“Where are you going?”
“My sister has a spare room.” He winces, shoving the fingers of both hands into his jeans pockets. It makes his forearms tense, his chest tightening. Drawing my eyes. “I’m… uh… short of options.”
I swallow. Five seconds in this man’s presence, and I can’t look away from him. “Don’t you own a shirt?”
Shit. Why did I say that?
“Yeah… sorry.” He starts for the bedroom.
“Don’t bother,” I say quickly. It comes out a little high, a bit desperate.
He stops within a pace, tilting his head a fraction as he regards me.
“Forget it,” I add in a mutter, feeling my cheeks flame. “Just… we need to talk. More important things than…”Putting clothes on that body.
“Right,” he says. He clears his throat. “I resigned. Officially, this time.” He glances at the boxes and huffs a laugh. “Obviously.”
“I heard.” And he did itfor me. Tears prickle at my eyes as I look at him.
He’s standing there, hands still in his pockets, a little self-conscious, yet still strong. Still solid, like nothing could shake him. But from the way he’s watching me, guarded and unsure, I sense that’s not true. Like the only thing that could shake him is me, and whatever I say next.
“Did you give the box to Renner?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
He nods. “Good.” A hand goes up and rubs the back of his neck, and it makes his chest move in ways that are far too distracting. I should’ve let him put his shirt on. “I’m glad he got it.”
“You didn’t want to hand it in to your boss?”
“No need,” he says quietly. “Renner could…”
“Could what?” I prompt when he trails off. I know what Kurt said, but I need to hear it from Declan.
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you when we met last.” He gives me a wry half-smile, a reminder without saying it that I didn’t let him get a word in edgeways. “But the reason I wanted that box was to… uh… negotiate.” He gives a small shrug. “It was… valuable to people high up, and I wanted to use it to ensure… as leverage.”
That was just about as much hedging as could be fit into one answer.
I cross my arms. “Remember when we talked about telling the truth?”
“…Yeah…”
“Oh, good. Just checking you’re not having a relapse. You want to try that again?”
He flinches. Takes a breath. Looks away then forces himself to meet my eyes. “I took the box because I wanted to use it to ensure that you weren’t prosecuted when they went after Renner, and probably the rest of the crew.” He tenses. “I know you wouldn’t accept me if that happened. I know you’d still hate me for betraying your friends. I just… wanted you to be… safe.”
“Safe?” I echo. “Safe, when my friends are in prison?”
“Yeah.” He closes his eyes like it hurts. “Well, it was a shit plan, so I didn’t do it. Luckily, Renner gave assurances instead.”
“Did he now?” That was news to me. “What kind of assurances?”
“It’s not really my place to say,” he begins, using the same language Kurt used, making me wonder what the two of them discussed. “But I promised I wouldn’t lie to you. Renner’s working for the CIA.”
I hold up a hand. “Okay, let’s stop there. Two people can’t have a relationship without lies—”
“It’s not a lie,” he says quickly. Then gives me a stunned look as what I actually said sinks in. “Huh?”
“What if I ask you if my butt looks big in something?”
