In For the Kill (McClouds & Friends #11)(148)

He braced himself against the delicate thrill of hope. “Sounds like you’re defending me,” he said carefully.

She laid her cool, slender hand on his. Excitement jabbed, hot and bright, like lightning lancing through the far reaches of his being.

“Nothing you did needs defending,” she said. “You almost died for me. Your instincts were always right. I was such an idiot. All I ever did was fight you. I can’t believe you hung around as long as you did.”

“Well.” He stared at the marks that marred her hand. “We didn’t always fight. There were . . . memorable interludes. Here and there.”

She cleared her throat. “I’m glad it wasn’t all pure hell on earth.”

The wind shifted. Voices filtered down from above. A glance over his shoulder revealed that the terrace was crowded with spectators of every age hanging over the railing, all suddenly fascinated by the view.

“They are chaperoning the living shit out of us,” he said.

“Do you want to go down to the beach?” she asked. “They’ll still stare, but at least we won’t be overheard.”

His heart thudded, but he played it cool. “Sounds good to me.”

She led the way. He could not stop staring, not even to watch where he put his feet. She sat on the bottom step and slid off her shoes. He did the same, but held her arm as she started to get up.

He grasped her ankle, bending her leg so he could get a look at the sole of her foot. She let him study the scars. The glass had sliced her feet to ribbons, and the rest of her hadn’t fared so well, either. She’d rolled all over the f*cking stuff, shirtless. She’d been bleeding from more cuts than he could count the last time he saw her. But she’d healed. She walked fine on those feet. He inhaled the biggest chestful of air he’d had in weeks and followed her onto the sand.

It was cold, the sun long gone, due to the shape of the coastline, though it still lit Tam and Val’s terrace and its load of onlookers. Sveti walked out to where the foam lapped up over the gleaming sand. Whoa. Toe-freezing sensory agony, to root him in reality. So much colder than the Mediterranean, in which they had so recently dunked themselves.

A wave swept in. He danced back and rolled up his jeans. Sveti laughed at him, which was well worth the soggy cuffs.

They fell into step together as they moved across the sand. A seagull strutted in front of them and gave them an insolent once-over before marching away. It left a spidery, twisting trail of tracks. He noticed these random details while he groped for an entry point into this life-altering conversation. He wished she’d just hand him one. Like, Sam, why are you here? or Sam, what do you want? Anything at all.

But no. She walked quietly, eyes downcast, letting him flail.

“I thought you were done with me,” she said. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

He grasped at the rope. “Oh, no. I’m not done. Not by a mile.”

Her eyes flicked up, questioning. “No?”

“I want more,” he blurted, then hissed through his teeth. “Damn, that sounds all wrong. What I mean is, I’ll take what I can get. Aw shit, that sounds all wrong, too. I don’t even know how to say it.”

Her eyes looked huge and startled. “Oh, Sam—”

“I know, we’ve been through it. How you can’t go there with me. No love, romance, or eternal devotion. You’ve got your big, hairy issues. Fine. I’ll take what I can get. Whatever you’ve got, I’ll take it.”

She opened her mouth, but he hurried on. “I mean it. Wherever you go. Europe, New York, Brazil, Turkmenistan, I don’t give a shit, I want to be there, too. I’ll be your lover when you want one, and I’ll be your friend forever. I think you’re f*cking awesome, and I need to be close to that. Wherever you are, whatever way I can. I’m not fussy.”

She looked bewildered. “And that would be enough for you?”

“No, probably not, but who cares?” he said. “I’ve never felt so alive as I did when you were making me miserable. I’ll take that, hands down, over any other alternative on earth.”

“Oh, Sam,” she whispered. “I don’t even know where to start.”

He held up a warning hand. “One thing, up front. I may be just a boy toy, but I’ll be a jealous one. Whatever perverse arrangement we come up with, it has to be exclusive, or we’ll have big problems.”

“Sam. Stop.”

The sharpness of her voice cut through his rant. “What?” he demanded. “No deal? It skeeves you out? Say it quick, if that’s your answer. So I can start swimming to Japan.”

“You deserve better than crumbs,” she said.

Dread gripped his insides and squeezed. “That sounds like the classic ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’ Which you’ve been saying from the start.”

“No! I just mean that you’re the one who is awesome. You deserve everything, Sam. Not just crumbs. You deserve the whole cake.”

“What I deserve is not the issue. The issue is what I can actually have.” He paused. “Besides, crumbs from you were yummier than all the other whole cakes I’ve ever tasted. So? Lay it on me. Make me suffer.”

“I don’t want you to suffer,” she whispered.

Good luck with that. He was born to it. He tightened his belly into impervious steel and forced himself to say it. “I take it that’s a no.”