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“There are some things that apologies don’t fix.”Some hurts that went too deep.He’d never been good at apologizing.Hell, his family could tell Naomi that fact.But for her, he was willing to try just about anything.Including the best grovel he could manage.
Or maybe I’ll just find the real killer, beat the shit out of him, and tie him up with a bow for Naomi.When she gets her name thoroughly cleared, maybe she’ll forgive me then.Maybe…
Or maybe Madeline had been right.And, in the end, Naomi would walk away from him.
“If it were me, I’d keep her.”
Eb’s head swung toward Hunter.Frustrated, he growled, “I told you, you don’t get to?—”
“Find a way.Find.A.Way.If she really matters, you’ll do it.”
Did she really matter to him?Hell, yes, she did.So, as far as keeping her, as far as finding a way…
I damn well will.
He’d start with the game plan already swirling in his head.Find the real killer.Beat the shit out of him.Tie him up with a bow…
Deliver him as a gift to Naomi.
Some women liked flowers.Not his Naomi.
She’s going to get a killer on a silver platter.
ChapterNineteen
The house was quiet.Naomi peeked out of her bedroom window.The wreckage had been removed.No more agents rushing around.No more tow trucks.No more crazed gang members looking to watch her burn.
The sun had risen.A new day.
She’d slept some, on and off, even with the voices and the chaos from outside.Each time she drifted to sleep, though, she’d dreamed of fire.The fire that had taken her parents.The fire at her house.
A fire here, at the safe house.Only she hadn’t escaped the flames.
They’d been closing in on her.And then…
Eb had been there.
Hero.Villain.Maybe some combination of both.But what she knew with certainty was that when she needed him, he was there for her.Even in her dreams.
He’d helped get Henry back for her.
He’d fought the fire at her house with her.
He’d stood by her when the seizure had her shaking and unable to speak.
And he’d gone out to face a dozen bikers for her.
If he really hated her, he wouldn’t do any of those things.As for her own feelings, hate didn’t enter the equation when she thought of him.Something else did.Maybe it was time to stop hiding from the way she felt.To do something about it.To be honest with him.
Naomi threw on fresh clothes and her sneakers, and she hurried from the room.She darted into the hallway and pounded on the door right across from hers.
“Come in,” a gruff voice ordered.
She swung open the door and barreled inside.“We need to talk because I still want you and you still want—Hunter!”
“Yeah, hey.”Hunter sat up in bed, with the sheets tangled around his waist.A long, jagged line of scarred flesh ran from his collarbone down to those sheets.I recognize the raised, angry scar from a fire when I see one.Because over the years, she’d volunteered with plenty of burn victims, and Naomi knew when she was staring at the damage flames could do to skin.
“Eyes up here, sunshine,” he chided.