“I was terrified because, what if I’m not there?” His expression became even harder as he closed in on her. “The next time an attacker strikes, what if I am not there?”
“Ryan…”
“There’s a bounty on your head, and two would-be killers have come for you in one night.”
“Amateurs.” A lump rose in her throat. She choked it down.
“What if the next one isn’t an amateur?” He stopped right in front of her. “What if you run from me, you disappear into the night, and the next attacker who finds you—when I’m not there—isn’t an amateur? What the hell happens then?”
“Watch yourself,” she chided. “Or I’ll begin to think you care about the woman you fucked.”
His hands flew up to curl around her shoulders. “I should never have fucked you.”
He was a master at delivering heartbreak.
“Do you know how many rules I shattered doing that? But I wanted you too much to stop. I’ve never crossed lines like this on other cases. I don’t fuck randomly, either. I’m particular with my lovers, and I will tell you with one hundred percent honesty, I have never wanted anyone the way I want you.”
Simone had no ready response.
“I do care,” he added, voice ragged, “and that’s the problem because I am not used to—” Ryan broke off abruptly. He shook his head, and then his right hand rose from her shoulder. He pushed back her hair.
“Ryan?”
“You’re missing an earring.”
Oh, no.
His other hand lifted so he could brush back the hair on the opposite side of her head. “Two earrings. You’re missing them both.”
“They must have fallen off during the struggle. Excuse me, I need to go change. I’m freezing in these wet clothes.” She spun abruptly, intending to hurry to her room.
But when she spun, his hands caught the coat she’d been wearing. His coat. He pulled it away from her.
“Simone, stop.”
She didn’t want to stop, but it was not like she could escape right then. He’d just follow her to her room. Sucking in a deep breath, she paused. “Was there something else? Some big, heart-felt confession you wanted to make?”
“Turn toward me.”
She whirled toward him, making sure to have her innocent expression in place. “Yes?”
His sharp gaze swept over her. A muscle flexed along his now clenched jaw. “You aren’t wearing the broach.”
Simone gasped. Her hand flew up, and she touched the blouse, in the spot where the broach had been attached earlier. “Oh, no.” A sad shake of her head. “Again, it must have fallen off during the struggle at the Arch.”
“I don’t remember you struggling at the Arch. You were behind me, then beside me, and when I launched at the prick, he and I slammed into the ladder.” His gaze had lifted to hold hers. “You grabbed the gun he’d dropped.”
“Yes, I was rushing around, lunging up and down.” A nod. “Totally understandable that I would lose the broach and earrings in all the confusion and drama.”
“You grabbed the gun, then you tried to run away. You didn’t get far.”
Because of Harry.
“You were running to him, weren’t you?” Ryan demanded.
“Him?” Her brows climbed. “To Harry? Hardly. I didn’t even know he was lurking in the dark.” Until she’d nearly slammed right into him.
“You were running to the man who hired you to steal the broach and the earrings.”
