"My brilliant mind turned you on?"
"Everything about you turns me on. The mind's just a bonus." His fingers trail down my spine. "You're dangerous, Ava Langley. More dangerous than any weapon in my arsenal."
"Because I make you feel things?"
"Because you make me want things I shouldn't want. Like a future beyond the club. Like waking up next to you every morning. Like something that resembles normal." He pauses. "That scares me more than any firefight."
I prop myself up on his chest, looking down at him. "What if I told you I want those things too? What if I said I'm scared too, but I'm willing to take the risk?"
"Then I'd say we're both idiots for falling this fast." He cups my face. "But I'd also say I don't care. Because this, whatever this is between us, it's worth the risk."
"Yeah. It is."
We lie there in the darkness, wrapped around each other, and for the first time in days, I feel something like peace. Tomorrow I'll get back to work, to organizing evidence and building cases. Tomorrow Sarah and I will figure out our next steps. Tomorrow the threats will still exist and the danger will still be real.
But tonight, in Mason's arms, I let myself believe that maybe we'll survive this. Maybe we'll come out the other side scarred but whole.
Maybe we'll even get that future we're both afraid to hope for.
His breathing evens out first, exhaustion claiming him, and I follow soon after. But before sleep takes me completely, I hear him murmur against my hair.
"Love you, Ava. Know it's too soon, know it's crazy. But I do."
My heart clenches. I should tell him I love him too, should say the words back. But fear keeps them locked in my throat. Fear that saying it makes it real, makes me more vulnerable than I already am.
Instead, I press a kiss to his chest and whisper, "I know. Me too."
It's not enough. But it's all I can give right now.
And somehow, it's enough for him.
Chapter 7
Ice Pick
The morning sun cuts through the blinds like a blade, and I'm already awake when Ava stirs against me. She's tangled in the sheets, one leg thrown over mine, her hair a wild mess that somehow makes her more beautiful. Last night's confession hangs between us, unspoken but present, and I wonder if she remembers what I said or if she thinks I was already asleep.
I remember what she whispered back. "Me too" isn't "I love you," but it's close enough for now.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. Text from Vulture.
Vulture:
Church in thirty. New development on the shell companies.
I ease out of bed, careful not to wake Ava, and head for the shower. The hot water does nothing to wash away the tension settling into my shoulders. We took down the Reapers, freed the girls, and arrested the buyers. But someone's still out there, someone powerful enough to send people after Ava's apartment, someone desperate enough to leave threatening messages.
That someone's not going to stop until they're either in custody or we're all dead.
When I emerge from the bathroom, Ava's awake and sitting up in bed, the sheet pooled around her waist and nothing else covering her. It's a sight that makes my mouth go dry despite the urgency of Vulture’s text.
"Church?" she asks, having obviously seen my phone light up.
"Yeah. New intel on the corporate structure you've been tracing." I pull on jeans and a t-shirt, watching her watch me. "You should eat breakfast, check on Sarah. I'll fill you in after."
"I want to be there. If it's about my investigation, I should hear it firsthand." She stands, completely unselfconscious in her nakedness, and crosses to where I've laid out clean clothes for her. "Don't try to protect me from information, Mason. I need to know what we're dealing with."
"Church is for patched members only."
