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Sasha searched his face. He hated the hurt reflected in her eyes. Hated that he’d put it there. “There were several times I wished you would’ve. I’m not going to pretend it didn’t sting when I opened my front door to see Detective Wright standing there with someone else, but I understand why you haven’t been more involved.”
“I’m not sure you do.” Not being there when she needed him was a blow to his system, a concoction of guilt and disappointment for not being a better man. If he hadn’t slept with her, he could be there for her in other ways, like conducting the interrogations. It wasn’t as though anyone knew about their physical relationship, but when the lieutenant asked where he could use additional help to ease his caseload, he didn’t hesitate to ask someone to step in with Sasha’s interviews.
“You’re ashamed that we let the relationship get personal.” She looked away from him, toward the window. “When you see me, it’s like looking a mistake right in the face and wishing it never happened.”
He shook his head in disbelief, cursing himself for leaving her in the dark as to his whereabouts. “I am ashamed things escalated the way they did, but only at myself. It was unprofessional, and I’ve felt morally obligated to shift my focus when it comes to the cases surrounding you.” With a tender touch, he stroked the side of her cheek. “Look at me.”
Those eyes, swimming with more hurt than she let on, locked on him.
“Don’t think for one second think that I see a mistake when I look at you. All I can see is a woman who’s as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. You’re gentle with others, but you have a strong spirit. You don’t give up. If you did, Melissa Fletcher would still be a captive. You’ve been dealt more shit than anyone should have to face, but you still see beauty in the world.” Another tear leaked down her cheek, and her curls swayed around her face as she shook her head.
“You give me more credit than I deserve.” She twisted her hands together on her lap, the hospital-issued gown slipping over her pale shoulder. “I’ve just put one foot in front of the other since the fire. I’m emotionally frigid, but I know the role I have to play when it comes to gallery showings and public relations.” She dropped her head slightly, and her hair swayed forward.
“Frigid is a word I would never associate with you. Everything about you is warmth and compassion. You give it to others, but you can’t seem to give it to yourself.”
When she glanced back at him, tears were building on her lower lash line.
“What we did was not a mistake, only the circumstances. That night was a gift. Every touch and kiss, every sound you made is burned into me, and it’s torture to stay away.”
She tugged in her bottom lip with her teeth, then released it. “I live on autopilot. I guess that’s not really living at all. Every waking moment, I’m chasing an escape, an outlet. That’s why I paint until my hands are numb, devour book after book so I’m not inside my own head. Being with you was the first time I’ve let myself feel everything without it bringing pain.” A tear slipped over her cheek, and he caught it with the pad of his thumb. “The first time I’ve been in the moment without having my mind drift to dark places.” The last words were slightly slurred, exhaustion lacing her delicate features.
If she needed him to be an outlet, that was what he’d be. Maybe others might be offended to be used as an escape, but he was different. Their shared trauma gave him an alternate perspective. To get lost in the moment with someone, no matter how explosive the sex was, you had to trust. An emotion that didn’t come easily for people like them. Even if she couldn’t verbalize it, she cared for him on more than a physical level. He could give her what she needed, and that made him feel like a better man. “Rest. I’ll wake you when it’s time to leave.” He pressed a kiss head just as her eyes closed. Yesterday had been way too close. With one click, everything had changed. He hadn’t told her that the crime lab confirmed the word whore had been written in human blood on the tablecloth at the gala. Forensics was trying to see if it matched any other recent samples, but that would take time. The act of leaving her a message in blood was personal and one that left him unsettled. He didn’t want to let her out of his sight.
Feelings for Sasha that were too fast to be rational or sane cemented in his soul. The image of her lying on the ground unmoving beneath him froze him from the inside out. Maybe he hadn’t known her long, but when they were together, he was content in a way he’d never felt before. Her quiet strength amazed him. She’d seen her incredible paintings torn to shreds, the ugly word written on the table cloth. She’d lifted her chin, eyes simmering with gut-stirring rage, and then rationally assured the hospital liaison that it wasn’t her fault. Then she went a step further and wanted to immediately replace what was ruined, or write a check to support the families of children in the hospital. He didn’t know of another person who could have that type of control in such a position.
His entire life had been spent thinking he was so traumatized by his parent’s detrimental relationship that he could never be emotionally attached to a woman he was romantically involved with. Then he’d seen Sasha, and it was like a sharp jab to the solar plexus. One that rattled all those forbidden feelings loose. He’d risked his career and his sterling ethics and unbiased reputation to be inside her, to love her. Without a doubt, he’d risk it all again.
****
Two hours later, Gus pulled into his driveway. Damn, he was happy to be home. Happy to have Sasha in the passenger seat beside him after he’d spent an eternity trying to convince her that his house was a safe place for her to recuperate, at least for one night. She’d want her own space, her own things, but at least he could keep a close eye on her tonight. The added benefit of having her here was Jules could watch over her if he got called into the station. Right now, Wright and Nilsson were picking up the slack because he’d been injured, but he needed to have his boots on the ground, trying to uncover who was behind the cases. Even though he was reluctant to leave Sasha’s side, his mind was restless. What if someone tried to attack again?
“Do you really think this is necessary?” Sasha scanned the driveway.
“After everything that’s happened? Yeah. I do.” Pressing the automatic garage opener, he pulled his car in beside his sister’s and killed the engine. He ran his hand over his cropped hair, then angled his body to face her. “Maybe it’s overkill, but I’d feel a hell of a lot better if you’d stay close.”
She searched his face, and after a moment, cleared her throat. “Thanks for having my back. For caring.”
“You make it easy.” She was already coursing through his blood and settling deep inside his bones. Protecting her wasn’t a choice, it was as natural as drawing his next breath.
The door connecting the garage to the house burst open, and he hovered his hand over the Glock attached at his hip, steadying when he saw Jules leaning her head out. The breath whooshed out of him. He was on edge.
“Come on, guys! I made lasagna.” Jules glowed with delight, hair sitting in a messy knot on the top of her head, oven mitt still on one hand.
“I’ve bored her to death all these years. She’s ecstatic to have a female presence in the house for once.” A low chuckle broke from his lips. Did Sasha hear the nerves bubbling through the laughter? He’d worked odd jobs and overtime until he’d been able to afford the down payment to move from an apartment to a house. The cozy Cape Cod-style home represented a new beginning and a safe, stable haven. It wasn’t anything lavish, but it was comfortable and well-maintained. The force of how important Sasha’s acceptance of their home was struck him hard.
“So, you really haven’t brought a woman home before?” Her eyes widened before she concealed her expression of surprise.
“No.” He leveled his gaze. “I don’t sleep around. I’ve never met someone on the job.” It had never crossed his mind. Had never been a temptation.
“Why me?” She swallowed but kept her eyes locked on his.
“The pull was too great to stay away.” The curve of her cheek was so soft beneath the pad of his thumb. The air in the car thinned, and he was breathless as he watched the passion ignite in the dark ocean of her eyes, so blue he could drown in the depths.
She pressed a hand to his chest, his pulse a loaded magazine firing off in rapid succession. “That first night I was beyond terrified,” she admitted. “Looking into your eyes grounded me as you wrapped the cut on my hand. You were so gentle. So patient when the panic took over. I thought of you, of that look in your eyes a lot after that night.”
“When I discovered the chain broken on the bunker, I thought The Hulk must’ve stumbled upon the victim—then I remembered the tiny footprints in the dirt and was confused. Now that I know you, I’m not surprised at all you were able to break the chains. You’re small in size, but you have this inner strength that has me in total awe. You were standing by the ambulance, that shock of red hair easy to spot through the crowd, and it was like being kicked in the gut. You knocked my flat on my ass.”
“I wish things were different.” Sasha swallowed hard. “But there’s nothing that can come of this. You’d be risking your career, and I’d be risking my sanity staying up all night worrying when you had a call. I’ve already lost so many people that I care about. I can’t take that chance again.”
