Page 51 of Peak’s Code

“I’ll file one later,” she grumbled.

“Captain has a suggestion box,” he offered.

Maeve giggled against his chest. “You’re lying,” she breathed.

“He absolutely does.” A sleepy smile tugged at her mouth, and Peak felt something tighten beneath his ribs. He had seen Maeve smile before. Usually, it was sharp or defiant, a weapon she used when she wanted someone to underestimate how afraid or angry she was. This smile wasn’t like that. This one belonged to him. He knew it was a dangerous thought, but he let himself have it anyway.

Maeve seemed to realize how close they were, and the humor faded from her eyes as awareness moved between them. Peak waited for her to pull away, but she didn’t. Her gaze drifted over his face, lingering on his mouth before returning to his eyes. He felt the weight of everything they had shared during the night—the vulnerability and hunger that he felt. He remembered the way that she trusted him. He didn’t regret any of it, but he was less certain about how Maeve felt.

“You okay?” he asked. Maeve’s expression changed slightly. The shift was so subtle another man might have missed it. Peak noticed everything about her.

“I’m fine,” she lied.

“That’s a lie,” he said, calling her out.

“Yes, but it’s at least an answer,” she insisted.

“It’s a bad one.”

She looked down at where her hand still rested against his chest. “I don’t do things like this.”

“Wake up in motel rooms?” he asked.

“Let people get too close.” Peak remained quiet because she needed space to say whatever came next. He knew better than to rush her. Maeve traced one finger over the fabric covering his chest, seemingly unaware of the movement. “I haven’t been with anyone since Wren disappeared.”

Peak’s jaw tightened, not from jealousy but from the pain beneath the confession. “That’s a long time to be alone.”

“I didn’t notice the loneliness at first.” He didn’t believe that, and she must have seen it in his face. “Okay,” she amended. “I noticed. I just convinced myself it was better that way.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because people become leverage.” The answer came too easily. He could tell that it was something she had repeated to herself many times. “If I cared about someone, they could be used against me. If someone cared about me, they could get hurt.” Peak thought about the attack on the clubhouse and the prospects who were currently in the hospital because of it. He thought about his shop being searched, and he understood why she believed it.

“That still true?” he asked.

Maeve lifted her gaze. “Yes.” He hadn’t expected honesty to hurt that much. She must have seen something cross his face because her hand tightened against his chest. “That’s what scares me,” she said.

Peak frowned. “What does?”

“You.” He didn’t speak. “You’re already involved,” she continued. “Your club is involved. People have been shot. Your clubhouse was nearly destroyed. And instead of keeping your distance, you brought me here.”

“Captain ordered me to bring you here.”

“You would have done it anyway.”

He couldn’t lie to her. “Yes.”

Maeve looked toward the covered window. “Last night made everything worse.”

Peak’s body went rigid. He tried to keep his voice even. “Do you regret it?”

She looked at him sharply. “No.” The answer came without hesitation, and some of the tension left his chest.

“Then how did it make things worse?” he asked.

“Because before last night, I could tell myself you were helping me because of the club,” she said.

“You knew better than that,” he said.