Page 62 of Carver’s Crusade

Then he leaves.

I stare after him, my chest oddly tight. Nobody has ever treated me this gently before.

I dry myself slowly, still wrapped in the warmth of the towel and the even warmer feeling settling inside my chest. By the time I finish blotting water from my skin, there’s another soft knock at the bathroom door.

“Yeah?” I call.

The door opens just enough for Carver to step partially inside without looking directly at me. In his hands are my fluffy sleep pants and matching tank.

“Figured you’d want something comfortable.”

My throat tightens unexpectedly.

“Thank you.”

He finally glances toward me, his expression softening slightly. “Take your time.”

Then he disappears again.

I press the clothes against my chest for a second before dressing. The sleep pants are fuzzy and pink. I should feel embarrassed by them, but they’re my favorite because they’re comfortable.

Like Carver.

I shouldn’t like that as much as I do.

When I leave the bathroom, Carver is sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for me. His eyes lift immediately, and heat floods my cheeks at the intensity in his gaze.

Lust is there, but there’s something more. Something gentler and more dangerous in an entirely different way.

I quickly grab my laptop from where I left it on the nightstand before I lose my nerve.

“I should show you what I found.”

He motions for me to sit beside him.

I open the files I copied earlier from Tony’s and his friends’ social media accounts. Most are pictures of the six of them together doing guy stuff like camping, playing baseball, and shooting hoops. There are a few with women, but never more than three at a time. As if keeping the balance off is the whole point. I stare into the women’s eyes and wonder if they were there by choice or if they’re drugged. There is no denying that their smiles aren’t as bright as those of the men.

Carver’s jaw tightens as he scrolls through everything. I wonder if he’s seeing what I’m seeing.

“This is good,” he mutters.

“I thought maybe some of it mattered.”

“It does.”

He takes the laptop from me and stands. “I’m gonna show this to Shield.”

I nod, suddenly nervous again once he leaves the room.

The silence doesn’t last long.

I move toward the dresser and pick up a comb, trying to work through the damp tangles in my hair. I barely make it through one stubborn knot before the bedroom door opens again.

Carver crosses the room without a word and gently takes the comb from my hand.

“Sit.”

I blink at him. “What?”