Committed (33 page)

“Here you go.” He stepped into the shower, her plastic bag of overnight bottles in his hand.

“Thank you.” She reached for the bag, but he held it tight to his chest.

“Let me?” Damien placed the bag of shower toiletries on a marble bench and joined her under the spray.

He squirted shampoo into his palm and stared intently at her hair, as if trying to decide how to proceed. He began by running his fingers through her waterlogged hair, massaging her scalp before moving to the ends. She tipped her head back, luxuriating in his touch. Moments like this, she felt like the center of his world.

“You’re going to smell like a girl,” she said.

“I don’t see anything wrong with smelling like you. It’s not like I’ve kept you a secret.”

Her heart pulsed painfully in her chest. What did that mean? Was that what she wanted?

“Rinse.”

Damien directed her to turn and back into the direct spray of water. He pushed her hands away again when she tried to help, so she wrapped her arms around his waist and let him do all the work.

“Is this considered aftercare, too?” she asked.

“It is after we’ve played, and I am caring for you, so I suppose.”

He went through the whole process again with her cream rinse, taking extra time to ensure he’d washed it all away. It was tender and sweet, and deep down, she knew she could get used to this kind of attention.

When they finished the shower, he wrapped her in a huge towel and even dried her off.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said with a smile.

“I know, which makes me want to.” He tapped her chin with his knuckle and bent for
another quick kiss.

It was the drive-by kisses that were the worst, she decided. They knocked her slightly off kilter and left her with a goofy grin. In their wake, she couldn’t remember what she was supposed to be doing.

Damien scooped her up and carried her to his bed, unconcerned about his own nudity, or that he was dripping wet. He laid her in the middle of the bed and handed her a bowl of his grandmother’s cobbler. She hadn’t been able to eat any after dinner because she’d been so full. She greedily snatched up the warm bowl and ate a bite. Her stomach rumbled a bit, a testament to just how many calories they’d burned.

Damien toweled off and slid in beside her, cradling his own bowl.

“What are your plans for the rest of the week?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Hadn’t really thought about it.” That was a lie. She’d thought about it a great deal, and about how if Damien had to work late, she wouldn’t get to see him. “What are you doing?”

“Being bitter I’m not with you.”

She snorted.

“What? I’m serious.”

Poppy spooned a bite of the gooey filling and crust into her mouth.

“Look, I know we didn’t meet that long ago, and we haven’t been on good terms for half of that, but I like you. A lot. It’s hard to find people like us, who click playing, and in the vanilla world. This next week is going to be busy, and I know my job isn’t just an eight-to-five, but I want to devote as much of myself to this as possible. If that means putting the Emilio investigation on the back burner, I’m willing to make that call.”

Her heart pounded in her chest. Was this the Relationship Talk? Was that what they were doing?

He put his bowl down on the mattress and his gaze narrowed. “I realized this week that I was a lot more obsessed than I wanted to admit. And being focused on that is taking away from other parts of my life. If having the chance to see where this goes between us means cutting back on work, that’s what I’ll do.”

She swallowed hard and placed the spoon in her bowl. Part of her was jumping for joy, while the other half was waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under her.

“What are you thinking? Talk to me, please?” Damien took her hand in his.

An invisible fist squeezed her heart. He’d give up his one-man search for Emilio? For
her? That didn’t feel right. It was what she wanted to hear, but letting the bad guy go free was so against what Damien was about.

“I want to say yes. I want to be totally and completely excited about being with you …”

“And yet?”

“I don’t want you to give up finding Emilio.”

“I wouldn’t be giving it up. I would be giving up the search on my own time. If a lead comes in at work, of course I’m going to follow it. But no more of this after-hours searching. I can’t let him consume me—because then he wins.”

She dropped her gaze to the bed, shame eating at her. “I’ve always settled in relationships. I don’t want you to settle. But I also don’t want to pretend I’m happy not being a priority. I don’t know if I can keep doing that. Giving all of me and not getting half that in return.”

Damien took their bowls and placed them on the nightstand. He grasped both her hands and peered up at her.

“I can see where I’ve made you feel that way, and I’m sorry. It’s not always like this. And you have never been a low priority for me.” The sincerity in his voice made her shame burn hotter. “Think of it this way. During the holidays, your family is all around. That’s what holidays are about. But in the middle of all that, when the bell dings that the turkey is done—you gotta go get the turkey out of the oven before it burns. My job, for as much as I love what I do, is still a job. I have, in the past, let it consume me, but that is not where I want to be. I want to be with my family, and if that includes you in the future, I’m a happier man for it.”

Poppy wanted to bury herself under the pillows. Heat gripped her cheeks and it hurt to breathe. She didn’t know if she should be excited or worried, run away screaming or jump his bones. It was too much.

Damien kept speaking, filling the silence with his deep, velvety voice. “That’s a lot to say at once, but I think it speaks to where I am. I realize I’ve been mentally all-in with you since I first laid eyes on you. I don’t think you saw me. It was at dinner on that Friday night, and you were all alone. You were nervous, I could tell by the way you kept glancing around, but there was something about you, and I knew I needed to get to know you. I bet you thought I just happened by the library, didn’t you?”

“Kind of. I hadn’t thought about it.”

“I probably shouldn’t tell you all that. It just makes me look like a creepy stalker.”

“Maybe a little, but not in a bad way.”

“Now you’re rationalizing for your stalker.” Damien pulled her against his chest and kissed her brow.

“Am not.” She clung to him, burying her face against his shoulder. She didn’t know what to think or feel. Her brain simply would not compute everything, not after so much play.

Damien stroked her face, her hair. He was so careful with her, even when he marked her body, but she didn’t think he’d meant to mark her soul.

“I probably shouldn’t have brought this up right now. You subspaced pretty hard back there. How about we table this until later this week? Or better yet, what if we went away this weekend? Just us?”

“I’d like that.” Given a day or two, she would be able to get her head around his words, but even her play-addled mind could read between the lines.

They were falling for each other—and neither knew if there was a safety net in place.

Emilio rolled the windows down to let out some of the stench. The car smelled of pot, cigarettes, and body odor. It disgusted even him. The evening breeze was humid and heavy, but it was better than the odor inside.

He checked the time and cursed that it had gotten so late. It had taken longer than he’d have liked to dump the thugs’ bodies. Now that the Valdez cartel was floundering, other gangs thought they could move in, take the territory Emilio had held sway over for years.

Let them have it. He was done in Chicago after he delivered a little payback. The gangs could have the city, but the agent was his. So he’d sent his message. Chances were the bodies wouldn’t be found for another day or two, but that was fine. They’d be a little more fragrant by then.

Emilio needed to dump the piece-of-shit car, but first he wanted to take a little drive by Special Agent Moana’s house. He’d nearly pissed himself when he’d found the lovebirds had moved out of the woman’s apartment.

He’d surveyed the brownstone the woman lived in, but there were cameras, and the first-floor neighbor seemed particularly nosy, so he’d scratched off her house as a potential grab site. The agent’s house though, that was another matter altogether.

A car pulled out behind him, keeping far enough away that if it weren’t getting close to midnight, Emilio might not have noticed.

“There you are,” he whispered at the rearview mirror.

It was time to dish out a little revenge. His favorite kind, too.

“Poppy, Poppy wake up.”

Poppy groaned and pried one eye open. She didn’t know what time it was, but it was too early for this being-awake business.

The bed dipped. She could make out Damien’s figure in the dimness of the room. Was the light from the sun? Or the bathroom?

“Poppy?”

“What?” she mumbled.

“I’m sorry, sweetness, but we’ve got to get up.” There was a hint of … was that fear in his voice?

“Why?” She picked up her head and blinked at him.

“One of the guys I work with was hurt real bad tonight. I need to go and see him, but if I go you don’t have a ride.”

Someone was hurt. Those words registered and shot adrenaline into her system.

“I’m up.” Poppy tossed back the comforter and the chill air wrapped around her naked body. “Holy crap, it’s cold.”

She dove for her bag, blinking as Damien turned on the lamp. He was already dressed, one hand in his pocket, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

“How bad is it?” she asked as she pulled her clothes on in a mad rush.

“Bad. They said he’s in surgery. Probably won’t tell me more until I get there.”

Poppy pulled on her dress, shoved the few bits and pieces of her things she could find back in her bag, and slung it over her shoulder.

“Ready. Let’s go,” she said.

“What about—”

“I can get anything else later. Let’s go.” She ushered him out of the bedroom, flipping off the lights as they went. She hated leaving his bedroom in such a state of disarray, but there wasn’t time to do anything else.

“I can drop you closer to the hospital. It’ll cut down on your train ride.” Damien handed her the trench coat she’d worn yesterday. This early, the humid air was more clammy than chilly, but she was grateful for it all the same.

“That’s fine. Anything that’s on the way.” Poppy jumped in the passenger seat of the truck, still shaking off the sleepies.

Damien climbed behind the wheel, a dark, brooding presence. She could only imagine what kind of torment it must be to face danger like this. As he pulled out of the neighborhood, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it. He linked their fingers together and merged onto the main street toward downtown.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his tone pained.

“Don’t be. You can’t control this.”

“I know, but after last night—”

“Don’t apologize. This is different. Don’t worry about me. Just think about your friend. He needs you. I’m fine.” She squeezed his hand. “Will you let me know how he is later?”

“Yeah. The train station’s up here.”

She let him go and pulled her hair up into a ponytail. It was early enough that the morning rush wasn’t in full swing, so maybe she could have a few minutes in the teacher’s bathroom to finish getting ready.

Poppy leaned across the console and kissed his cheek. Damien shifted into park and grabbed her by the back of the head before she pulled away. He brought her in for another soul-searing kiss. Each time, it was as if they traded bits of themselves, twining their spirits together in an elemental way that knit them together. He left her gasping for breath, her head spinning.

“I’ll call you,” he said.

“Please do.”

Poppy grabbed her bag and slid out of the truck. She stood on the curb and waved as he pulled away. There wasn’t any time to process what had just happened, just time to react. She hoped his friend was okay, and that whatever creep had hurt him would get what he deserved.

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

“Yes?” Poppy turned toward a man in slacks and a button-down shirt. His tie was loose around his neck, but his face … there was something familiar about it. Where had she seen him before?

“Do you have the time?”

“Well …” What an odd question. Didn’t he have a cell phone? She patted her dress until she realized it had no pockets, then started digging in her purse.

The man grabbed her arm and pressed something cold and hard against her side. “Move.”

“What?”

“If you don’t want to get a bullet in your gut, you’ll move now.”

Poppy’s heart raced as he shoved her further from the train station. There wasn’t anyone around for her to call out to for help. She was completely alone. Fear paralyzed her, making her trip over her feet.

“Don’t hurt me,” she pleaded.

He chuckled. “You should be afraid of more than that.”

She glanced at him again, and that’s when it hit her.

The man in Damien’s photograph.

The one he was going to stop looking for.

He was holding her arm.

“Go pace somewhere else,” Gio grumbled.

Damien stopped in the middle of the path between the rows of chairs. Gio and a few other agents had been seated here since the doctor came out to chat with them after surgery. Matías was all sewn up, but they still weren’t allowing anyone to see him, which was driving Damien mad.

“Seriously, you’re stressing me out with the pacing.” Gio popped a Junior Mint in her mouth. Judging by the empty boxes of candy on the seat next to her, she was stress eating.

He glanced at his watch. It was close to noon. He could at least call Poppy and check in with her.

“Fine. I’m going to go get lunch. Want anything?”

He took orders from the others and left the emergency room. The sky had cleared up as the day progressed, and now the sun shone, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Someone nearby had just cut grass, and the scent hung in the air. The streets around the hospital were filled with a steady traffic of family and strolling patients. He pulled out his phone and jabbed in Poppy’s cell phone number.