The Wolf (Black Dagger Brotherhood: Prison Camp #2)(114)

It was the only way to survive.

And besides, Mozart didn’t know for sure whether she was dead or alive, so that gave her an advantage.

“Rio? Where’d you go in your head?”

Refocusing, she shrugged.

“There are other dealers in town.” She tried to keep the sadness out of her voice. And failed. “I really wish you were not . . . I wish I could help you get away, that’s all.”

“You need to get out of this life, Rio. It’s killing you from the inside, like a disease. You already lost your brother and your parents to drugs, don’t lose yourself.”

“It’s too late for that,” she said grimly.

Riding a sudden surge of emotion, she wanted to grab on to him, and start talking a bunch of crazy shit about not just him going underground but her as well—except she knew better than that. Fairy tales didn’t exist in the real world, and certainly not between cops and drug dealers.

They were silent for what felt like a lifetime. Then he spoke up.

“You need to leave here first,” he said. “So I can make sure no one is following you.”

“This can’t be the end,” she whispered to herself. Although technically this was their second goodbye, wasn’t it.

“It has to be. And you know it. We are not good for each other.”

The man was right, of course. “I’m so tired, Luke. I’ve been running for so long.”

“I feel the same way.” He brushed her lower lip with his thumb. “And I’m sorry if I was rough with you when I mounted you.”

“You’re perfect.” She stroked his chest, over his heart. “Besides . . . it has to last a lifetime, doesn’t it.”

For a moment, as he looked into her eyes, she felt like his resolve was wavering. But then he nodded curtly and pulled the bolts of mismatched fabric off of himself. The way he was careful to tuck her in made her tear up.

She hated being taken care of. Looked after.

Except for by him.

His pants had been tossed all willy-nilly aside, and as he bent over to pick them up off the concrete floor, she got a helluv’an ass shot. And then he was stepping into them and pulling them up his thick thighs—

Something fell out of the combats’ back pocket—a bundle of papers, the square they had been forced into unfolding now they were out of the confines they had been in.

Inside the folds . . . she saw something she recognized.

Rio reached out and pulled the wad toward her. As she flattened the pages, she gave the sketches of the facility she’d drawn a quick once-over.

Not like she needed to review them in depth.

“I know you’re a cop, Rio.” When she looked up sharply, he put his palm out. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anybody—even if they torture me, your secret is safe. But just do us both a solid and don’t try to lie to me now. You engineered staying longer than you had to under the pretext of helping Kane, you clearly took notes on the layout, and you’re all but begging me to get out of the business. If you were a drug dealer, you’d be talking about the deal—and you never have. Not even once.”

Looking down as he did up his fly, his hair fell forward and hid his expression. And then he pulled on his sweatshirt and a jacket that hadn’t registered. To get his boots on, he sat on the floor next to the makeshift bed, and she watched as if from a vast distance as his strong hands did the laces up.

Then he was still.

When he stared over at her, his expression was full of sorrow. “I know you used me. I’m never going to really be sure how much of what you did with me was real, and how much was about seducing me for your own purposes. And the truth is . . . I don’t want the truth. I’d rather just leave things right here and be able to pretend that you cared about me. Even if it was just a little.”

Rio threw out her hand, but he shifted away from her touch.

“I’m just going to choose to believe in my fantasy,” he said. “They’re never real, right? But they feel great, don’t they, especially when there’s nothing to compete with them when it comes to hope and validation. And hey, for me, I have one further than most people. Mine is not just a conjecture, conjured by the mind, but an actual memory. A tangible experience.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Luke, it wasn’t like that for me—”

“It was. But you always were too good for me, and I’ve known this all along. And not just because I’m a drug dealer and you’re—”

Sitting up to cut him off, she held a stripe of blue velvet to her chest. “I never lied to you.”

“Except for about who you really are.” He looked down at his hands. “But like I said, it’s okay. You have very, very good reasons for keeping that shit to yourself. I don’t blame you, and I’m just lucky I got to be with you, no matter the reason or the pretext.”

“Please let me explain.”

“There’s no way you can without more lies, and I’ve made peace with the ones that are already between us.” Luke turned to the stairs. “I’ll give you some privacy to let you get dressed. See you up there.”

He walked away, moving in that beautiful way he did, and as he disappeared up the rickety stairs, tears started to fall from her eyes.

But if she was honest with herself . . . how else had she thought things would end?