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I keep my arms loose around her waist. She carries the wear and tear of several rough days, but if you ask me, she still smells like sunshine. Feels like it, too. Warm and soft and worth holding onto. I do just that, then lay a kiss on her hair.
She smiles up. “What was that for?”
I shrug. “I wanted to.”
Her gaze moves past me, almost shyly. She’s never had the weathered look of her coworkers, and now I know why. She’s a grown woman with a nearly grown son. She’s been through immeasurable trauma, and yet…she’s young. Innocent in her own way. Inexperienced.
Am I the first man she’s kissed?
I think it could be so, and the responsibility to keep her safe and whole and unblemished overwhelms me.
Exactly how didIend up the man tasked with that job?
Mentally, I sigh, and take both of her hands. “You need to sleep.”
She nods. “That would be nice. I don’t know if I’ll be able though.”
I hold her again, stroking her back. While I feel her absorb the comfort like a dry sponge, I also feel strength. I smile into her hair. Hollieisstrong, and I know, when all this is behind her, she’s going to be stronger than ever. Cleaning house and dealing with business does that. I sense a new woman on the rise.
And I want to be there for the onward and upward journey.
Her fingers splay and move up my spine. Pulling away only enough to connect our eyes, she touches my cheek. “Thank you, John. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”
I palm some random strands from her face—but it’s her lips that have my attention. Her curves press against me. Kissing her would be easy. So would moving on to other things…
I shut my lips. I am some kind of protector, aren’t I?Who’s going to protect her from you, eh, Chavez?
Iwill, that’s who.
I sever the too-intense connection and step back. “Well, you should at least try.”
She studies me. “You need sleep, too.”
Yeah, I need a lot of things—and making Hollie Carpenter mine forever tops the list.
Chapter 30
John
“What exactly are you telling me, Finch?”
Across the booth, Cole Fincher, a former underling, taps his finger on a cup of iced tea. He doesn’t look remotely as he did on the last assignment he worked for me, a case that ended in a wild chase at the Greyhound bus station in El Paso a couple years ago. His hair is short and neat. His tattoos, never as prolific as some of my other guys’, are covered by a dress shirt. Today, he’s simply another businessman lunching at your average sandwich shop.
Walker, on the other hand, carries a hard edge no matter what he wears. Today especially. He stares, frowning, at the lid of the coffee cup he brought in with him.
The chair creaks as Finch leans into it, folding his bulked up arms. Clearly, the pup still hits the gym. “What I’m saying is, the more I nosed around, the clearer it became that this Boswell guy rides solo. He’s not connected to anybody, big players or small.”
“He’s a one-man shop?”
“Exactly.” Cole shrugs. “But he sells a lot, so if he’s not careful, he’ll run afoul of the big guys sooner rather than later.”
Tripp, stone-faced, vibes he’d rather be elsewhere. He didn’t even order a meal. “You concur, Walker?”
He jerks one sharp nod. “The guy’s a loser and a nobody—right now. But the locals should keep an eye on him. That could change.”
Elbows on either side of my wadded sandwich wrapper, I press my knuckles until they crack. So, if the guy’s riding solo, that sure narrows down the suspect pool for the vandalism and threats.
Makes me know all the better whose face needs to meet the end of my fist.
