Raw Redemption (Crossing the Line #4)(49)

His sincere warning did it, sent her into oblivion a few seconds before Henrik followed, powerless to stop the tumult when her walls clenched around his hurting flesh. Sticky moisture pooled where their bodies met, but it only seemed to turn Ailish on more, his not-so-innocent girl grinding down into the wetness with a reveling cry, another trembling wave passing through her body and hitting him square in the soul.

There were words fighting to leave his tongue, but he pressed his lips together and held them back. With what was to come inside the meeting room, though, she would hate him all the more if he vocalized the feelings storming inside his chest. So instead, he tugged Ailish down onto his chest, wishing for all the world he could absorb her, carry even a small part of her around with him over the next couple days. Knowing they only had a few more minutes of being close, existing without betrayal, Henrik stroked her red hair, breathed her in.

“I have something for you.”

She sat back and looked down at his lap. “Something else?”

Henrik wanted to laugh, but couldn’t quite manage it. Nor could he manage to tear his gaze off Ailish as he reached into his jeans pocket to remove the jewelry box he’d been carrying around since yesterday. Eagerness hit him, so intense he couldn’t wait for Ailish to open the gray suede box herself, popping it open between them. He held his breath as she looked at the contents, pressing delicate fingers to her mouth, but not quite stifling her gasp.

“You bought me a necklace?” She took the box, running a light touch over the silver charm. It was in the shape of a key. “It’s beautiful, Henrik. Thank you.”

He took the box and removed the necklace, memorizing the way she bit her lip and lifted her hair, excitement dancing in her eyes. “This key means something. It’s the key to your freedom. You understand, Ailish? I need you to wear it and remember I’ll never let someone lock you away ever again.” He managed to fasten the tiny clasp, not an easy feat with big, blunt fingers. “As long as you’re wearing it, you’re acknowledging that. Okay? I hope you never take it off.”

Cloaked in quiet trust, she shook her head. “I won’t.”

Forgive me for what I have to do, baby.

...

When Henrik and Ailish walked into the squad room fifteen minutes later holding hands, impatience hung in the air like humidity. Derek paced behind his desk, fists flexing at his side. On one end of the room, Austin and Polly leaned against the cinder-block wall, speaking in hushed tones. Bowen and Sera were tucked up in a corner, Sera perched on her boyfriend’s lap as usual, writing in her notebook while Bowen read over her shoulder.

The quiet scene in the room changed dramatically when Henrik and Ailish walked in—five pairs of sharp eyes landing on Ailish, making judgments and gauging her usefulness. When Ailish released his hand, crossed her arms, and sized them up right back, Henrik’s pride in her expanded more than ever.

On cue, Sera gained her feet and glided across the room with a hand out. “I’m Sera. Sorry for the lack of warm welcome. We’re actually not so bad once you get to know us.” She treated each of her squad mates—including Bowen—to a raised eyebrow. “Maybe they just need a reminder you’re here to help?”

A chair scraped back, Bowen the first to take his wife’s less-than-subtle hint. Henrik bit down on the urge to drag Ailish into his side as the ex–gang leader approached to shake her hand. “Bowen. And we are that bad.” He pecked a kiss onto Sera’s cheek. “Except this one.”

Ailish’s expression softened. “Oh, another couple.” In what seemed to be an unconscious move, Ailish uncrossed her arms and took Henrik’s hand again, while still addressing Bowen and Sera. “Do you double-date with Connor and Erin?”

Bowen’s laughter bounced off the walls until Henrik silenced him with a scowl. “We’re not too social,” the former Brooklynite explained. “But do me a favor and ask Connor that same question next time we’re all together. Just so I can see his face.”

“Sure,” Ailish returned. “But I’ll lay odds on a frown.”

“Funny you should mention odds,” Derek cut in, approaching to their right. “Since information about your father’s gambling operations is why you’re here.”

Irritation pulled at the top of Henrik’s spine, and this time he did draw Ailish up against his side. No help for it. His nerves were starting to fray at the inevitability that was fast approaching. “You think she could shake off the rain before you start interrogating her?”

The captain was unfazed. “If you weren’t an hour and a half late, I would consider it.” He went back to his desk. “As it is, however, we don’t have a lot of time for introductions, so take a seat.”

“Was there a please in there?” Ailish wanted to know, not budging an inch and making Henrik want to kiss her pouty mouth until she ran out of air.

Clearly well used to working with strong women—not to mention being married to one—Derek gave a single nod. “Please take a seat, Ms. O’Kelly. We’re on a time crunch.”

Henrik reached for the nearest folding chair, dragged it over, and grunted, indicating that Ailish should take it. Before she sat down, she went up on her toes and whispered in his ear. “Henrik?”

“Yeah, baby,” he rumbled, letting his hand settle on her hip.