Deep (Chicago Underground #8)(20)

Philip’s expression went completely blank. “You’ll be safe with me. I’ll make sure you’re comfortable—”

“God, you sound like you’re reciting a grocery list. This is my life we’re talking about. My friends. My family. You can’t just tell me all that’s over.”

In a flash the blank mask was gone, replaced with a kind of wild fury. “You think I don’t understand what’s at stake? I avoided you all these years. Avoided touching you, avoided talking to you. All so you’d be safe.” He laughed, a hollow sound. “And in one night it’s ruined.”

A wave of dark pleasure washed over me, to know he wanted me. He had said it in the dorm room, but God, it was hard to believe—after all this time. A man like him could have any woman. I had been a broken little girl. He wouldn’t touch me then.

He’d hardly even looked at me.

He was looking at me now, his eyes piercing, probing.

Part of me wanted to ask more questions, to find out what could have happened between us—without the world intruding. A man and woman, without the masks we wore, the criminal and the ingenue, the master and the student.

The world intruded, though—in the form of red and blue flashing lights.

“Shit.” Philip pressed the intercom. “Get us the f*ck out of here.”

Pretty sure Adrian had figured that one out already.

The vehicle sped up and took a sharp turn, tilting on two wheels. Philip settled into his seat, looking determined but not especially worried. Apparently they’d done this chase before.

It was a cold splash of reality. We were not just a man and woman. We could never be as simple as that.

He had an entire criminal empire. He had all of Chicago up in arms, fighting against him or for him. He had the entire police force looking for him.

And me? I was just a girl with no place to call home. No family, no future.

Again.





Chapter Sixteen

RAIN BEGAN TO fall as the sirens faded behind us. I could tell from the way Adrian twisted and turned through the city that we had a long way to go—evasive maneuvers to shake them off our direction.

Philip got on the phone, more riddles, more lies.

The pitter-patter of raindrops was a dark lullaby, and after hours of driving in circles, after hours of soft threats, I drifted off to sleep.

When I woke, I knew only warmth—the kind of warmth that came from another body, the kind of security that came from being watched over. My eyes blinked rapidly as they focused. I could see the seat in front of me, the one Philip had been in—empty.

And closer, beneath my cheek, black fabric.

I was resting on Philip’s thigh. The knowledge seeped into me like hot chocolate on a cold day, heating me up from the inside. He must have moved to sit by me. He must have moved to cradle me with his body, and after a lifetime of cold shoulders and stiff hugs, it felt incredible.

I let the movement of the vehicle jostle me. I didn’t want to wake up from this. I didn’t want to move.

“I don’t have time for his excuses,” he said on the phone, his voice low, almost blending into the purr of the engine, the rhythm of the rain. “Everything went sideways, and I want to know how.”

There was silence while the person on the other end spoke. I wouldn’t want to be him right now.

Philip growled. “I don’t care who you have to talk to. Kick down a f*cking beehive. No one pulls this kind of shit on their own. They have friends, and you’re going to find them.”

Another pause.

“And get that f*cking warrant withdrawn. Who signed it?”

My blood ran cold. I’d always known he had cops and lawyers in his pocket.

And judges too, apparently.

I sat up and pushed away from him. My body immediately missed his warmth, his solidity. But my heart needed the space. It especially needed the space when he snapped, “Remind him who he’s dealing with. Pretty sure he doesn’t want the world finding out about his grandson’s little problem.”

Then he hung up.

God, was no one innocent these days?

I wrapped my arms around myself and pressed against the far door, gaze trained on the window. The heavy rain had stopped, leaving the skies a dull gray and a smattering of drops clinging to the glass.

Philip definitely wasn’t innocent. Threatening judges, taking hostages. Really, that just scratched the surface of a man like him. Whatever had happened last night, whatever had led to him getting stabbed. Whatever had propelled him to my door in the middle of the night. They were sitting on top of Pandora’s Box, but if I looked inside, I would find horrible things.

Now that I had some space, there was a burning anger inside me.

It had seemed sweet, almost romantic that he had watched me, wanted me, waited for me. But the truth was that it was basically stalking. And the truth was that if he’d never watched me, he never would have shown up at my door, even in a moment of weakness.

And I wouldn’t have been facing the end of my former life.

“You feeling pissed off, kitten?” He sounded more amused than repentant.

I scowled at the window, refusing to face him. “Shouldn’t I be?”

“You should be raving f*cking pissed, yeah. You should punch me in the face.”

“Are you mocking me?” He was. He was mocking me. “I could do it, you know.”