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Now both my eyebrows point down in suspicion. “And why would I trust you to cover for me, to lie to the cops while I’m hidden in the back and can’t hear what you’re saying?”
Connie frowns like she doesn’t even understand my question. “Um, because if we make a deal, it’s like making a promise. And I don’t break promises. I’ve never broken a promise in my entire life. I have a perfect record of never breaking a promise, and I’m not going to mess that up. It would drive me nuts if I ended my perfect streak of keeping every promise.”
“I’ll bet itwoulddrive you nuts, wouldn’t it,” I mutter, rubbing my jaw and narrowing my eyes as I study Connie’s earnest expression, see a childlike determination beneath which I sense her almost manically obsessive need to be perfect, to be a good girl. That seems to fit with the surprising revelation that she’s never had sex before, and as I feel the puzzle-pieces fit together, bringing me closer to solving the mystery of this intriguing woman, again I get that dangerously disarming sense that we’re partners, working together, on the same side, us against the world.
And it’s never been like that before.
It’s always been me against the world.
Me alone against the world.
Has it been like that for Connie too?
Alone against the world?
Alone in her own world?
I think back to her habit of talking out her thoughts—something that happens to inmates stuck in solitary. How longdid this sweetheart spend alone with just her thoughts when she was little?
And, more importantly, is shestillalone?
Suddenly that possessive beast in me raises its jealous head, growling at the very suggestion that there might be a man in Connie’s life, a rival that needs to be put down, an enemy that needs to be defeated so I can claim this pussy as my prize.
The thoughts are vivid, vicious, savage. It takes me several long moments to still the raging beast that’s pumping my cock full of hot blood. Somewhere in the back of my swirling mind I remember that I already have an enemy, and his name is Padraig Kieran. I’m only going to stick around the Boston area long enough to put him down. Then I’m gone like dust in the wind, far away from here.
And far away from her.
Because she’s making me feel things that scare me to the core.
Making me feel like fate is real, like destiny is real.
Like maybe even love is real.
“Are you listening, Mister Convict?” comes Connie’s voice through my blood-red daydream. “Sorry. I don’t know your name.”
“Xavier,” I say absentmindedly as I blink myself back into focus, wondering if I’m losing my grip on reality, if three days without food and then the exhausting escape after killing that Irish assassin is now taking its toll. But the sugar from her cookies has got my brain awake and alert, and so far Connie’s been making sense. Which means maybe I should listen. “All right. I’m listening. You always keep your promises, and a deal is like a promise, so if we make a deal, I can trust you to cover for me when the cops question you and want to search your truck. Got it. But even if I do trust you to cover for me, what do you want from me in return? There’s no way I’m letting you goanytime soon, not until I’m done with Kieran and ready to leave the Boston area.”
Connie frowns briefly at the mention of the name Kieran, then brightens in that plasticky way, forcing a smile and shaking her head. “Understood. I’m not asking you to let me go right away. All I want in return is for you to let me make my deliveries to Bloom Foods today, then open my store for Valentine’s Day business.” She thinks a moment, then flashes a little smile. “Well, I also need you to not kill me. Which kind of goes without saying, because if I’m dead, those deliveries don’t get made and the store doesn’t open. Unless you do all those things for me after killing me. Which would be silly. Why would you drive around town with my dead body and make all my deliveries and then open my store? That’s just—”
“OK, you’re doing it again. Please stop.” I groan, waving my hands in the air to stop her from babbling like a runaway train. “Got it. Not killing you is part of my end of the deal.” The stifled grin breaks halfway on my face because she’s so disarmingly cute, so wonderfully surprising, so insanely intriguing.
And so fucking mine.
“So, do we have a deal?” Connie asks, that childlike excitement bright in her eyes again. “I cover for you with the cops. We make my morning deliveries, open my store for the day. And you don’t kill me. Oh, shit, and you also don’t . . . um . . .” That alarmed expression streaks across her face now as her gaze flicks down to my unmistakable erection. “You also don’t . . . don’t dothatto me.”
A low growl emerges from my throat when I notice her gaze linger on my obscenely tented crotch. There’s a hint of curiosity in Connie’s innocent blue eyes, a subtle way in which her body stiffens, her fingers curling into tight little fists by her sides. She stares for a long moment, then gasps softly like she just realized she was staring.
Quickly she blinks and looks up.
But it’s too late.
Our gazes meet, and we both know she was caught staring.
Connie turns the brightest red I’ve ever seen, almost collapsing in mortified embarrassment. She touches her hair and scratches her eyebrow and adjusts the collar of her sweatshirt and rubs the back of her neck and shifts in her sneakers. I look directly into her eyes, hold the gaze and let the tension crackle in the air. Then I grunt and let her off the hook.
“I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to do, sweetheart,” I say as coolly as I can, even though there’s a burning edge to my tone that I can’t hide, that growling beast feeding on the electric energy between us. “Yeah, we got a deal,” I say, glancing down at my orange jumpsuit, then back up at my new partner. “And since I’m going to be trusting you to cover for me when the cops arrive, I suppose I can trust you to go back into that gas station and see if you can find me some new clothes? They should have some Boston Red Sox or New England Patriots gear in there. You’ll have to pay for it, though.”
Connie blinks twice, then smiles brightly. “Actually, I’ve got two cartons of my custom pink hoodies and black track pants right here in the truck. Was going to see if Bloom Foods will let me set up a display of my branded gear next to the cookies. Bet I can find an XXXL hoodie and extra-long track pants. Here, let me get them for you.”
