Maeve closes her eyes, leaning her face down. Another tear drops off her nose. “I thought you didn’t want me.”
Such a simple, heart shredding statement that can only come from a place of desertion. I pull her chin to look at me. “Nothing that dies really goes away. It exists in everything that remains. In the love. In the fear. In memories that hurt and heal. It’s right here. In this space. He guided you to a safe landing. A forever landing. I want you. I will always want you.”
The fear fades from her blue eyes and I can see the effect my words have on her. She falls into my chest, wrapping her arms around my neck, pulling her body into my lap. I cradle her close. I’d combine her body with mine if it meant it would save her from pain and heartache. “I love you so much, Lincoln. Thank you for saying that.”
“I love you too, Maeve.” I pause, pressing my lips against the top of her head. “The problem is, so does Rufio, and Rufio’s boss kills people for a living.”
She pulls away, fright sweeping her face as she flicks her gaze up. “Isn’t that what you do, though?”
I offer a small grin. “Legally, babe. My job is legal. This dumpster fire of a human is the dirt on the bottom of my shoe. Not like me at all.”
“Why can’t we go to the police? This is what the dumb people do in shows, Lincoln. They don’t go to the police because the bad guys tell them not to, but everyone at home is like, duh, go to the police, that’s the right answer.”
“I can’t risk anything happening to Turner. We’re safe now for this second, but we need to take precautions until we can pin these assholes to the wall. Just a little patience, and intel gathering, and then we hand it all over to the authorities. They’ve been trying to get this kingpin for years. He’s responsible for cocaine laced with sketchy fentanyl that’s killing people left and right in the U.S. How ironic will it be that a minion gives up the gig?”
“Is Turner safe now?”
I nod. “Tommy has eyes on the school. That’s where he went after he left here.”
“The lips on glass,” Maeve says. “The lip prints. Was that… Rufio?”
This is the hard part. “We’re not sure who did what and when, only that Rena has been coked out of her mind and is going back and forth between Colorado and Utah. She lives close to the border, so it wasn’t a long distance to travel by car. She has cartel money at her disposal and there are private airports everywhere. I don’t think there is any way she would be able to do what was done to that coyote, but I also don’t think Rufio is the window kissing type.” Maeve looks away, but tightens her grip on me. “But if I had to guess...” I let my words trail off.
“What would you guess?”
I remember the homemade Valentine’s Day card she made me the year before she left. Under her signed name was a kiss print. Granted, it was in lipstick and not blood, so I never connected the two until now. Who would turn something sweet and sexy into something sadistic and cruel? No one I knew, or at least that’s what I thought. “I think if Rena wasn’t the one to do the actual lip print, she ordered Rufio to do it.” I nearly choke on my words. “I never believed she was capable of something like this. I’ve known her my entire life. It was by her hand that this guy is crazy like white on rice, and I’m going to make sure he’s also the reason we take down the cartel.”
“This has to be hard for you. Taking down the cartel means taking down Rena,” she says sadly. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
“Tell me,” I command. “You need to know that my purpose in life is to make sure evil gets what they deserve. As far as I’m concerned, Rena is evil. She’s been dead to me since she left us. I’m not worried about taking her down. I’m worried about what she’s going to do before I can.”
Maeve cringes. “Be that as it may, she’s Turner’s biological mom. Doesn’t that mean something?”
“Blood doesn’t form a person. Love does. Turner is nothing like Rena in any way, nor will he ever be. It means absolutely nothing.”
She seems to be mulling something over—staying silent. “Did you have something to tell me?” I prod, trying to peer at her face.
She shakes her head. “I just want to be with you.”
I try a joke to lighten the mood. “You want to go at it in the gun range?”
Maeve’s eyes flicker around the dank, cold room, and then she stands. “It’s a little too creepy. A little too real life for the things that have happened. How about your truck?”
“Ah, so my truck is with Isaac being debugged at this very moment, but I will rock your socks off in a freshly rented Kia Soul.”
For the first time, Maeve’s mouth pics up in a wide smile as she laughs. “Sounds like it has soul. I’m in.”
I don’t take another second for granted—I whisk her out the back door, locking the door behind us.
