“I know it is. We can’t help but remind each other of what we used to be.”
Ian looked away from him and sat upright, his jaw tight. Paper crackled as he reached into his jacket. “I’ve brought you something.”
Tango sat up to join him, and was handed a printed out map, addresses circled in red pen.
“Ellison’s properties,” Ian explained. “Some are safe houses, some warehouses, some dealers and sundry employees. Anyone or anyplace affiliated with Don Ellison is on that map.”
Tango folded it carefully. “Thank you. This will be helpful.”
“Share it with your president. I have no love for the man, but I’m worried about you.” When Tango met his gaze, he added, “I only want for you to be safe.”
“I am,” Tango assured.
It tasted like a lie, and Ian’s small smile told him it sounded like one too.
Fifteen
Butterflies. That’s what had overtaken her stomach. Sam left work with a stupid grin plastered to her face and a belly full of butterflies, all of them vying for position between her ribs and making her breathless.
She’d been drowsy, smiling and content all through her day, but now, as she slid into her car and headed for Dartmoor, she was downright giddy. She felt the glowing handprints he’d left against her skin, warm beneath her clothes, like delicious secrets. All these years she’d spent fantasizing…and she’d never have to again. She knew, now, and she wanted more.
Dartmoor was in a state of pleasant busyness when she pulled into the lot and navigated through traffic to get down to the bike shop. The tiny, glass-walled office and the bench out front were occupied by customers, so she avoided that area, and instead went straight into the garage bays.
Mercy spotted her first. His grin told her everything she needed to know: the guysknew.
“Oh damn,” she said, coming to a halt.
He laughed. “Afternoon, Sam.”
She felt her cheeks warm. “Afternoon, Mercy. Is–”
“Your man here? Yeah, he’s right back here.” He gestured to the bike up on the rack.
And there was Aidan, making her heart pound and her breath catch, all those butterflies surging. Sam shoved the reaction down and stood calm and unaffected as she watched Aidan set down his tools, towel off his hands and glare at his brother-in-law. “Dude, leave her alone.”
Then he was closing the distance, and his eyes were on her, Mercy’s chuckling forgotten.
“Hi.” His smile was a shot of adrenaline, strobing inside her chest.
“Hi.”
He took her hand and pulled her arm through his, leading her out of the garage. That little dance of propriety was gone, the do-you-want-to, let’s-go-for-a-walk hesitancy no longer applicable.
“Good day?” he asked once they were out of earshot of the shop.
“Yeah, I…” She trailed off when she glanced up at him. He’d smiled, sure, and his tone just now was pleasant, but there was something wrong. A deep furrow between his brows marked him as troubled, and his gaze was trained on the pavement.
Sam halted, tugging on his arm and forcing him to do the same. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay, you’ve got to stop feeding me that bullshit.” His head snapped up, startled and amused. “Somethingiswrong, andhas beenwrong for a while now. I don’t need to be in your business, I’m not nosy like that. But I’m worried about you.” She passed her hand up his bare arm, surprised by the mingling of rough and shiny-smooth textures of his scars.
Her eyes dropped to his skin, the distorted tattoos, just blurs and suggestions now. He’d almost died, she reminded herself, and a lump formed in her throat.
She took a breath and met his gaze again. “I’m just offering, okay? If you can’t talk about it, that’s fine, but I’m here if you need to unburden yourself. I want you to know you can do that with me.” She smiled. “It’s a two-way street. You’ve helped me, and I want you to know that I’ll return the favor.”
It pulled at her heartstrings, the way he stared at her. He wanted to tell her; she couldfeelthe pressure of the words on his tongue. But he swallowed and said, “I really don’t deserve you.”
