Page 100 of His to Love
“What happened?”
“There are still things I can’t tell you,” he admitted, hesitancy clear in his voice. “The case is technically still open until the trial.”
“I understand that, too.”
I hated it. But I got it.
His shoulders slumped as if I’d personally lifted a weight off his shoulders. Perhaps I had.
Licking his lips, he set down his beer and moved closer to me so his hand could reach out and hold mine. His was cold from his beer, but his grasp was firm. A shiver slid up my arm, and he looked down, watching goosebumps flare on my skin.
“I was in DC when my supervisor called me in. He tossed a file into my lap and told me I was going undercover. I told you that this morning, but they knew you’d been called home. Fuck, Blue, you can’t begin to know the amount of relief I felt knowing that you were even still alive. All those years I spent waiting for you to come home, to reach out to me…and suddenly, there you were, your beautiful face in a photo inside your father’s file.”
The photo he mentioned this morning. I had wondered what he meant by that.
“I saw that picture, knew I would be seeing you again, knew I’d have to get close to you, and do you know what I said to myself the moment I left my office and hopped on a flight to Denver?”
Nothing about us was coincidence. Not even meeting on the plane. I beat back the wave of disappointment the revelation gave me and pushed through it. “What?”
“I said, ‘fuck it.’ I’d lose my job if I had to, but there was no way I was going to get that close to you again and let you slip through my fingers. You weren’t a job to me. You were the woman I fell in love with.”
“And did you lose your job?” I asked, unable to hide the snide tone in my voice.
I already knew the answer. It was quite possibly the biggest slap in the face, maybe the thing causing me the largest doubt since the nightmare of seeing Tyson arrest my father.
“No,” he answered. “I was promoted to Managing Field Officer of their Detroit office.”
“Do they know about us?” I recognized my slip the instant it left my mouth. Tyson’s smile told me he caught it.
“I told them that the woman I love is in Detroit and I’m not leaving. Not now. Not ever.”
I blew out a breath and reached for my glass. After several moments of being unable to look at him, I finally asked, “Is there anything I ever said that helped you with your case? The night I told you about Malik, did you use that?”
His eyes narrowed and he sucked his lip between his teeth. It was my answer.
“Yes.”
I swallowed, and turned away from him. Somehow, I knew this. Weeks ago, it might have hurt too much. But sitting with him, I couldn’t dig deep enough inside of me to feel any sort of pity or pain from hearing the truth.
“Will you ever lie to me again?”
“No.” His answer was firm. Abrupt. When our eyes locked, I knew it to be absolutely true.
“Okay,” I whispered, leaning toward him.
Tyson might have hidden truths from me, but I had to finally admit that they were for a greater good. Because of him, perhaps because of me in some way, dozens of evil men were off the streets—at least for the time being. “Then I’ll give you a chance to prove that I can trust you again.”
His eyes widened as my fingertips brushed against his cheek.
“You sure?”
I nodded, nerves and anticipation making my smile falter as I leaned closer to him. He met me halfway and I gasped as our lips brushed against each other.
“Tyson,” I murmured against his lips.
He reached out and wrapped his hands around my hips, pulling me to him so I was straddling him on the couch.
“What?”
