Keep Her Safe(111)

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll leave it right here for the night, within easy reach for me.” He sets it down. “You know, once they’re done with your dad’s Colt, maybe they’d be willing to give it back to you.”

To me? “I’ve never fired a gun.” To be honest, the idea of them has always made me edgy.

His brow raises in curiosity as his gaze drifts over my bare legs. “You want to upgrade from the switchblade?”

I smirk. “Only if you teach me how to use it.”

“I’ll take you out to the range where my mother taught me,” he promises.

“Deal.” My heart stutters as I crawl into the double bed—too small for the two of us—and take my place on the far end near the wall.

With a flick of Noah’s wrist, the lamp is shut off, the room thrown into darkness save for the glimmer of streetlights from beyond the blinds. It’s just enough light for me to watch him reach over his head and yank off his T-shirt, then kick off his shorts. Exposing that hard body, molded by hours of effort, now covered in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs that sit dangerously low on his hips.

My shaky breath fills the quiet room as he settles in beside me, the bed sinking under his weight.

I’ve been with guys before, I remind myself.

And I’ve already seen Noah naked. Unintentionally, but all the same . . . And I slept against that chest—clothed—last night. And I climbed onto that lap, just this afternoon.

It’s as if he can read my mind. Stretching his arm across, he wordlessly beckons me to him, to take over the same position that I woke up to this morning. I happily slither into it, pushing aside the warning voices in the back of my mind. The ones that have lingered, a soft hiss in my conscience, reminding me of the possible pitfalls ahead, given our history.

“I doubt either of us is going to sleep much tonight,” he murmurs, drawing sloppy circles against my bare shoulder with one hand, while his other brushes my wild mane of hair back, tucking it under his chin. “I mean, because of paranoia.”

“Right. That’s why.” I note the growing ridge in the front of his briefs and chuckle.

Noah’s responding laugh vibrates deep within my chest.

And then suddenly he’s rolling me onto my back. Even in the dimness, I can see the brilliant blue of his eyes as he hovers over me, his hand sweeping away the stray curls from my face.

“No matter what happens, whatever we find out . . . we will always have each other, right?” he asks.

“No matter what.” Just the thought of not having Noah within reach tomorrow, next week, next year, causes an unbearable emptiness in my heart.

He’s changed my life.

And with that realization, all my reservations about letting this—us—happen melt away.





CHAPTER 45


Officer Abraham Wilkes

April 29, 2003

“Wilkes, I need a minute.” Mantis appears out of nowhere, marching toward my car.

“Sorry, don’t have one.” I need to change my parking spot, starting tomorrow.

I unlock my door, but Mantis blocks it with his stocky body before I’m able to yank it open.

“Make one.” There’s a sharpness in his tone that instantly puts me on high alert. “I want to make sure you’re clear that you were mistaken about what you think you saw the other night.”

“Was I?” A low, bitter chuckle sails from my lips.

Mantis’s eyes narrow. “Don’t be a fucking moron. This fight you’re picking isn’t worth it.”

“I’m not picking any fights.”

“Good, ’cause you won’t get anywhere with it.”

“Then why are you even here, Dwayne? You worried?” Everything about him—his stance, his expression, his voice—tells me why he’s here: to issue an ultimatum, a warning.

An unspoken threat.

He takes two steps back, scanning the parking lot. There’s no one within earshot, from what I can see. “I am worried. About you tanking your career for a lowlife drug dealer.”

“I’ll worry about my career. You worry about yours. Along with your freedom.” I climb into my car and crank my engine. I pull out, slowing just long enough to open my window and holler, “Oh, hey, Mantis, by the way . . . I have proof.”

I wish I could record the look on his face in my rearview mirror as I speed off.





CHAPTER 46


Noah

“Noah . . .” a female voice croons seductively.

“Noah . . .”

“Noah.” A hand paws my face, and I realize I’m not dreaming. Gracie’s calling my name.

“Yeah?” My voice carries with it a heavy morning scratch.

“Can you let Cyclops out? Please?” she mumbles into the pillow.

I frown, forcing my head to one side, to see him curled up by the door, fast asleep. I let him in around three a.m. while up to use the bathroom. He hasn’t moved from that spot. “He’s not asking.”

“He needs to go outside and kill all those damn birds.”

The bed shakes with my hearty laugh. I reach over to smooth my hand over her arm. “That’s what you woke me up for?”

“They’re torturing me. I’m so tired.” She hugs the sheets to her chest but they cascade down, over her hip, exposing her slender, naked back to me. That back that I admired last night, as she positioned herself on the bed before me, as I gripped her curvy hips tight within my hands.