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“About them.” Again he nods at his pets. “Dex and Batman.”
“Tell me.”
He hesitates, his shoulders tensing. “If anything happens to me,” he whispers, “will you take care of them?”
I put my mug on the counter, my heart thumping frantically against my ribs. “Why would anything happen to you? What aren’t you telling me?”
He won’t meet my gaze. “I just need to know they’ll be fine, Pax.”
“Come on.” I fold my arms over my breasts and stick my chin out at him. “I thought we were past that, that we were honest with each other. No more secrets. Something’s got you spooked and thinking you may not come back. That—” My voice threatens to break and I draw a hasty breath. “That’s not a random thought, is it?”
He swings his gaze up, and the raw honesty in it undoes me. “I love you, Pax.” He reaches a hand up to my face, then slides it around the back of my head and pulls me to him. “I’m yours, no matter what. But I know this isn’t easy for you with my job, or even possible, and on top of that...maybe you shouldn’t. Being with me could be dangerous.”
“So that’s why?” We’re so close our lips are almost touching. “Why you ask this of me? Because of the guys who beat you up? You’re scared they’ll come back? You should report this to the police.”
“Shh.” He brushes his mouth over mine, soft and hot and intoxicating. “No, they won’t, and I can’t.”
“Can’t report them? Why?”
“It’s complicated.”
I shake my head. “You still haven’t told me what happened. What they wanted from you.”
“More than I could give. And yet I’ll give it.”
“Why are you giving me riddles?” I push on his chest, step away. “More riddles. Why can’t you give me truth for a change?”
“Fuck.” He turns and punches the cupboard with a resounding crack.
The sound reverberates in the kitchen as I jerk back, knocking into a chair. When I glance around, I see the pets have fled and are nowhere in sight.
My pulse echoes in my ears as I debate what to do. Tremors go through his broad back. He’s hunched over, breathing erratically, saying nothing. He looks like he’s in pain.
Maybe he is. That was a hell of a punch. There’s a dent in the cupboard door that I don’t remember seeing earlier, and is that blood?
Holy crap. He’s super strong.
What if he used that fist on me?
But he hasn’t. He wouldn’t. Not Riot.
After a moment, I walk up behind him, wrap my arms around his hips. “Hey…”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice ragged.
“It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry I can’t tell you. If you can’t promise to take care of the boys, I’ll ask someone else, but I just...I trust you. I’d rather it be you. If you say you’ll do it, I’ll believe you and won’t worry about them.”
“I promise. Of course I promise. I’ll take care of them.”
And I mean it.
***
“Why didn’t you answer your cell these past two days?” We’re sitting at the kitchen table and I’m cleaning with antiseptic his busted knuckles. “The agency said they called you plenty of times. Gale, too.”
“That where you got my address?”
