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They’d had a string of moderately warm days, but not enough that Alexa had forgotten how brutal the cold could be in Boston. She could still conjure the bone-deep chill, the way her leg ached almost constantly, the impenetrable darkness of winter mornings and nights. She’d gotten used to only seeing the sun during her drive from the gym to work in the mornings, and the evening sun leaking into the room felt like the greatest kind of luxury.
Well, maybe not the greatest.
That would be the man lying next to her, his hand stroking her hair, his body spent from their lovemaking.
Imani’s words echoed in her head, the fact that Alexa had promised to follow up with the investigator casting a pall over the moment. Nick Murphy’s attentiveness to her body and heart might be a luxury, but it was also a risk, and that was something she wouldn’t be able to deny much longer.
She silently cursed herself. Why had she authorized the investigation? Why hadn’t she stopped it when she had a chance?
But even as the questions played out in her mind, she knew the answer: because she had to know the truth about the man she was falling in love with. She hadn’t survived as long as she had — hadn’t accomplished all that she had — by hiding from the truth.
She’d faced it head-on, even when it hurt.
She’d done it after the accident when she’d had to face the fact that her best friend had died while Alexa had lived and she’d done it when the doctors told her she might not walk again. She’d faced it during years of physical therapy, sweat streaming down her face while she forced herself through the exercises that were her only chance at recovery.
She couldn’t hide from the truth now. Not even for Nick.
“What are you thinking about, beautiful?” His voice echoed through his chest under her ear.
“Nothing.” She sighed. “Everything.”
He tightened his hold on her and murmured into her hair. “I know.”
It was no less complicated for Nick, who hadn’t told his brothers, who hadn’t told anyone, that they’d been seeing each other. While she dodged the truth at work, Nick dodged it at home, because what could he say?I’m dating the woman who might ruin us? Who might send us all to jail?
Her chest tightened with dread. She could be responsible for Nick going to jail, for his brothers going to jail, for Ronan’s wife, Julia, raising their baby alone after it was born.
It wasn’t anything new. Sending people to jail was part of her job. She’d never enjoyed it, had always remembered that there were real people attached to the names in her files, that even when they’d committed crimes, they had husbands and wives and children and parents.
But she’d taken solace in the law, in the irrefutable nature of its necessity. As unpleasant as it was, enforcing the law kept everyone safe.
The argument felt thin with Nick’s warm body next to her.
“I think I got a new lead on the Walkers,” he said.
She sat up to look at him, glad he was returning to safer ground. Her accident and the possible coverup that had ensued after the hit-and-run wasn’t a pleasant subject, but it was straightforward at least.
The facts were inarguable: the person who had crashed into her and Samantha that night had left them for dead. There had been no witnesses on the road — a main artery through the city — and no CCTV footage of the car that had hit them. One of the detectives on the case had retired, then died. The other had been rapidly promoted and then had monthly meetings with Leland Walker at a tony restaurant in Back Bay.
Those were the facts, and the facts screamed cover-up. Years at the AG's office had taught her not to ignore her instincts.
“What kind of lead?” She clutched the sheet to her breasts out of habit. Nick always told her she was beautiful as he traced her scars with his fingers and tongue, but old habits died hard.
“I had one of our guys dig through the records of Frederick Walker’s employees, hoping for a hit on someone who was no longer in his employ,” Nick said.
“Where did you get the records?” she asked.
“Let’s just say I’m using the word ‘records’ loosely.”
She bit her lip. MIS would have digital forensics resources even if the media reports were wrong about the company, even if it really was a perfectly legal investigative and intelligence agency.
But that didn’t mean the methods were legal. The laws surrounding private data and surveillance were complex and evolving by the day.
He smiled. “Stop.”
“What?”
“Take off your lawyer hat for a minute, Lex.” She loved when he called her Lex. Only her mother had ever used the nickname. It felt personal. Intimate. “This is about you.”
