“Speaking of which,” he begins, referring to the matter of my life being in danger.
On instinct, I sit up in bed about halfway, resting my upper back against the headboard. I feel like I should be mostly upright for this.If he can have topics that aren’t shower-friendly, then I can have sitting-only conversations.
“Yes?”
He studies my new position and wordlessly adjusts his own.With his cheek resting on my belly, I become his human pillow. His face turns so he’s looking at me over the swell of my breasts. Despite his location, he manages to cuddle me by snaking one arm around my lower back, pinning it between me and the mattress.
And then he releases the sigh to end all sighs. He’s the embodiment of contentment.
Oh, this man.
While making moon eyes at him, I finger-comb his damp hair, throwing in the occasional scalp scratch.
His eyes flutter shut. I keep mine open, though, not wanting to miss how serene he looks.
I couldn’t possibly love him more.
Regrettably, I have to destroy the moment before we can drift off. And watching him release his tension and find tranquility this way has my eyelids growing heavy.
I lick my lips and lightly clear my throat. “Don’t think you’re using sleep to get out of talking about what was bothering you when I called you dimples. But also, what were you going to say about my safety?”
Some of the serenity in his expression fades when he forces his eyes open. Otherwise, he doesn’t move. “I’m concerned about leaving you vulnerable when I go to work tomorrow. I can’t exactly bring you with me.”
“Bianca wasn’t sure if I’d need to deal another shift while wearing the spy gear. She explained you likely caught enough cheaters tonight that you’ll be busy building cases against them for several days before you orchestrate a mega arrest. Silas is your new priority, especially since I confirmed he was at the murder scene. More than likely, he’s the one who knows who is running the operation. Right?”
“As per tradition, Bianca is correct. In the morning, I need to get to the office and work through the new leads. I don’t want you to be my prisoner, but I also won’t leave you unprotected while Silas is out there. Or whatever the fuck his real name is. Until he accepts a meeting with you, we’ll keep hunting him. So far, he’s eluded us.”
A shiver runs up my spine, stopping behind my gritted teeth.“I can’t believe I dated a murderer.”
The visible half of his face crimps into a grimace. “Now that you mention it, what the hell were you thinking? You’rewayout of his league.”He clamps his mouth shut, clearly cutting off his words. I bet he wants to rant about Silas.
I'd better lighten the mood before it gets dark in here. And I don’t mean the lamp.
“Don’t worry. I know my worth, Reed.” I purse my lips, jokingly adding, “He came along when I was having a little sale.”
He furrows his brow at me, his lips shimmying like he’s fighting off a smile or a laugh. Instead, he snuffs out the conversation. “Well, those days are over now. I’ll pay top dollar, and you’re worth every penny.”
I redirect us in aslightlybetter direction. “Is Oak Winds letting me back only when I’m wearing a camera for you? Did they tell you if they fired me?”
“Honestly, I’m unsure. I’ll need to ask about that tomorrow. We’ve been moving so fast, and those kinds of things usually aren’t our concern.”
“I get it.” I twist a short strand of hair near his nape, loving how silky it is. “Oddly, Mr. Votaw didn’t talk to me tonight. Every time I saw him, I braced for him to scold me or bring me into his office to have the talk. The one where HR is in the room. I saw him a few times, but he never so much as looked at me.”
And I’m not pouting about that last part, even if I totally am.
I hate that I let him down. Before you ask, yes. I did sort of view him as a father figure, which is a trend you’ve likely noticed. Can you blame me, though?Mr. Votaw was always so sweet to me. A tad scary, but mostly kind.
Still better than my own father.
My heart pinches uncomfortably.Oh, Dad. I miss the person he was before Zara died.
He dove into his job, rarely coming home before I went to bed. And when he was around, he was a ghost of the man he was before. Mom disappeared in a different way. She hit the bottle, drowning her sorrow in vodka and gin. Much like Reed’s father did after the divorce.
Grief is a funny thing.
Everybody says it makes you stronger. Personally, I’ve never witnessed that. Perhaps the people who say that don’t know grief.
It destroys you.
