Take Your Time (Boston Love #4)(75)

My teeth clench harder.

“Christ, Delilah, how could you not tell me about this?”

“I didn’t want to take the focus off Phoebe’s wedding.” I swallow roughly. “I didn’t want to ruin things.”

“It’s a fucking wedding! I think your life is a bit more vital than centerpieces and tulle!”

“Have you met Phoebe?” I joke weakly.

He is not amused.

“Okay, I realize it may’ve been… unwise… to keep this a secret.”

“Unwise?” he practically roars.

“I made a judgment call, okay?” My pulse is pounding. “Maybe not a perfect one, but—”

“Perfect? No. Not a word I’d use.” He steps closer to me. “You don’t get to conceal the fact that loan sharks are after your shithead brother and, as a byproduct, have placed you on their radar as well. Not from me, not when it concerns your safety. And you certainly don’t get to make cutesy little jokes after I find out about it, and expect me to laugh.”

“For the record, I knew you wouldn’t laugh.”

His glare intensifies.

I cross my arms over my chest. “You know, this brooding, brutish act is knocking some serious hotness points off your overall score. Maybe we should go back inside, talk things through. Possibly get back in that shower of yours because, honestly, it’s very hard to worry about anything under that waterfall—”

“Fucking Christ, Delilah!” Luca swears colorfully. “Not everything is a goddamn joke!”

“I wasn’t joking.” I sigh. “I know you’re pissed, but I really don’t understand why you’re at DEFCON 1 right now. I mean, DEFCON 5, maybe I could understand. Even DEFCON 3. But to jump straight to the highest level—”

“You want to know why I’m so pissed?” He takes a stride closer, voice vibrating with anger. “You knew, from the moment we saw those guys at the park the other day, that they were after you. Yet you still didn’t tell me.” His eyes flash. “If I’d known, I would’ve been prepared. I could’ve prevented you from getting hurt. But you’re so fucking determined to push me away, to do everything on your goddamned own, you nearly got yourself killed tonight.”

“I—”

He cuts me off. “I spoke with Nate. Had him run that license plate through the Knox Investigations database. Got an ID on the guys who attacked you. Justin Scarpetta and Tyrell Grafton — they work for one shadiest loan sharks on the entire West Coast. Worst kind of criminals you can find. Rap sheets longer than my arm, the both of them. Assault, battery, attempted rape, vandalism, extortion. The list goes on.”

I blanch.

His jaw clenches. “You still think your judgment call was right? Still think it was a good choice not to tell me? Because, babe, if I hadn’t been there tonight to stop them… there’s a very good chance you wouldn’t be alive right now. Worse, there’s a chance you’d wish you weren’t alive, after the things they’d do to you.”

Tears begin to gather behind my eyes.

He leans down, so his face is a few inches from mine. “So, you see why I might be a little pissed when you act like being attacked is nothing but a blip on your radar, something to laugh about now that it’s over, some fun little anecdote you whip out at cocktail parties.” He’s breathing hard. “That’s not my idea of fun. Your safety is not a fucking joke. Not to me.”

“Luca, I didn’t…” My voice breaks. “I’m…”

When he sees how scared I am, some of the anger clears from his face. I hold his stare, trying desperately not to panic.

“I— I’m sorry,” I finally force out.

“Don’t want you sorry, babe.” His forehead comes down on mine, eyes closing, nostrils flaring as he breathes me in. “Want you smart. That means telling me when you’re in trouble. That means admitting when you need help.”

I nod. “I will. I promise.”

“Good.” His mouth is still frowning as it brushes mine in a hard, frustrated kiss. Though his anger has dwindled a bit, it’s not gone yet. Not completely.

I pull out of his grip and walk to the railing, looking out over the water with my back to him.

“Delilah.”

“Don’t kiss me when you’re angry.”

“Always want to kiss you, babe.” His voice is a shade warmer — closer to his usual gruff tones, rather than the guttural grind your bones into bread growl he’s been directing at me for the past few minutes. I feel his heat at my back, hovering close, but he doesn’t touch me. “Could be screaming my head off at you, or vice versa, I’d still want my mouth on yours and your hair in my hands.”

Shit.

I inhale deeply, affected by his words despite myself. I hate it when he’s sweet. It totally ruins my righteous anger vibe.

He comes around to lean against the railing beside me, pressing his side into mine as we stare at the sea of stars shining down on the inky black harbor. The lights of East Boston glow like fireflies across the expanse.

“What did your brother tell you?”

“Not much.” I sigh. “I’ve known Duncan was in financial trouble for a few months, now, but I didn’t know about the loan shark stuff. Not until he showed up the other day. He said they were after him, but assured me they wouldn’t try to track me down.” I snort. “Guess he was wrong.”