“He scared you.”
“He was creepy,” I admitted. “But I’m okay now.” I looked in his eyes and realized it was true. As corny as it sounded, I was okay now because Evan was beside me.
“I saw you talking to Kevin.”
“Lucky me.”
“Everything okay there, too?”
I nodded. What was I going to say? That I’d realized I was terrified for him and, oh, by the way, I might be falling in love with him, too? I settled for, “Yeah. Everything’s fine. He saw me talking to Larry, too.”
I met his eyes, and though he only nodded, I knew he understood my unspoken message: Be careful. Please, please be careful.
“What else did he say?”
“He said that he missed me.”
“I see.” I saw the vulnerability in his eyes, and I had to bite back a gasp as a sudden realization shook me. Evan might be everything that Kevin accused him of. He might be dangerous as hell. But right then, I had the power to hurt him.
I reached out and brushed my thumb over his lip. “I told him that I didn’t miss him at all,” I said.
He held my eyes for what felt like eternity. I saw relief there. And I saw what I wanted to believe was love.
After a moment, he blinked. “I need to take care of something,” he said gently, and though I didn’t ask, I had a feeling that Larry was the reason for this change in plans. “It shouldn’t take long. Wait for me at the boat?”
My smile felt watery. “I think I’ll go home instead,” I said. I wanted to be on familiar ground with my thoughts.
Evan eyed me cautiously. “You’re sure everything is okay?”
I leaned close and kissed him hard and slow and deep. “Everything’s fine. My dad emailed over a bunch of pictures of condos. I should look at them, you know.”
His expression hardened. “Sure. He’s probably expecting your reply.”
“Come over later?”
“As soon as I can.”
“Good,” I said.
“I’ll have Red take you home. I’ll ride with Cole.”
The drive only took a few minutes, and I was up the elevator, in the condo, and pouring a glass of wine in less than an hour. There was a message from Evan on my phone, and I realized he must have called in the short span of time when I had no service in the elevator.
“Change of plans. I have to fly to Indiana to take care of a few things, but I’ll be back tomorrow. Have a good day at work. I’ll be thinking of you.”
I carried my wine to bed and repeated his words in my head. I’d be thinking of him, too. About him. About threats and crimes and the FBI. About Washington.
And, yes. About flying.
I stayed awake as long as I could, fighting sleep. For the last few days, there’d been no nightmares. But tonight, without Evan beside me, I knew that they would come again. Salt-water scented dreams punctuated by the hollow screams of my sister. Dreams that reached out and grabbed me from sleep, so pernicious that they even followed me to work the next day where I sat, bleary-eyed at my desk, and tried to focus on Kat’s voice, tinny and thin over the phone.
“Kevin’s a prick,” she was saying. “He’s just flashing his badge around so he can feel like a badass.”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” I’d told her about Kevin, but not about Larry. “But I don’t want to think about Kevin at all.” I sighed. “I still haven’t heard from Evan today. I need a distraction. Want to grab a drink? Flynn’s working tonight. We could go harass him at the bar.”
“Sounds like fun. See you there around eight?”
“Perfect.”
I left a message for Flynn as soon as I got home from work telling him to expect us that evening. And then, since I had a couple of hours to kill before I changed and headed to the saloon, I decided to take a sketchpad and a glass of wine and head up to the patio.
I was sketching Evan’s face from memory when the intercom on the bar buzzed, followed by Peterson’s cultured voice. “Mr. Black is here. May I send him up?”
I pushed the button to reply. “He’s here? Or he’s on the phone?”
“He’s standing right in front of me.”
My pulse quickened. “Send him up.” I stood and started pacing. I was so damn eager that I felt like a fool. He’d been gone less than twenty-four hours, and I felt like he’d been away for a year.
In other words, I had it bad.
In other words, in about a week, I was going to be royally screwed.
Dangerous. Yeah. Evan Black was as dangerous as they came.
I heard him push open the door, and I sprinted that direction, only to skid to a stop when he emerged, looking relaxed and windblown and sexy as hell.
I wanted to stand there and soak in the wonder of him. I wanted this moment, when it was just the two of us, and no secrets and no threats.
Then he held out his arms and I collapsed into them, overwhelmed by the sudden, inescapable feeling that this was like coming home.
Except it was only an illusion.
I knew the surface of his secrets, but only what he’d revealed to me and only as an allegory. And while I’d been telling myself that was okay since I was leaving—that it was for the best, even—the truth was I wanted more. I wanted so much more.
Because I’d realized that it wasn’t the fantasy I’d spun about Evan Black that gave me that thrill I craved so much—it was the man himself. His presence, his humor, his tenderness. Even his secrets.
And all I wanted in that moment was to know him. To really and truly know him.