Shades of Gray (KGI #6)(51)

Hell, it had already happened.

After their one-night stand, he’d gone batshit crazy at the idea of her being used as bait to lure Nelson into a trap. He’d been right, but if it had been any other woman, would he have been so adamant about her performing her job?

Probably not.

Which meant that he wouldn’t take it any better in the future when P.J. put herself on the line, and he knew P.J. This incident wouldn’t slow her down. It would likely make her that much more determined not to let what happened to her interfere in future missions.

His first instinct had been to protect her. He hadn’t considered what was best for the mission. Or the people they were trying to protect by bringing Brumley down. He’d only cared that P.J. was risking herself, and he’d wanted her in a role that assumed less risk.

It was a hell of a dilemma for him, because he wasn’t sure if he could give the team one hundred percent as long as P.J. was involved. And she’d never allow him to shield her from the reality of their jobs. He’d have less respect for her if she did. But it didn’t change the fact that he was a basket case at the idea of her incurring huge personal risk.

He rubbed his hand over his face, weary from the sheer weight of his worry and indecision.

He wanted P.J. He thought he might even love her. But could he commit to her knowing the kind of baggage they’d both bring to the table? Would it be fair to her and her position on the team to have a crazy-ass lover and teammate whose sole objective was to keep her safe and f**k the rest of the world?

And even if it wasn’t fair, it was far too late, because he’d already laid out his cards. He’d told her he was here. That he’d wait as long as it took for her to get her head on straight again.

Even as he thought the last, he winced at how it sounded. Get her head on straight? You used language like that for someone who’d f**ked up. For someone whose head wasn’t in the game.

That wasn’t the case with P.J. She hadn’t f**ked up. She’d done everything right and had paid a steep price for that. He couldn’t fathom how she’d been able to keep it together this long.

As he stared at her features, softened by the veil of sleep, something inside him twisted and knotted. The problem was, she’d kept it together too well. Which meant at some point, she had to break. No one could completely turn it off forever, and what had sustained her all these months was hunting for the men who’d hurt her. Once she no longer had that objective holding her together, what would happen?

She’d need him—someone—then more than ever. The question was, would she accept his help? Or would she push him away, determined to shoulder everything on her own?

He shook his head. “I won’t let you do that, P.J.,” he whispered. “I don’t know what exactly it is that we have, but I’m not willing to let it go no matter how hard it is.”

Relationships took work. He’d seen the evidence of that enough times just by observing the Kellys. Ethan’s wife, Rachel, had been through hell, and her road to recovery had been a bumpy one.

But P.J. was worth it. She deserved happiness. She deserved a man who stood by her and with her. Someone who allowed her to be herself. Even if it killed him, he was going to be that man. Encouraging her to be the kick-ass woman he knew her to be and not holding her back no matter how hard his gut screamed at him to shield her from anything that could ever hurt her.

Love sucked.

Love required sacrifices that were hard to make. It required him to go against every instinct so he didn’t crush what made P.J. so special to begin with.

If this was what falling in love was about, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted in or not.

And yet, the idea of P.J. not being in his future as more than just a team member he hung out with sucked. It didn’t really matter what he wanted or what was easy at this point, because the decision had been made for him.

P.J. was his. And yeah, it wouldn’t be easy, but nothing worthwhile ever was.

He liked her just the way she was. All hard-ass, stubborn, independent and capable of kicking anyone’s ass. Even his.

He wouldn’t change a goddamn thing about her.

The sudden surge of emotion caught him off guard. It was as if admitting to himself the depth of his feelings for P.J. made him want to act on them now. He wanted her to know, for her to feel, what she meant to him. How long had he carried a torch for her?

He couldn’t pinpoint an exact time or place. Rather, she’d gradually grown on him as he’d grown to respect and admire her. Over time his feelings had changed to something intensely more personal, and now here he was watching as she slept on his couch in his home.

He had her exactly where he most wanted her, and his hands were tied and he was unable to act on the attraction between them.

Still, he found himself getting up so he could be closer to her. He knelt in front of the couch, his fingers going to trace the baby-soft skin on her cheek.

Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, as it always was, but tendrils escaped and floated down her face, giving her an air of vulnerability that made his chest tighten.

He’d seen her at her most vulnerable. At her lowest point. It was an image he wished he could wash from his memory. Her broken and bloody, her eyes awash with shame.

Even now it was like a punch to the stomach. He couldn’t even think about it without wanting to put his fist through a wall.