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I texted Gunner because this called for reinforcements. I knew he’d help, just like I knew Lucius might never forgive me for this. But I’d rather have him alive and not speaking to me than dead.
Once in Chicago, Santino took me to a motel that resembled the after picture of a hurricane. Parts of the roof were missing, and the paint had mostly peeled off. There was debris and unidentifiable brown sludge in a pool off to the side.
Ignoring the cockroaches and trash littering the hallways, I followed Santino to a room in the darkest corner of the place. He knocked with three quick raps and then opened the door.
My breath faltered, and then I glimpsed movement past Santino’s bulky form.
“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling you for hours,” Lucius ground out.
Unperturbed, Santino shrugged. “I brought you a present.”
He stepped to the side, and I was finally looking at Lucius. But he didn’t resemble my Lucius. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days—not that this was unusual, but he had a haggard appearance he’d never had before—and he hadn’t shaved in days. His eyes were dull, his clothes wrinkled. Gone were the suits, replaced by shorts and a T-shirt.
I think he must have forgotten what the weather was like in Chicago. Or maybe he didn’t care.
“Lucius.” His name passed my lips in a pained whisper.
Lucius’s head whipped around to Santino. “What the fuck is she doing here? Are you out of your mind?”
“My mind isn’t the one in question here. I’ll be back in an hour.” Santino pushed me into the messy room and closed the door behind him as he left.
We stood in charged silence. Lucius stared at me, his hands opening and closing into fists as if he were trying to hold himself back. I was all out of words, having used up all my courage for the night. Or early morning, since dawn was breaking through.
“You should go home. Santino had no right to drag you into this.”
I flinched. Those were not the first words I’d imagined he’d say to me when we saw each other again.
His jaw muscles worked overtime, but he said nothing else.
I could do this. Ihadto do this. For Lucius. For us.
If therewasstill an us.
“I won’t let you go on a suicide mission.”
He shook his head. “Not your choice. And I know what I’m doing.”
I shakily stood my ground, wondering how I could get through to him. Before I could talk myself out of it, I walked up to him. His eyes were flitting from me to the door like a cornered animal.
“What are you doing?” Confusion replaced his anger. And that I could work with.
In answer, I leaped at him and hung on. His arms automatically came around me. Before he could protest, I sealed my mouth to his, taking what I’d longed for so desperately.
His hold tightened, the kiss turning into a frenzy of teeth and tongues. It was anything but refrained. It was real, it was messy, and it was what I needed at that moment. We dropped onto the bed on our sides, Lucius holding on to me so tightly my ribs were aching.
He buried his face in my hair. “Fuck, I missed you.”
I held him to me, breathing in his familiar scent, relishing the feel of his arms around me. “Not as much as I missed you.”
He leaned back but thankfully didn’t let me go. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe.”
“Are you not with me in this room?”
My question made him lift his head. “Of course I am. Why?”
“There’s nowhere safer than with you.”
My conviction was absolute, and there was nothing he could say to change my mind.
