Page 87 of Playing With Love

Love was easy. It was freeing and nourishing and self-sacrificing.

Either my mother didn’t understand the meaning of love and taught her daughter love was conditional and came with pain and disappointment, or she loved my father unconditionally and in doing so didn’t see the damage her excuses had caused.

Neither were acceptable.

And as I stared into Tucker’s beautiful gray eyes, I was thinking he was just the man to teach me the right way to love. And I hoped to God it would take the rest of my days to learn.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

There had been times in my career I’d been briefed on a case and I knew going in it was going to go tits up. Other times, the fuck-up came later, leaving me scrambling to salvage a case. Then there were assignments that on paper looked straightforward. Nu Dawn should’ve been the latter—an easy in and out fact-finding mission. The takedown would come from the ATF and if no gun manufacturing was found on premises, the DEA could sweep in and Liza’s team would continue to look for who was supplying Mackenzie Archer with weapons.

Easy.

But there was a prickling at the back of my neck I couldn’t ignore. It had started as soon as we drove onto the compound. Something wasn’t right. We missed something. I knew it and in the ten minutes we’d been in Allyson’s house, that itch had turned into a persistent nagging I couldn’t ignore.

Without so much of a knock, Allyson’s front door swung open. Instinctively my hand went to my hip to draw my weapon. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Liza do the same. My hand dropped when a very pretty woman locked eyes on Allyson and exclaimed, “You’re home!”

Then she dissolved into tears.

Allyson rushed to the woman and pulled her in for a hug. I moved across the small space, tagged Liza’s hand, and pulled her to my side. She came willingly. One arm wrapped around my back, the other around my stomach, and she tucked herself close.

“I miss her so much,” the woman said through sniffles.

“So do I,” Allyson returned.

“I can’t believe she’s gone.”

“Neither can I.”

Liza’s arm tightened. I looked down to find her already looking up. Clear hazel eyes full of compassion and nothing else. The vestiges of our earlier conversation washed clean away. No remnants of the hurt her father had laid on her. No anger—just compassion for two women who were sharing grief over the loss of their friend. The woman in my arms had no idea how strong she truly was. Real strength had nothing to do with staying on your feet when shit was falling apart around you. It wasn’t about dusting yourself off or finding your feet to fight another day. It wasn’t about finding your way back to the light. It was what you did while you were on your knees while the darkness encroached. It was character. It was empathy and compassion. It was what you did when all was lost—that was the true sign of strength.

Less than an hour ago, Liza had sustained a blow, had no time to process it yet there she was setting aside her burden—not for work, not because she was on a job, to right a wrong. To ensure more lives didn’t get ruined by the poison Mackenzie was putting on the streets, to stop the pain these women were feeling from happening again.

That was her.

Selfless in her pursuit of justice. Which had me wondering, how many times did she have to shove aside her own worries, pain, and fatigue with no one at her side to help her carry the burden? How many times did she have a similar conversation with her father that left her reeling and in pain with no one there to guide her to the understanding the man who sired her was a piece of shit, and moreover, dead wrong? How many times had my Liza endured her father’s abuse only to apologize to him—all her life, probably hundreds of times, probably more than she remembered. I’d heard it once and once was too many. That would be the one and only time that asshole spoke to Liza in that manner in front of me. It would also be the last time—period.

My woman was exhausted. She was tired. She was scared. She was heartsore. She needed help eradicating the demons her father had left her with. Luckily for her, I knew a thing or two about the damage a father could inflict. I couldn’t say I didn’t have my moments of doubt when the darkness crept in, and there was still a tinge of worry that I had bits and pieces of my father in me. I hadn’t lived my life as a monk, nor had I ever committed to a woman. Nonetheless, that had more to do with me not wanting to be tied down due to my job.

But two years ago, I made the decision it was time and admitted to myself that part of never committing was also due to being in love with Liza. I hadn’t had a woman since. I’d been faithful to a ghost. For years, I’d been in a monogamous, committed non-relationship with a woman I loved but who had left me without explanation. If that wasn’t a fuck you to my father’s DNA, I didn’t know what was.

I was not him, and staring down at Liza, I knew with absolute certainty I never would be. The woman in my arms would never feel the pain of my betrayal. And she’d never again feel the sting of her father’s words.

She’d taken my hand, given me her trust, and I’d see to it that she knew through and through she was safe with me. Safe to be who she was, who she wanted to be, and she’d be that for the rest of her life.

I would work myself to the bone; on my knees, in the darkness, whenever and however that needed to happen until she knew her worth—knew she was worthy of love, mine, and everyone else’s besides. She’d understand she’d earned the respect of those around her. She’d understand what loyalty, trust, and honesty truly felt like.

“Tucker?” Liza whispered with a tinge of trepidation.

I dropped my mouth to her ear. She tilted her head, giving me better access, and in that moment I wished we were alone. I’d rather show her than tell her, but for now this would have to do.

“Made you a promise earlier. I’m taking that back; everything’s not going to be okay.” I felt her body stiffen in my arms and vowed that one day she wouldn’t brace for the worst. “Okay doesn’t touch what I’m going to give you, what we’re going to have. It’s not going to be okay, it’s going to be everything you need. We’re going to build a beautiful life, baby. You and me, we’re gonna have it all. That’s my promise. For the rest of your life, all you’re gonna get from me is beauty, and you’re gonna give that back to me and the family we create.”

I lifted my head away, uncurled her fingers from the death grip she had on my tee, and brought her left hand up to my mouth. I kissed the gold band she’d slid onto her finger that morning. The matching band on my left hand.

Fake rings for a fake marriage.

One day soon she would take off the fake ring and I’d replace it with mine. And she sure as fuck wasn’t putting it on herself in the lobby of a hotel. I’d slide it on her finger and there it would stay. She’d give me her gold and one day I’d be put into the dirt wearing her love.