His attention shifted to the entrance of the bar. “Speaking of which, some guy just walked in. I’m guessing he’s your boyfriend since he’s looking at me like he’d like to hit me and throw me in the trunk of his car for dancing with you. Should I be concerned for my life?”
I turned to see Nick casually reading the room as he made his way to Sam and Georgia’s table. Our eyes caught, something softening in them as Sam leaned in, probably explaining to him that this was Vero’s mysterious boyfriend and not some stranger I’d just met in the bar. I patted Javi’s chest. “I think you’re safe.”
Vero swooped in, thrusting an arm between us. “Your boyfriend’s back. Time for you to do some damage control. I’ll keep an eye on this one,” she said, nudging me aside with her hip.
I thanked Javi for the dance and found Nick sitting alone, resting his elbows on the bar. I slid onto the empty stool beside him. The bartender wiped the counter in front of us, moving aside the wedding certificate and cheap gauzy veil that the betrothed couple must have abandoned during their fight. When he was finished, Nick ordered a whisky, neat.
“Long day?” I asked.
A weary smile spread over his face as he took me in. “You could say that.”
“No luck in Newark?”
He shook his head. “Zhirov wasn’t on the flight. Was never supposed to be on the flight. Seems like someone was having a little fun at the expense of the FCPD.”
I hated that I knew that someone was Cam, but mostly, I hated that I couldn’t confess that to Nick. “I’m sorry.”
He glanced up, offering a quiet “thanks” as the bartender slid a glass toward him.
“What now?” I asked.
He took a sip, contemplating that. “You were right. I needed some distance from all this.”
“Did I say that?”
He shook his head. “You didn’t have to. Zhirov’s still in Brazil, I’ve gotten nowhere with Grindley’s case, and I’m way outside my jurisdiction here. It feels like I’m chasing my tail, and, if I’m being honest, the only reason I even came to New Jersey is because I was worried about you.” He turned toward me, taking the collar of my sweatshirt gently in his hands and resting his forehead on mine. “Tell me you’re coming home with me tomorrow. Because I’m exhausted, and I could really use some sleep.”
He smelled like warm skin and rye and faintly of his aftershave, even this late at night, though his jaw was dark with stubble. I wanted to tell him yes, that I would go home with him tomorrow, but more than that, I wanted to take the advice I had just given to Javi. To trust Nick and me to be adults who knew what we wanted. To make our own choices even if they weren’t good for us. There was nothing more I could do to solve our problems tonight. Javi was safe. My mother was happy. My children were probably asleep with their father. For now, that was all that mattered. I rested a hand on Nick’s. “Do you want to get out of here?”
He pulled back to look me in the eyes. Whatever he saw inside them made him finish his drink in one deep slug and ask the bartender for the check.
CHAPTER 30
We stumbled over the threshold into Nick’s room, bumping into walls and fumbling over each other’s clothes, buzzing on liquor and adrenaline.
“What about Charlie?” I asked, craning my head to make sure he wasn’t waiting in the room. A single lamp had been left on, on the nightstand between the beds. Both of them were made, corners tucked, not a crease on either of the gaudy red-and-gold comforters.
“Haven’t heard from him since this afternoon,” Nick said against my neck as he dragged down my zipper.
“What if he comes back?”
Nick’s grin was deliciously wicked as he swung the dead bolt in place, locking Charlie and the rest of the world out. “Better?” he asked, unfastening the last two buttons of his shirt and shucking it onto the bed.
“Much,” I agreed, reaching for his belt.
He backed me to the mattress, then onto it, peeling off my sweatshirt and dragging my tank top over my head. He hooked his thumbs into the sides of my yoga pants, his lips kissing a path toward my navel, ashe slowly inched them down. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that book Sylvia was talking about,” he murmured against my skin. “The one where the hot cop ravages the heroine in the back seat of his car.”
“What about it?” I panted.
His lips traced the waistband of my panties. “What exactly did he do with his tongue?” he asked, his breath hot against the narrowing strip of cotton.
I was pretty sure my head would explode if he didn’t take the damn things off. “It’s a long book,” I said, arching to meet the teasing kiss he planted there.
“I have a long attention span.”
“Do you want the CliffsNotes version?”
He laughed. The low rumble of it nearly sent me over the edge as he spoke through the thin fabric. “Not a chance.”
