White Knight (Dirty Mafia Duet, #2)(25)

Memphis’s shoulders jerk back. “And you think he’ll go with it? Retire and turn over a name that we can hand to the DA? And whoever pulled the trigger goes to prison?”

Memphis only retreated a few inches, but I pull her back and continue working on her knotted muscles. “Let’s go through the evidence first. We’ll answer all those questions once we know exactly what we’re working with.” I give her a jostle to make sure she’s really listening and add, “And no more fucking running away.”

She bites down on her lip for a beat before replying. “I shouldn’t have done that. I . . . It’s been a lot lately. I . . .”

When she trails off, I clasp her hand between both of mine.

“You what?”

Her whole body shudders before she replies. “I lost the battle between fight or flight.” Her gaze drops to her lap. “I didn’t want you to see me break. It’s not something I’d want anyone to see.”

I swear to Christ my heart clenches, and I can’t help it—I haul her into my lap and tilt her chin up to meet my eyes.

“I can handle anything you throw at me. Anything. If you think you’re gonna break, you tell me, and I’ll hold you together. That’s what this is. You and me. The real thing.” A tear tilts over her lid, and I sweep it away with my thumb. “I can even handle your tears.”

I place a kiss on her lips and soak up the moment. Holding her against me. Feeling her heat. Knowing she’s mine.

Against my shoulder, she whispers, “You’re better to me than I deserve. Thank you.”

I pull back so I can meet her gaze once more. “No. This is exactly what you deserve. I’m on your team. I got you. Now, let’s look at the pictures and see what we can figure out so we can put this to rest and move on with both our lives. Deal?”

A ghost of a smile tilts her lips. “Deal.”

I seal it with another kiss, and in a matter of minutes, the coffee table is hardly visible as I rifle through the stack.

“Your dad had quite the interest in Dom. I’ll definitely give you that.” There are dozens of photos just of him. I lay them out in a line to my left. Dom getting in and out of cars. Dom in public places. At restaurants. His wife’s funeral.

“You can see why my suspicions brought me here,” Memphis says, looking sideways at me before glancing back at the table.

“Absolutely. But did you notice that the camera angle and style is always the same? Like the same photographer took a lot of these pictures?”

Memphis scoots closer to me and I lean in closer, catching the scent of her skin.

“Wait. You’re right.” She shifts to meet my gaze. “I always thought my father had cobbled together pictures of Dom from whatever source he could find, but—” She picks up the next photo on the stack, one of Dom walking into a restaurant, and then the one of Benny Romano on a street corner. “These were totally taken by the same person. What does that mean?”

The age of the photos is what has me wondering. Over half of them were taken over twenty years ago, and then there are some outliers that look like they were added within the last few years. “Could your father have inherited the file from someone? Picked it up off a friend who left it to him? A lot of these photos are really dated.”

Leaning into my side, she reaches for another black-and-white print as the knuckles of her left hand turn white from squeezing it so tight. “Where did you get these, Dad?”

I cover it with mine, brushing my thumb over her strained hand. “I know you wish you could ask him, but I promise, we will find out the answer.”

She groans, releasing her frustration. “You’re right.” And then she forges on.

One by one, we look at every single print. I give her location information, confirm the names of guys I recognize, and correct a few she got wrong. We make a pile of the pictures that caught a side profile of someone or something we can’t identify.

“Do you care if I take pictures of these? I have an idea who we could ask for some help. Maybe get some context and answers.”

Memphis turns, her knees bumping into mine as she surveys me. Even though the question should seem innocuous, I know it’s much bigger.

It’s a test. Do you trust me?

Sooner than I expect, she asks, “Can you do it safely?”

“I would never put you at risk.”

Her brows dart together. “Not me. You. I don’t want to put you in danger, Cannon.”

Everything that’s been growing and forming inside me furls open. I lift a hand to her face to sweep my thumb across her cheek. It is dangerous, but I love her.

She’s worth the risk. Worth everything.

“What did I tell you about danger, baby?” When I wink, she remembers, and I love how some of the worry in her face disappears.

Playfully, she rolls her eyes. “Oh yeah, it’s your middle name.”

“That’s right. Besides, whatever happens next, I swear I won’t let anything happen to either of us. Call me selfish if you want, but I need a hell of a lot more time with you. It’s going to take a lifetime for me to peel back all your juicy . . .” I place a wet kiss at the crook of her neck, and she squeals. “Sexy.” A hmm gets her another kiss. “Mouthy.”

“Hey!”

I chuckle but finish my point. “. . . beautiful layers.”