“Can I hold you?” Those four words shouldn’t be so hard to say, but I have to force each one out over the lump in my throat.
Tears glisten in her eyes. I’m terrified she’s going to say no until she rushes to me and wraps her arms around my waist.
“There’s so much I want to say to you, darlin’. But…”
Hope meets my gaze, and one of those tears spills over and trails down her cheek. “We have time, Wyatt. Just…don’t run away from me again.”
“I wasn’t running from you.” Catching the tear with my thumb, I dash it away. “I was running from myself. From my own feelings. I’m just so damn scared I’m going to hurt you and you’ll never trust me again.”
She cups the back of my neck and guides me until our foreheads touch. “Then promise me one thing. If you get scared again, tell me. Don’t run without telling me why.”
“That I can do.”
Lying in bed with Hope in my arms? It feels so right. Over dinner, I filled her in on what Ryker’s team is planning. She was quiet after that, only coming out of her shell for brief moments—mostly when Murphy demanded she throw his tennis ball or scratch behind his ears.
“What do you want, Wyatt?” she asks, her voice quiet. Small. Afraid. “After this is all over.”
With the blackout curtains drawn, it’s completely dark in the room, but when I relax my hold on her, she turns over so we’re face to face.
“I want to be with you, darlin'. But even more...I want you to be happy. If you need time alone to heal? I'll leave. Go back to my cabin and install a phone line so you can reach me any time. Day or night. Or I'll move into the unit next door so I'm close but not...here. Whatever you need from me, you’ll have. I promise.”
“You're too good to be true.” She trails her fingers over my chest, and I'm hard for her in less than ten seconds. “If I...died—if Wren and Ripper made Hope Raines disappear forever—would I have to find a new career? Be someone totally different? Could I ever contact my old friends? Or…try to reconcile with my mom?”
“We—Ryker’s team—are taking down the whole ring. Simon, all of his generals. And they’ll shut down the brothels too.” I brush a kiss to her forehead. “The grunts aren’t going to look for you. They’ll find some other asshole to work for and forget all about you—if they even knew about you in the first place. As long as you don’t plan on running for public office or becoming a movie star, you could still work in finance. And we could arrange a trip for you to talk to your mom. Might need to bring some extra security along, but…”
“I'll do it.” Snuggling closer, she drapes her arm over me. I can feel her tension melting away. “I want to be free.”
“You are free, darlin’. And I’m going to make damn sure you stay that way.”
17
Hope
“This is safe, right?” I ask. “Leaving the building?”
At the breakfast bar, Wyatt slides our tablets and a handful of granola bars into a messenger bag. “It’s safe, darlin’. I promise.”
“How can you be so sure?” Zipping up my soft purple hoodie, I stare at the leather holster clipped to Wyatt’s belt. I was fine until he pulled the gun from the safe. Now, my stomach is one big ball of nerves, and I can’t stop my hands from shaking.
“Because Ry’s bringing Wren.” With a smile, Wyatt snags his canvas jacket from the back of one of the bar stools and shrugs into it. “You saw the two of them together. If there was any risk, we’d probably hear them arguing from down here.”
“I got an earful when we were going over the files on the memory card. I guess she had an appointment for a pedicure the other day, and Ryker wouldn’t let her go alone. He sat in the chair next to her the whole time. Arms crossed, completely silent.”
Wyatt laughs, and it changes his face so completely, I’m mesmerized. My first day with him, his frown lines were etched so deep, they looked like they’d been carved in granite. In the past few days, he’s started to relax. Like maybe…he could be happy here.
“I’d pay to see that,” he says. “The man doesn’t own a single piece of clothing that isn’t black. I bet he glared at every single customer.”
His hand lingers on mine as he passes me a travel mug full of coffee. Every touch sends a little thrill through me. He’s so tender, but in some ways, I think he’s more possessive than Ryker.
The mug goes into the side pocket of my purse. Emotion clogs my throat, and I turn away. I didn’t realize how important something as simple as owning a purse—and a wallet—could be. I cried as I filled the bag with lipstick, a brand new clutch wallet, and my very own key card for our apartment.
Wrapping me in his embrace, Wyatt presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. “If you need a break today, if it’s too much at any time, if anyone triggers you, tell me. Okay?”
“I’ll be fine.” His brows furrow, and I swear he almost growls. “I have to be, Wyatt. Because this is how I get my life back.”
Half an hour later, Ryker parks in front of a large warehouse. It looks like any other industrial building in any other city—except for the rather odd mix of cars in the lot. And the woman carrying a road bike on her shoulder as she heads for a metal door directly in front of us.
“I pay her enough she could buy a car,” Ryker mutters as he helps Wren down from the front seat. The petite redhead braces a hand at the small of her back and stares up at him.
