She flew into Grey’s arms and stayed there for a few blissful seconds, appreciating the gentle firmness in his embrace, his large hands pressed against her back, holding her close.
Their kiss was filled with love and desire and everything good.
She tugged him inside, shut the door, and peered into his eyes. Something was definitely off. Clasping his hand, she led him into the kitchen where the lights under the counter allowed her to better see him.
“I’m happy to see you,” she said. “I’m glad you came over.”
“Me too.” He removed the Kevlar, groaning as he lifted his arms.
“You were hit, weren’t you?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Show me.”
He lifted his shirt. “How’s it look?”
After flipping on the kitchen light, she said, “It’s turning black and blue.” She offered him an ice pack, but he waved it away.
“Are you in pain?”
“I’m good.”
He opened her kitchen cabinets, found a glass, filled it with water, and guzzled it down.
“Hungry?” she asked.
“No.”
He set down the glass, raked his hands through his long hair and fixed his gaze on her. “We gotta talk.”
“Okay.”
He clasped her hand, walked into the living room. “I did a bad thing.”
A tremble skirted through her as she eased onto the sofa. He sat beside her, looked straight ahead. “My cousin and my uncle are dead.”
Her gaze floated over his face, the torment in his eyes surprising her. She ran a comforting hand down his back. “What did you want to happen tonight?”
He stared straight ahead for a long minute. When he faced her, hatred billowed from his eyes. Had she fallen in love with a cold-blooded killer? Was he a vigilante? Was this a revenge hit?
“I needed my uncle to fess up to my brothers that he murdered our dad.” Grey shook his head. “He didn’t.”
“Okay,” she said. “And you’re angry because the truth died with him?”
“I lost out on sixteen years with my brothers, with Elsa, because I was too afraid to stand up to that monster. He gotaway with murder. Just denial, then death. Did we give him the easy way out?”
He pushed off the sofa, stared out the window into the night. Rather than go to him, she remained seated and pondered her answer.
“What you perceive as beinginthe way,wasthe way,” she said. “Until you moved itoutof the way.”
He turned, his brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”
“You’re where you’re supposed to be, not by accident, but because this is your life. It wasn’t what you thought or even wanted, but it had to be this way.” She joined him at the window, staring out into the darkness. “You know the truth. You made a life for yourself that would never have happened if you’d stayed. Most likely, your uncle would have killed you to keep you from talking. You’ve got great parents and a career that most would envy or be in awe over. You left a scared teen, returned a man who righted a wrong.” Then, she shot him a little smile. “The Santini Way.”
He stared at her, his gaze rolling from her eyes to her mouth, her hair, then back into her eyes. “You’re too smart for me.”
She chuckled. “Yeah, so I’m definitely not that. Sometimes we get resolution, but most times we don’t. Life is messy and complicated. It’s impossible to know if you would have won against your uncle if he’d been arrested. If you lost, that would have been devastating for you, for your family. If you decided to take him out then, you could have gotten arrested.” She ran soft fingers down his cheeks and whiskers. “What would have happened to me? I’d have had you, then lost you to prison.”
