Yet somehow, she sat there, waiting for Decker to emerge from his interrogation so she could catch a glimpse of him, wait for him to say
Or she’d settle for someone delivering the punch line to this really awful joke. Everything seemed surreal.
“Honey . . .” London moved closer to hug her, and Rachel felt the smallest swell of the other woman’s baby bump. A little jolt of envy pierced her.
She’d probably never feel a child growing in her body. Quickly on her way to thirty, divorced once, and then deceived by the man she’d probably always regard as the love of her life, she didn’t see motherhood in her future. And she didn’t want to swing a third strike. Maybe she was just meant to be alone. Or she should try devoting the rest of her days to a cause she could be passionate about and get lost in.
Of course nothing would ever give her the kind of mind-bending passion Decker had. Or would make her feel as special. She’d always want to believe all the wonderful words he’d spoken to her, all the pleasure he’d heaped on her, but Rachel feared nothing and no one would ever fill the void he was leaving behind in her life.
Good gravy, she sounded maudlin and woe-is-me. Because she loved Decker and knew that no other man would do. Somehow in the span of a few golden hours, she’d ended up surrendering her heart to him.
“I’ll be all right.” She stood and hugged London. “It’ll just take time.”
The pity in the woman’s blue eyes made her heart lurch. Xander hovered nearby, his face grim.
“Don’t give up on him yet. He’s really a good guy,” London murmured.
“He cares a lot about you,” Xander swore.
Maybe. Maybe not. She didn’t know what to think anymore.
With another hug and a squeeze of her hand, London left, clinging to Xander’s arm and promising to call next week. She waved them out with a wan smile, then sat staring at the wall.
As they departed, sunlight slanted through her back windows, illuminating her house in a gorgeous glow. And yet for her, the world felt as if it were coming to an end.
Seriously, she was going to have to pull herself up by her bootstraps and stop crying in her beer.
Suddenly, the EMTs came by and took the blanket. They inquired after her again, and she sent them away. There was nothing wrong with her that first aid or a trip to the ER could fix.
Shonda texted that her brother was being discharged from the hospital. Rachel sent her a smiley face back, too exhausted and dazed to manage more. She didn’t know whether thirty minutes or an eternity passed.
Finally, there was a flurry of activity at the back of her house. Men yelled. Doors shut. Someone laughed. Then a pair of uniformed officers and a detective made their way toward the front door, sparing a smile for her.
“We’ll call you if we have any other questions, but otherwise you’re free,” the detective said. “Rest up. We’ll leave a few uniforms outside so you feel safe.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Thanks, guys. I’ve got it from here.”
Decker.
Rachel whipped around at the sound of his voice. He stood at the opening to the hallway, still wearing yesterday’s clothes. He hadn’t shaved. He really hadn’t slept much. And he still looked not just sexy as all get out, but so familiar and beloved that she felt her eyes tear up.
The detective nodded and shut the door behind him, closing her in the house alone with Decker.
“Why are you still here?” she asked. She didn’t want the question to come out like an accusation, but it probably did.
“Because we’re not done, you and I.” He prowled closer, closer, until he stopped right before her. “Rachel, I don’t know what Christian told you or what you believe, but if I had really wanted to kill you, beautiful, you’d be dead. I learned a thousand different ways with Delta Force and the CIA. I’ve used a fair number of them. I’m not a Boy Scout. But I would never, ever, for any reason hurt you.”
She wanted to believe him so badly . . . “So was it some sort of sting operation and you seduced me to catch a bad guy?”
“No, I really do work for Xander and Javier now. Nothing I told you was a lie. I just didn’t confess that I sought you out because, earlier on Saturday, Christian Adams approached me in a bar and mistook me for someone he’d connected with online to do a kill-for-hire job. The other guy apparently backed out, but didn’t tell Christian. When he hit me up, I thought he was joking. By the time I realized he was serious, the guy was slapping down money, your picture, and giving me a few days to finish you off. I went straight to the police. I swear it, baby. They told me I didn’t have enough evidence. So I decided to keep you safe myself. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to scare the hell out of you.” He grimaced. “And I didn’t stay out of your bed because resisting you was beyond me.”
Her first instinct was to protect herself and toss his explanation back in his face. But she took a deep breath and started turning it over in her head. She could picture Decker thinking that some guy’s “job opportunity” was a joke. If he’d actually done anything illegal, the police would have taken him into custody, so they must have absolved him of any wrongdoing. That meant . . . he probably had approached and seduced her because he’d ultimately meant to protect her. Was it that hard to believe that he’d wanted her, too?
After years of neglect at Owen’s hands? Sadly, yes.
“How much of what we shared was pretend?” Her voice was small, and she hated asking the question, but for her peace of mind, she had to know.
“Between us in bed naked, with me deep inside you?” He crouched in front of her. “Not a damn thing.”
Rachel slid her eyes shut. Her heart leapt at his words, and her mind pushed back. She hated this turmoil.
“Was I just a fling for you?” His question cut through her confusion. He sounded uncertain.
Wait. Was he actually worried that he hadn’t been meaningful to her?
She opened her eyes, falling into his blue stare, wanting to stay there forever. “No.”
“Thank fucking God.”
Before she could respond, Decker settled his arms under her knees and behind her back, then lifted her against his chest. He began to cart her down the hall.
“Wha . . . what are you doing?” she sputtered.
“Putting an end to this bullshit.”
Rachel gaped at him, her thoughts a muddle. What did he mean?
She didn’t have to wonder long.
Decker carried her into her bedroom and tossed her on the bed. On her way down, she saw his suitcase in the corner of the room, wide open. Half the contents were on the floor, as if the police really had conducted a search of his stuff.
He grabbed a few things from the little duffel and scooped them into his hand, enclosing whatever he held in his fist. She didn’t even have time to sit up and confront him about what in the heck he was doing. No, he lowered himself on top of her, tying her wrists to the slats in her headboard with two mismatched athletic socks he’d held.
“What the devil . . .” she demanded. “Decker!”
“The problem we’re having now is trust. You don’t really trust that I was protecting you from Christian. You sure as hell don’t believe I fell for you. Both are the absolute truth. Beautiful, you changed something for me.” He cupped her face. “No, you changed everything for me. If I’m not just a fling for you, and you’re mad that I lied, that has to mean that you care about me, too. Right?”
Good gravy, how could he figure her out so easily? “Bite me.”
“Love to. Where?” he grinned.
Teasing wasn’t going to work. She wasn’t going to fall for his sense of humor all over again, even if his warm body pinned her to the mattress, reminding her just how hard and built he was all over. How good he could make her feel.
Rachel just glared at him. “That is not funny.”
“No? How about this . . .” He kissed his way up her neck and murmured in her ear. “They should suspend
