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“I will, woman. We’ll be out of this mess before you know it. Fucking count on it.” I kiss her again, these strange, crazy words boiling up from my gut. “I’m not drawing my last breath till you’re wearing my ring and we’ve got a couple kids in the family portrait.”
Her mouth trembles.
Her eyes crest with tears.
Only, this time there’s a smile behind her sadness, and that’s what I worship with my lips. I let her cry as we kiss for the better part of the next hour.
I never thought I’d ever be this happy making out like this, never even advancing to full-on horizontal heaven.
I think she believes me, too.
She’s had her faith in us restored, our future so sure—until there’s a fist banging at the door and gruff voices shouting.
“San Francisco PD! Open up!”
“Police!”
Shit.
It sure took them long enough.
We share one last long, agonizing look as I give her a parting kiss.
Then I take her soft hand in mine and we stand, walking together to face down one annoying bump in the road to ever after.
* * *
We sayour last goodbyes through a window at the police station.
Delia walks past the room where they’re holding me first, a sour-looking Bruce a few steps ahead of her. First time I’ve seen her old man showing more emotion than a steamed turnip.
An hour later, I’m released to Sexton, who’s waiting outside in his old brown pickup. Guess it only took a call from the FBI agent working with Enguard to convince the boys with badges I’m too important to waste away in the drunk tank.
He drives me straight to the office and tells me he’s made arrangements to have my truck taken to a trusted chop-shop to fix the damage from crashing the gate.
It won’t be cheap, especially owing Bruce some damages on top of it.
Never thought I’d look forward to hazard pay.
“Tell me you’ve got it out of your system?” he asks once we’re in the meeting room, waiting for the rest of the team to go over logistics.
I look at him and shrug.
Sex grimaces with a sigh. “You know why I’m asking, Triton. If you want to think with your dick on your own time, that’s your business. If it risks tripping you up on the operation...”
He stops and stares at me.
“Sex, I’m solid. It’s one more reason to get this shit over with so I can come home.”
“And what, pray tell, are you coming home to?”
My mouth pulls open, but I can’t find the words.
I’m not sure why he’s so persistent. It’s not like him to crawl up anyone’s ass over something this personal, however dumb it seems.
“Exactly,” he whispers. “Here’s a nickel of free advice—switch off and forget her while you’re in Mexico. Forget about your mother and whatever other problems that’ll still be here staring you in the face when you get back. The stakes are too high to risk having your mind anywhere else.”
“Don’t know if I can,” I admit harshly.
