entire DVD collection. I’ve missed a lot of movies the past four years.”
“Leave the laundry for later. You found the best pizza place in Boston. It would be a shame to let it get too cold.”
After she dumps her clothes into the washer, Zephyr joins me on the couch. “Do you eat all your meals here?” she asks.
“It’s only me. Seemed a waste to spend money on a separate table just for eatin’. Half the time, I’m not even home for dinner. You’re lucky I have matchin’ napkins.”
She chuckles, and the way her eyes light up when she laughs? It’s mesmerizing. “I don’t need matching napkins. Hell, having plates and hot food is a luxury. Don’t get me started on the beer.”
“Are you sayin’ somethin’s wrong with my beer?” I ask.
“The opposite.” Zephyr lifts the glass to her lips and takes a healthy swig. “Shit. I haven’t had a cold pint in forever.”
While we eat, I tell her about my conversations with Dax, then Trevor. “This is personal for Dax. He knew Yoden’s brother. But he’s not an idiot. Trev and Wren are lookin’ into the crime scene reports. They’ll figure out how the cartel framed you.”
“They don’t have to,” she says softly. “I can tell you everything.”
* * *
The pizzaand beer are long gone, the washer provides a calm, reassuringswish, swish, swishfrom the hall, and Zephyr, clad only in one of my t-shirts and panties pats the bed next to her. We turned some sort of corner in the bathroom once I’d seen her scars and practically begged her not to run, and I strip off my Henley and jeans, leaving me in just my boxers before joining her.
“Will you…shit. I’m not good at this.” She turns away from me onto her side, but casts a glance over her shoulder. “I’ve never told anyone what I’m about to tell you. And, I’m scared I won’t be able to get through it.”
Hold her, you idiot. She’s asking you to hold her.
Fitting my body to hers, I let her relax in my arms, trailing my fingers along her hip under the blanket. “I’m here, luv. Why don’t you start with why you left the cartel.”
Zephyr links her hand with mine. “After François got out of jail, he showed up at Alex’s doorstep and the two reconnected. Oliver was still living in the house, but I’d moved out a couple of months earlier. Martín convinced me it was time to get my own place, and I had enough money saved up, I didn’t need the family to pay for my everyday expenses.”
“How old were you?” Her hair tickles my nose as I press a kiss to the back of her neck.
“Twenty-six. The next couple of jobs…they were normal. We took down an oil magnate who was stealing from his employees’ retirement funds. Threatened to send the evidence to the authorities if he didn’t pay us ten percentandreturn everything he stole. Alex sent me on a job to recover some art stolen from the Sámi people—I had to break in to the Finnish Museum of Antiquities over a holiday weekend and steal a collection of tools and a couple of pieces of jewelry.” She smiles, twisting slightly to meet my gaze. “Hacking into security systems and disabling laser grids? It doesn’t get much better than that.”
“I think Wren would love you. The two of you together? Unstoppable.”
