“We’ll be okay, guys,” I croak out at last, infusing my voice with sincerity. I have to believe that. I have to. The alternative? It’s too much for me to bear.
My voice seems to snap them out of their combined funks. Avery, with one more squeeze of my knee, slides out of the vehicle followed by Desmond and Helio. Only Sin remains behind, shading the tallest flame on my hand.
“There!” he says, smiling in satisfaction.
I stare at the intricate masterpiece for a long moment, using a finger on my other hand to touch the flames as if they’re actually capable of burning me.
“I love it,” I whisper, the beginnings of a smile playing on my lips. “It just sucks that I’m going to have to wash it off when we get inside.”
I’m covered head-to-toe in soot and ash. There are very few areas of my skin that miraculously escaped the aftermath of the various fires.
Sin shrugs, unperturbed. “That’s okay. We have forever in front of us. I’ll doodle on your hand every damn day for the rest of eternity.”
When a bubbly feeling manifests in my stomach, I can’t stop myself from leaning forward and kissing Sin. Because, despite his faults, Sin never gave up on us. From the very first day, he’s been determined to keep us reading the same book until we reach the end and the happily ever after. We might be on different pages and different chapters, but the stories always remain the same, as does the ending. It just takes some of us longer to get there.
But Sin? He skipped ahead and read the last few words. Now, he’s waiting for the rest of us to catch up and join him in the post-book bliss.
“We should get inside before the others send a search party out after us,” I breathe, smiling against his pillowy lips. He smirks back.
“Trust me, Em. If I didn’t want them to find you, they wouldn’t.” His candid, almost nonchalant, words might fill others with trepidation, but they only serve to skyrocket my arousal.
Which is pretty fucked up, considering we just burned a girl alive not too long ago.
My drawn-on hand interlocked with his tattooed one, we hurry into my apartment.
“—then where the fuck is she?” Tate growls as soon as we enter. He’s standing toe-to-toe with a furious Avery, his dark hair tousled as if he’d run his hand through it numerous times when we were apart. Desmond stands behind him, laughing into his hand, but before I can ask him what’s so fucking funny, Tate spots me. Immediately, his scowl deepens.
“Do you not know how to use a fucking phone?” he snaps, pushing Avery to the side and stalking towards me. Sin releases my hand and walks to the kitchen, removing clothes as he goes.
“Did you find anything?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest and narrowing my eyes. Instead of answering, Tate takes the time to catalogue the charred remains of my dress. With each consecutive second, his lips curl up more and more until he’s practically snarling.
“They told me what happened.” He nods behind him to Avery and Desmond, who are both laughing inaudibly, their large bodies shaking. Helio stands in the corner of the room, rolling his eyes at their antics. “About the bomb. Why didn’t you fucking text me?”
I want to be annoyed with his growly attitude, but I can see real fear in his eyes. Tate is petrified. Even seeing me now, alive and well, isn’t enough to appease his worry. I instantly feel like shit for not contacting him sooner.
Of course he would worry.
“I’m sorry.” I bite down on my lower lip as I rub a hand down his blue sleeve. He’s still wearing his police uniform, and dammit if I don’t get a little wet from it. I never thought a man in uniform would do something for me, but there’s no denying the persistent throb down below.
Tate releases a long, strenuous breath.
“Don’t do shit like that again,” he reprimands, but he’s shaking, and his eyes won’t stop roving over me as he assesses me for injuries. Fortunately for all of us, I’m the Goddess of fucking Pain. If I feel enough of it, I’m able to heal from almost any injury. Though…
I’m sure there’s a few things I won’t be able to heal from while I’m here.
“I’m okay,” I promise, wrapping my arms around his neck and playing with the soft hairs at the base of it. “Now, tell me what you found.”
He continues to hold me, our bodies rocking from side to side, as he speaks.
“The assassin is Marco Pavlov, a Russian immigrant who’s been here on a visa for almost seven months. He’s wanted on a few accounts of rape in several different states. The cops found his body before I arrived, but they ruled it as a drug-deal gone wrong, based on the location. And I may have pushed a little bit of my deception into them, so they won’t be looking for DNA at the crime scene.”
Oh, yeah. I kind of forgot that we had sex mere inches from where the man was killed. There’s bound to be a shit ton of DNA on the floors there.
“And Rebecca?” I nibble on my lower lip. Once, in high school, I was convinced by one of my friends to get a lip ring. I had it for approximately a month before Avery demanded I remove it because I wouldn’t stop sucking on it.
“Nothing in the database. She’s practically a ghost. We have no record of her anywhere, not even under a fake name.”
“I don’t—”
Desmond explodes into laughter behind me before I can finish my thought, doubling over and slapping his
