Page 45 of Midnight’s Captive (Stroke of Midnight #2)

Taryn tossed and turned. The beer hadn’t knocked her out like she had hoped and she hadn’t been able to turn off her brain. She couldn’t stop thinking about Rhonda and playing back the last few months over and over. Surely there was some clue that she’d missed. Some way she could have stopped this. Should have stopped this.

A soft knock on the door stopped the latest spiral into the past. Dammit. Nothing good ever happened at this hour.

Flinging the covers off, she shoved her feet into her boots and stomped toward the door. “What’s wrong?” she asked as she flung the door open.

Dani stood in the doorway. “Nothing new,” she said. “But I knew you’d have trouble sleeping. I brought you something to help with that.”

She stepped out of the way and Ash slid into view.

“What the hell, Dani?” Taryn growled. She didn’t have time for this right now.

Who was she kidding? Her walls were down and Taryn didn’t have the protections in place around her heart for this right now.

“You’ll thank me later.” Dani shoved Ash toward the doorway. He wasn’t expecting it and stumbled forward. Taryn had to let go of the door to get out of the way.

Dani grabbed the handle and pulled it closed. Leaving Taryn alone with Ash.

Her best friend’s matchmaking was truly inappropriate and they were going to have words.

“Dani said you identified the mole. She thought you might need some company.” His voice was gentle. Quite the difference from when he was raging at her earlier.

“And she brought you here for what? To yell at me some more?” She was cranky and tired and sad. She didn’t want to spar with him. She just wanted to crawl back into bed, pull the covers over her head, and pretend that this hadn’t happened.

“That’s not why I’m here.” Ash turned his head, studying her room. Her private space.

What did he see when he looked around? Razor Jack’s was hers, but this room really represented who she was. She’d combined two rooms to create her living space. The entire space was decorated in soft neutrals with hints of metallics and blues and greens threaded throughout. It was her home and her refuge and her safe space.

And now Dani had let in the biggest danger to her heart.

“Then why are you here?”

“I’ve been where you are, Taryn. I remember the rage and the hurt and the sense of betrayal like it was yesterday. I get it. I’m here to listen.” He shoved his hands in his cargo pants. “Or I can go.” He took a step toward the door.

“Wait,” she said. If she let him leave now, she knew that they would never be close again. She didn’t want that, even if he was going to leave the city. “You’re talking about your last hack.” He’d told her about the betrayal.

He nodded.

“Does the feeling ever go away?”

His lips quirked in a sad smile. “It hasn’t yet.”

“Dammit,” she said with a sigh.

Taryn padded over to her couch and kicked off her boots. She gestured for him to join her. He took the cushion next to hers.

She curled her legs under her and leaned toward him. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice soft.

She pulled his arm around her and leaned close. The heat of his body warmed her. She didn’t dress skimpily for sleep—she’d dealt with too many late-night emergencies—but she briefly wished she wore something sexier than calf-length pajama bottoms and a T-shirt.

“It was one of the waitresses,” she told him quietly. “She’s on Vyne and has been selling our secrets to feed her habit.”

“That’s some nasty stuff,” he said.

“I didn’t even notice. This is my fault.”

“She’s the one who chose the drugs. You can’t blame yourself.”

“I know. But it’s hard not to.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “And I don’t know what to do with her. I can’t keep her on, but I can’t put her back on the street either.”

“Back on the street?”

“I rescued her from the street. Gave her a place to live, a job. I would have arranged for any training she wanted, but she just never seemed to... thrive. I failed her.” She choked back a sob.

Ash’s arms tightened around her and he tugged her onto his lap. For once she had no desire to call out his manhandling. Snuggling into him felt so good, she might give him a permanent pass.

“Do you, uh, do that often? Rescue girls from the street.”

“Every couple months,” she said tiredly.

“The teenager I saw coming out of your office a few days ago?”

“The newest,” she murmured.

“Huh,” he said, his chin against her temple. “I really picked the perfect person for Hope, didn’t I?”

Her only answer was a soft snore.