I’m just as bad as him.
He roughly scrubs his hand over his face. “Fine. I can admit it. The first time I showed up for adate, that was the plan. Our team knew about this crime ring’s connection to your casino. I thought I could get you to talk to me. Whether you were involved or not, you likely had information of some sort. So, sure. You got me. It started that way, but it changed quickly for me.Yes, I still need to know what you’re hiding, but that isn’t the main reason I’m here.”
Wait. His timing is off.
“What about when I found you in my apartment that night, alone and in the dark? Or when you hauled me into Mr. Votaw’s office? You were already working me over then, weren’t you?”
“No.” He grits his teeth and grumbles something to himself that sounds like a death threat against...?Morgan Freeman? The actor?
And I thought I was confused before.
“Reed, your story doesn’t add up. If it wasn’t for a case, then why did you start hounding mewaybefore the night Kenzie faked the headache and we had our first fake date?”
“I saw Elliot Riddick near your table. And you looked mad as hell, which set off alarm bells. When I followed him, he fled, proving he was guilty ofsomething.And as for pulling you into your boss’ office, that wasn’t my idea.”
He seems sincere, but I don’t trust him. My wounds are still raw. “Whose idea was it?”
“After Riddick ran off, I consulted with the head of casino security. Once he saw the video footage of Riddick leering at you, he and your boss insisted we confront you to see what you’d say.I tried to keep you out of it, but you were involved no matter what I told them.”
I was an inch from prison this entire time.
And Reed tried to keep me out of it?
Did I get this wrong? Did Kenzie really break us up? Or is this more of Reed’s game?
I don’t know what’s real anymore.
Dejected, Reed stares at his hands. “Lila, I’d never lie to you about how we ended last time. Especially not for a case.”
I let my vision fall to the floorboards. “I’m unsure what to think. I’m confused.”
“What’s confusing, Lila?” Hints of frustration seep into his pained tone. “I’m trying my best to be clear with you.”
Still unable to face him, I stumble through a meaningless response. “You’re constantly demanding answers. I don’t know what’s happening right now. But it’s like I-I-I...?I feel like you’re manipulating me.”
“If I’m manipulative for telling you the people behind this are violent killers, then so be it. As long as you’re safe, I don’t care what you call me.”
My body shifts toward him on its own accord. “That isn’t the only reason I feel manipulated.”
“What is it? What specifically did I say to make you think I would use the worst heartbreak of my life against you?”
He captures me in his penetrating stare, so deeply entrenched in agony. For a long time, I can’t speak.
All I can do is feel.
I feel his pain and mine, how they mingle together in the tortured space between us.
I feel his hungry gaze raking over my skin, leaving heat in its wake.
The oxygen surging in and out of my lungs.
And the pulsing need between my legs.
With all that as the backdrop, I can’t comprehend what his words convey. It’s sensation overload.
However, I caught one thing he said, and it’s waving a yellow caution flag behind my eyes. My skeptical words come out in a shuddery breath. “Worstheartbreak of your life? Surely you don’t mean?—”
“More than my first breakup and any other breakup that followed. More than my dad dying. More than when I found out what my birth mother did to us. And maybe even more than when they ripped me out of my brother’s arms to send me to a new home I didn’t want.”
