“We never did really get to finish talking about our lack of birth control,” he said.
“You want to chat about that, now?”
“Ignoring it won’t make it go away.”
“Never said that, but we have other things to deal with right now.” Her foot rattled the floorboard, and her free hand went right for her face, as she shoved her index finger in her mouth and chewed on her nail.
He didn’t blame her for being nervous. The idea put him a little on edge. But he worried it wasn’t for the same reasons, and that was something he needed to address. Not wanting to see her reaction, he kept his eyes on the road, and said, “I’m not scared of it, and that surprises me.” He exhaled slow through his nose, like he was checking himself for damage after a fall. Nothing broken. Nothing that felt like he should take it back. He stole a glance in her direction.
She pulled her finger from her mouth and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Her thumb moved in a slow arc against the grip of the Glock. But otherwise, her face remained basically expressionless. "I keep waiting to feel like I can’t breathe. That overwhelming desire to run that I always get, but then I keep throwing myself at you,” she said softly.
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“I pushed us into being a thing, and that’s not what I do.” She glanced at him. “I come in like a wild woman, create a storm, and then walk away, leaving nothing but wreckage behind. I should be terrified of how I feel about you, because I’ve never felt this way before.”
“Can’t say I have either.”
“You’ve at least had a real relationship. All I’ve had is a cold view from my sniper rifle and frozen dinners.”
“Don’t forget chicken and rice soup.”
She poked his arm. “I’m being serious here.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He reached across the cab and squeezed her thigh.
“I haven’t lived anywhere that felt like home since I was a kid, and Calusa Cove has wormed into my bloodstream like a good drug.” She shifted her gaze from the side mirror to him. “I’ve never wanted to be in a relationship where someone cares where I am and what I’m doing, but it matters with you. And I’ve never been irresponsible when it comes to birth control, and yet, I hadn’t even given it a second thought.”
She'd just handed him everything. Home. Her. The carelessness of someone who'd stopped calculating the cost. She no longer kept one foot out every door she'd ever walked through, had just admitted she wasn't looking for the exit anymore.
He had those three words right behind his teeth. He opened his mouth to let them pour out, but headlights blinded him as he approached the gate to Mallor’s Landing. “Who the fuck is that?”
“No idea. I don’t recognize the truck.” Dove leaned forward, resting her weapon on her thigh while she pulled out her cell. “Texting Buddy and Sterling the license plate and asking for backup.”
Two men leaned against the hood, arms loose at their sides, faces turning toward the incoming lights. They wore jeans, dark button-down shirts, boots, and cowboy hats, which weren’t unheard of in Florida but also weren’t the norm.
Trent stopped the vehicle at a safe distance. “What do you want to do?”
“Buddy, Cullen, and Sterling are ten minutes away.” She tucked her phone in her back pocket. “Let’s go see what they have to say.” She opened the center console and handed him his weapon. “But I’m not getting out of this truck without them seeing I’m not a friendly person.”
“Sounds like a good plan to me.” While Trent knew his way around a gun, he generally didn’t point them at people. They were for protection from animals. And only if things went sideways.
They got out on opposite sides. Trent came around the front with his Glock up and his heart in his throat. Dove was on his left, weapon raised, looking a lot more confident than he felt.
Both men raised their hands.
"Mr. Mallor." The one on the right had the easy stillness of someone who'd been on the wrong end of a weapon before and knew how it went. "Ms. Quinn." He looked at Dove. “We’re not a threat.”
“You’re trespassing,” Trent said. “And how the hell do you know our names?”
“How about we start by giving ours?” one of the men said. “I’m Easton Ridge, and this is my brother, Lachlan.”
“Everyone calls me Lach, and I'm a U.S. Marshal. I’ve worked?—”
“I don’t like marshals.” Trent lifted his chin. He held his weapon steady, though he didn’t much like pointing it at a human.
“Hopefully, you liked Slade, Dove’s uncle,” Lachlan said. “I’m so sorry for your loss, ma’am. Slade was a friend of ours and one of the reasons we’re here."
Dove's weapon didn't waver. Neither did her stance. But she did inhale sharply.
