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He glanced over her shoulder, saw that the receptionist was trying to watch them without being obvious. “I must go,” he said, fearful that Division would soon have the same information about Caris’s whereabouts that he held in his pocket. “But I believe there is the matter of a wager between us. I will collect.”
She shook her head. “Luke, please. Don’t. Don’t press me.”
“Why not?” He moved closer, drawn in by the heat of her, the desire that emanated from her. She was denying him, yes. But her heart wasn’t in it.
“Because I want to,” she admitted, her voice small but her words running through him like a song.
“Sara—”
“No.” She shook her head, her voice firm, and he sensed the resolve within her. “This isn’t about my father. I want you to know that. I understand that you were following orders, and that my battle isn’t with you.”
Relief flooded him. “Thank you. That my actions hurt you—Sara, that has been a burden I’ve carried as long as you have.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
She nodded. “I really do.”
“And you forgive me?”
“It’s not on you, Luke. So there’s nothing to forgive.”
He saw the truth in her eyes, but also a fire that he feared would spark into revenge. “Be careful, Sara. My allegiance was and is with Tiberius. But the Alliance acted in unison to issue the order. Your father was a threat.”
“I know. And I’m not planning to take on the Alliance. I understand why they made the decision. I do. I just wanted you to know that I’ve been thinking about it. And there is no shadow of my father standing between us.”
“And yet?” he said, because he could practically see the words coming.
“And yet, whatever this is, I won’t encourage it. I wish—Never mind. But we can’t, and please don’t push me on it.”
“I cannot agree to that,” he said, “but neither can I argue about it now.”
She tilted her head, her brow crinkling with worry. “Tasha?”
“I must go.”
She reached for his hand, and the touch almost did him in. “I remembered what you told me, about having a daughter long ago. That’s what Tasha is to you now, isn’t she?”
“Sara…” Her name came out raw, gravelly with need. He wanted to pull her close, to have her soothe his fears. To lose himself in the simple pleasure of having her beside him.
He could do none of that, and he hated the circumstances that had brought them to this impasse.
He reached into his pocket, his fingers finding Livia’s gold serpent ring. He wanted to draw comfort from it, but comfort didn’t come. He feared that now that he’d met Sara, he would be soothed only by her touch.
“You’ll find her,” she said gently. “But, Luke,” she added, her voice now sharp with warning, “when you do, don’t run. It will be worse for you if you run.”
Despite his better judgment, he cupped his hand to her cheek, enjoying the shocked expression on the receptionist’s face. “My darling Sara,” he said. “Considering the PEC would have me dead, I cannot imagine how it could be worse. But I appreciate your warning nonetheless.”
He stepped away from her, moving toward the door. “We’ll speak again.”
“Ms. Constantine?” the receptionist called. “Mr. Leviathan’s assistant is on the line.” She held the phone out for Sara, and Luke stayed put, listening.
“There’s been another child found,” a woman said, her smooth voice marred with regret. “The task force requests that you go immediately to the scene.”
When Sara hung up, Luke was by her side.
“I’m going with you.”
