Chapter 9
Max and Sam volleyed back and forth for who snored loudest, so sleep was out of the question. Not that my mind could relax when another day of gloom hung over our heads.
I sat on the edge of the bed, the flannel sheet to my chest and moved the edges of cloth to hide my bruises. In full daylight, the bluish marks looked uglier than they felt.
Sam's hand slid up my bare back."What's going on in that head of yours?"
"Go back to sleep. You still have forty minutes till your shift." Leaning over him, I kissed his chest with an open mouth, again lingering longer than appropriate for the quick sign off I'd intended. But damn, he smelled and tasted so good.
"God, I hate when you distract me." He sat up. "Out with it, Larson. What's got you spinning?"
"Nothing. At least not about the case. I was just thinking...this is no home for us."
"Hey." He cozied up to my shoulder, resting his chin there. "We'll figure this out, just like you said. Then we'll find a way home."
I leaned my head against his. "My apartment's a pile of ash. That's the only place that felt like ours."
"We'll stay at my pad. Kind of a dump, but that will keep us safe till we find a new apartment. Someplace we'll make our own."
I laughed softly. Sam's promises of living safely or happily in the city were out of touch with reality.
"You don't believe me?"
"What I believe, Sam, is that in a few hours we'll be role-playing World War Three under Vilet's watchful cameras, and this—us—will be just a figment of my imagination again. How did we get here? We should've headed straight for the courthouse that night, and maybe none of this would have ever happened."
Sam stiffened. He leaned back on the headboard.
"I'm guessing that's why you were so angry at Reynolds' cabin. You never got an answer from me." I hazarded a glance his direction. "I can't deny your proposal took me by surprise. Wasn't exactly the traditional approach, you have to admit. And I won't deny the thousand ways I thought to run away from you, as far as any jet plane could take me. But the truth is I'd give anything to have that moment back again. Once you took that phone call...I just froze up. "
"Then we'll never know your answer." He stared off like I wasn't there.
"I knew my answer." Smiling, I stroked the indent between his pecs where the hairs curled. I didn't mind that he doubted me, didn't mind that he brewed with tension. A man had a right to feel resentful when he asks a woman to marry him and her first response is to drop her jaw. "So going back into that conference room as enemies, after being in your arms turns and awakening those old feelings, just turns me upside down. Not that my head's screwed on very tight. We both know I make terrible, scary decisions."
"No kidding." His lopsided grin told me he was cracking.
My fingers spread over his skin. Sam rested his hand over mine to stop my movements and stared into my eyes. Either he was awaiting my next blathering confession, or he was putting together a few damning words with which to flog me. Still, I couldn't stop smiling at this gorgeous, witty, tough, taxing man. The best scary decision I'd ever made.
His thumb stroked the back of my hand. "Let's make a pact. Right now. This room, this bed—this is ours. Nobody comes between us here. Not the case, not my team. Nobody. We leave the war outside. I'm not promising a quick cleanup with that mess downstairs. Frankly, I'm low on solutions. With you and with this case. But up here, I feel like I know who I am again. Who we are together. And as far as that head of yours is concerned, it's screwed on just fine in my book."
