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His mouth on mine doesn’t feel screwed up, though I know parts of it are. We still need to talk through everything that happened and why he lied. That seems less important than why he wants to marry me. Uncertainty makes my stomach clench.
“You really want to marry me?” I whisper as he pulls away.
The Cross brothers are strong and powerful, but right now, Declan is doing this for me. He wouldn’t do this for anything else. All the emotions of the past forty-eight hours run across his face again. So much fear that echoes my own.
“I need you to.” It’s strange to hear so much vulnerability from him.
Declan and his brothers don’t seem like they would need anything. They’re the kind of men who can take it for themselves. But Declan needs this from me. “I need to know you still love me and that you’ll be here tomorrow. I need you to know how badly I need you, and want you, and how committed I am to you.”
He starts to sit up straighter and I know he’s leaving. But I also know I won’t be okay until we address what happened. I can’t just leave it be. It’ll fester and I can’t have those thoughts coming back.
He said he had to go, but I can’t stop the sentence from rising to my lips. “What happened in that hotel room—”
“Braelynn, I was never going to hurt you.” Declan closes his eyes, just for a second, and when he opens them again, the depths of his pain reach the darkness in his eyes. “I could never hurt you, let alone kill you, or let anyone else touch you.”
It’s a promise I’ve wanted for most of my life. Tears well up in my eyes, though I know it’s not fair to him. He has to leave. I blink them away so he doesn’t have to go wherever he’s going with this image of me in his mind. “Declan, I—”
“Just think about it, all right? Think about being my wife.” His fingers splay through my hair. “I love you.”
My heart races as it occurs to me that he truly loves me. This man, I think he really loves me. Declan presses one more kiss to my lips, then pushes off the bed and walks out of the room. He’s gone before I can say another word.
“I love you, too,” I whisper. He can’t hear it, but it feels more honest than to not say it back at all.
DECLAN
Apparently the dumb fuck cops work for a detective named Harold Mauer. Mr. Mauer is going to wish I never discovered that information from a cop at the station who works for me.
The scent of cigarettes is pungent. It reminds me of my father if I’m honest. The stack of discarded papers rustles as I step on them. It’s impossible to avoid now that the office is trashed. The floorboards creak above me, and I know Carter is still looking for anything and everything that may be hiding in the cop’s home.
The alarm is only disabled for another ten minutes but we won’t need it. We got what we came here for. What we spent all day planning.
I stare down at what I’ve found, praying it will end all of this. For Braelynn’s sake, I need it to end. Violently and swiftly if I have my way.
Carter’s boots appear and then his body is slowly revealed as he climbs down the stairs from the attic. Its access is in the office so it was worth a look.
He’s head to toe in black, jeans and a sweatshirt, just like the two of us. The moment I see his hands are empty, a feeling of hopelessness washes over me.
Even though my own hands are occupied.
“He’s still tailing them,” Jase says while looking at his phone.
Daniel is tailing our detective…who is tailing decoys. Tonight is certainly eventful.
“He just messaged?” Carter asks and Jase nods.
“Do you think Mauer will approach them?” I ask him even though I know Jase can’t know for sure. None of us can. This plan is risky in a number of ways.
The detective, who left his house unattended in order to tail the man he believes is me, hasn’t stopped sitting on our house since Braelynn got home. We had to get him away and while doing so, provide an alibi.
So one of our men and his girl, who happen to be wearing our clothes and resemble Braelynn and me, are doing us a favor right now and picking up a duplicate marriage license. Of course our lawyer is with them, accompanying the couple as Detective Mauer would imagine he’d do. I’m sure the detective is fucking fuming as he sits in the front seat of his SUV, watching a couple he couldn’t crack get married to prevent questions about each other. His cops can’t approach her since the files have been drawn against them, so he’s forced to do the dirty work.
It was Carter’s idea. Distract the detective and keep him away while we pilfer through his place.
It will only work if the detective doesn’t approach them. If he does, he’ll know it’s a setup. Our alibi will be non-existent. Tension rolls through my shoulders.
“How much time do we have until they head back?” I question as we walk downstairs, stepping over the broken glass of picture frames thrown off the walls. It didn’t take long to look behind every surface, nook, and cranny of this place.
His office is next, naturally.
