“Yes.” His forehead drops to my shoulder, and he exhales a laugh.

  It makes me laugh, and the result is he glides out of my slippery core. “Oh, shit.” I exhale a snort, and he shakes his head looking down.

  “You should’ve told me.”

  “You might not have done it.”

  “Damn right.”

  “But I wanted you to do it.” Now I’m smiling, tracing my finger along the line of ink on his shoulder. “So I’m glad I didn’t tell you.”

  “I never want to hurt your sweet body.” His hands are on my waist, and I’m surrounded by him. I’m in heaven.

  “Good news, from what I understand, it shouldn’t ever hurt again now that we’ve done it.”

  He shakes his head, and I love it when he smiles. “What will I do with you?”

  “Hopefully a lot more of what you just did.” Reaching for my phone on the bedside table, I hold it above us. “I need to document this very important moment in my life.”

  “Hana,” he groans.

  “I’m a photographer, now stop being grumpy and smile at the camera.”

  “I’m not smiling at the camera.”

  “Then don’t.” I snuggle close to his shoulder, getting my cheek next to his. He’s looking away, so I kiss him. “At least look at it.”

  “Where do I look?” It’s more complaint than cooperation, but the glint in his eyes tickles my stomach.

  “Look at me.”

  He does, and I get one shot before he sits up quickly, discarding the used condom. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  In a sweep, he lifts me in his arms. I toss my phone on the bed before wrapping mine around his neck as he carries me to the bathroom. He walks to the back corner, sitting beside the sunken, jetted tub, and switches on the water. I expect him to leave me here while it fills, but he doesn’t.

  He stays with me on his lap, looking into my eyes. “If I’d known, I’d have tried to make it better for you.”

  Holding his neck, I think about this. “I’m not sure how you could’ve made it better. It was always going to hurt the first time.”

  His beard scuffs my skin as he kisses my neck. “I might have figured out a way to make it hurt less.”

  The water rises higher, and I tilt my head to the side, studying his face and wondering if it’s possible I’m in love with him. I’m pretty sure I am. How long have I been here?

  My voice is quiet, and I slide my thumb across his cheek. “I never believed I could have something wonderful.”

  His expression changes, and he looks down at my nude body in his arms. “I never knew to dream of you.”

  Brushing my nose against his, my smile melts into a happy kiss on his lips. “What happens now?”

  He kisses me briefly before lifting my legs and gently lowering me into the warm, swirling water. His expression is dark, and he doesn’t join me in the tub.

  “I don’t know.” It’s the last thing he says before leaving me to return to the bedroom.

  14

  Scar

  Her blood on the sheets changes me. Possession blazes inside me at the thought of what this means.

  Mine. Like a primitive drumbeat, it thuds with every beat of my heart.

  She gave this to me, but she has no idea what I’ve done, who is entangled in my past. She has no idea my connection to the man who hurt her. Even if I ended it, I’m worried she won’t understand. How can she understand, coming from her life of privilege, how little voice I had in my fate?

  Surviving the fire, regaining my strength, moving to America, even knowing Hutch all played a role in my ability to walk away. Saddest, but perhaps most fundamental, was my belief I had nothing to lose. I agreed with Victor–no one cared or would care for me, so when it got to the point I couldn't stomach anymore, I didn’t care if they assassinated me.

  Then she wobbled up that gravel driveway outside Hugh van Hamilton’s estate.

  We’ve got to have a serious conversation. Soon. I can’t do it with her in my tub buzzing with afterglow and asking me what next.

  Her blue eyes are so bright and trusting, she’s so open and ready to heal and grow together. What kind of bastard would I be to crush her still-damp wings with the truth?

  I need to unfold the story in a way that will help her understand my lack of choices, as I understood the choices she made. Life is not as straightforward as we want it to be. Desperation leads to all sorts of bad decisions.

  Carrying the soiled sheets to my laundry room, I take down fresh ones and remake the bed, then I return to the bathroom where Hana is quietly sliding a beige, natural sponge down her creamy-smooth arm.

  “How are you feeling?” I sit on the side of the tub.

  Her blue eyes flicker up to mine, and she gives me a tentative smile. “A little sore, but the water feels good.”

  “Good.” I lean forward to kiss her lips, and before I can straighten, her hand catches my cheek, holding me a beat longer.

  “What are you doing?” Her voice is back to shaky confidence, and I take her hand in mine, pulling it to my lips for a kiss.

  “Just cleaning up. I’ll drive you back to your uncle’s place when you’re ready.”

  Nodding, her chin drops, and she seems sad.

  Tension twists in my chest, and I touch her chin. “What’s wrong?”

  Her slim shoulder rises, and she tilts her head to the side. “I don’t know. I guess I thought we’d spend some time together now that, you know… we did it. But I guess it is the middle of the week.”

  The tension grows tighter, and I realize how wrapped around her little finger I’ve become. I can’t leave her this way. “I need to work, but I could take you with me. Want to tag along?”

  Her eyebrows lift, and she seems happier. “I can bring my camera, and while you’re in the office, I can take more pictures.”

  “Sounds good.” Leaning down, I give her another kiss on the lips. “Get dressed, and you can be my shadow.”

  Seeing her happiness makes me happy, even though I’m acutely aware of all the potential landmines of taking her to the office, considering we’re still working out our plans for Simon.

  “You won’t even know I’m there,” she chirps.

  “Where have I heard that before?”

  She stands, and I pull down a towel, wrapping it around her body. Her arms are pinned at her sides, and I lean forward, parting her lips with mine and sliding our tongues together.

  It feels so right having her in my house, in my bed, holding her this way, kissing her. We made love, and she didn’t bolt–she didn’t even seem panicked. I’m not sure if it means she trusts me or if it’s something else, but I feel like we’ve taken a big step forward.

  “No fair,” she pouts.

  “What?”

  “You’ve got my arms all pinned, so I can’t touch you.”

  “If you touch me, we won’t leave the house.”

  Her eyes slant, and she gives me a naughty grin. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “You’re playing with fire, angel.”

  “I’m not afraid of fire.”

  “Sounds like we’re perfectly matched.” I give her another quick kiss, fighting the urge to lift her off her feet and carry her back to bed.

  I seem to have the urge to carry her everywhere now, which is ridiculous.

  “Come on. We’ll swing by your uncle’s, grab a bite to eat, then head to my office.”

  “Now you’re relaxed.” Dirk’s teasing greets us as we enter the office.

  I flip him the bird, but Hana bounces over to where he’s sitting with his feet up, balancing a laptop on his thighs.

  “How can you tell?” She’s light and teasing as well, and the fist in my chest is gone.

  I guess my partner is right. I’m completely relaxed.

  Dirk leans forward on the desk, speaking like he’s unraveling some great mystery. “You see, his brow is typically lined and his jaw is clenched. Now, the jaw is relaxed.”

  “Ahh, I see.” Hana nods, crossing her arms, and gazing up at me.

  She’s fucking adorable, but I shake my head. “Glad you two are having fun.”

  We stopped by Hana’s uncle’s on the way here, and she changed into jeans and a thin sweater that hangs over her hands. It’s so thin, I can see the camisole underneath, and I confess, it’s doing it for me. Her long, spiral curls hang down her back, and her lips are glossy pink.

  Norris made omelets, and Hana made a big show of eating a whole one, pointing out it was made with two eggs and cheese. I traced a curl off her cheek wishing I hadn’t been such an asshole to her that day at the pool. My gorgeous girl has navigated enough abuse in her twenty-one years.

  I want to make the next twenty-one–and more–as painless as possible.

  “I have news.” Dirk announces, and I slide my finger over the touchpad on my computer to wake it. “Natasha is the new manager at Gibson’s.”

  Straightening, I meet his eyes, and he nods. “Not sure what that means.”

  “I’ll tell you what it means.” Hana declares, snatching our attention. My breath stills waiting for what she’s about to say. “It means I’m never going there again. As if it weren’t bad enough, now Natasha’s in charge? Gag.”

  My shoulders drop, and Dirk exhales the breath we were both holding. “Damn, Hana.”

  “What?” She looks from him to me, confused, but he’s quick to salvage our slip.

  “You know what hit me the other day?” Standing, he walks to where she’s leaning against Hutch’s desk. Her eyebrows rise as she looks up at him. “You’re going to be my little sister in a few months.”

  “You’re right!” She smiles brightly. “I guess I hadn’t thought about it either. I’m going to have two big brothers.”

  “Hot little sister.” His eyebrow arches, and he gives her a flirty grin.

  All my good feelings evaporate, and the fist is back. “Knock it off.”

  My voice is more of a threatening growl than I expect, and Hana’s eyebrows shoot up.

  Dirk laughs, wrapping his arm around Hana’s shoulders. “What? You don’t like me noticing my sexy future sister-in-law?”

  Hana’s eyes flicker from him to me, and she steps from under his arm, walking straight to where I’m about to go off like a fucking volcano. What the fuck is wrong with me?

  “Thanks, Dirk.” Her voice is soft. “But I’m off the market.”

  Hana slides her hand up the side of my arm, almost like she’s calming a wild animal, which I imagine is what I look like. I’m stunned by the murderous urges surging in my chest.

  “Dude, breathe. I was only joking.” Dirk holds up both hands, but his eyes are sparkling as he laughs. He’s got my number. “I have to say, I like what you’re doing to him, sis.”

  “I’m not sure I like what you’re doing to him.” Her voice is quiet, and she watches my face. “You okay?”

  I do take a breath, passing a hand over my brow and forcing a smile. “It’s all good.”

  I want to pull her in for a kiss, but I’m not trying to piss all over her.

  “I’m going to take some pictures, okay?”

  Nodding, I clear my throat. “Sure. See you in a bit.”

  A hint of a smile curls her cheeks. “Okay.”

  She heads out the door, and Dirk’s eyebrows rise. “This is good. I like it. Did you tell her what we’re working on?”

  “No.” I look down, conflict raging in my chest. “I’d like to tell her about my past first. I don’t want to surprise her with all of this then tell her she’s bait. We have time.”

  “I think Hana and Blake will really help us. They’re cool and they’re smart. And they’re well-connected in the city.”

  He’s right, but my cave-man insides can’t let her go. “I still don’t like putting Hana at risk.”

  “I don’t either, but we’ll never be far away. She’ll be protected.”

  It gives me an idea. Going to the metal cabinet, I pull the top drawer open and quickly work the combination on the lockbox inside. “Tell Hutch I have the beretta.”

  “Any particular reason?”

  “No point in being armed if you don’t know how to shoot a gun.”

  “All true.” Dirk nods. “So you’re doing target practice?”

  “Teaching.”

  “The only thing I’ve ever shot is a camera.” Hana wrinkles her cute nose at me as I explain the basics of the firearm to her.

  “Your sister took Hutch’s gun last time we were in the city, and I’m pretty sure she didn’t know what she was doing.” She shot the wrong guy.

  “Weren’t you there?” Her brows furrow, and I shake my head.

  “She was with Hutch. I was looking for someone else.” Ivan X.

  Hana’s jaw drops, and she grabs my arm. “Did Blake shoot Grish?”

  “No.” Shaking my head, I think about what happened to him.

  Frustration simmers in my chest because I haven’t been able to figure out that piece of the puzzle. I’m very familiar with the Petrovich method for disposing of individuals who know too much or who have become problematic.

  What I don’t understand is why Simon's nephew was disposed of like a mark.

  “So it really was a heart attack?” Hana’s blonde head tilts to the side. “He was so young. I guess it was something he didn’t know about. I had a friend once who collapsed while playing basketball, and he had no idea he had… I can’t remember what they called it.”

  “Aortic stenosis.” My voice is quiet, and she smiles.

  “I think that’s it! How do you know?”

  The standard operating procedure is to explain the sudden heart attacks as congenital when the real cause is a lethal dose of drugs.

  “Back to your lesson.”

  We’re in a vacant field facing the woods at the edge of a new subdivision just outside Hamiltown. It’s a popular place for local kids to sneak away for the keg parties, because it’s somewhat secluded. Nosy old ladies like to call Hutch to break them up.

  I’ve set up a target forty paces away, one twenty paces, and one ten.

  “It’s good to understand how the gun works at different ranges.” I sit behind Hana on the side of my truck, situating her body in front of me, between my legs.

  “When you handle a pistol, it’s not like in the movies. You can’t simply pull the trigger over and over and hit something. You have to focus.”

  My arms cover hers, and both are outstretched in front of us. “Look down the site at the target and exhale slowly.”

  “Okay.” She tilts her head, and I feel the breath leave her body.

  “Now.”

  She pulls the trigger, and POP-POP-POP!

  The gun fires repeatedly. One shot might have hit something, but her hands fly up, and her knees bend as she shrieks. If it weren’t for me behind her, holding it, the beretta would’ve sailed out into the field.

  “Shit!” She looks at me, shaking her hands before pressing them to her cheeks. “I didn’t know it would jump like that. It’s so loud!”

  Swallowing my laugh, I nod. “That’s why we’re doing this. You shouldn’t wait until you need to use a gun to know how it feels.”

  “Jesus, my whole insides are shaking.” She exhales a laugh, turning to look out at the target. “I don’t think I hit it.”

  “Doubtful.”

  “I guess I’d better try again.”

  “Ready when you are.”

  She does a full-body shake like a boxer, and I grin watching her. When she sees me, she steps between my thighs, leaning into my chest.

  “Why am I learning to shoot a gun again? I can think of other things we could be doing.”

  My dick twitches, but I give her a nudge. “First this, then that. Now come on.”

  “Okay.” With a grumble, she presses her back to my chest again.

  She does a little wiggle of her ass against my crotch, and my dick surges more.

  “Concentrate,” I grumble, although I’m ready to bag this and throw her in the truck.

  She makes a pouty noise and straightens her arms, gun in her hands. Before she lifts it, her face turns, and she kisses the side of my jaw.

  It completely kills my focus. “Hana…”

  “It’s like in Star Wars. A kiss for luck.”

  She’s too damn cute, and I can’t argue. I want to kiss her. I want to say fuck this, I’ll do all her shooting for her, but I need to know she can protect herself if something happens and I’m not there.

  The thought twists my stomach, but it strengthens my resolve. “Eyes on the target, exhale slowly.”

  She does what I say, holding the gun straight ahead, allowing her breath to release, then she pulls it. This time when the shots ring out, one after the other, her weapon doesn’t fly out of control. It remains steady, leveled directly on the target.

  Lowering the gun, her eyes are focused straight ahead. “I think I hit it that time.”

  Taking the gun, I slip it in my holster as I walk out to where the target is pinned to a stack of wood. Small, black holes are all over the outline of a torso, and satisfaction warms my belly. They’re not focused like a marksman’s would be, but they’re good enough to fend off an attacker.

  “Not bad at all.” I hold up the large sheet of paper for her to see.

  “Wow.” Her eyebrows rise, and she carefully touches the bullet holes. “I’m a badass.”

  “Let’s try the closer target.”

  We spend about an hour practicing. When she’s ready to try it without my help, I step away, taking a bag of sunflower seeds from my glove box and popping a few in my mouth.

  “Show me what you can do.”

  She gives me a determined nod before turning to face the target. Lifting her arms, she lowers her cheek, aligning her gaze on the site. Her torso detracts as she exhales, and she fires the shots without flinching. Good student.

  “I’ll get it.” Shoving the gun in the back of her jeans, she takes off the short distance to retrieve the target then brings it to where I’m sitting, spitting out shells.

  The shots are clustered around the center of the drawing, and my eyebrows rise. “That’s really good.”

  “What are you eating?” She steps between my legs, pulling my hand open.