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13

JOANNA

I glared at West, my finger pressed against the firm muscle of his chest, as I waited to see how he’d respond.

He held my gaze. “Not for a lack of wanting on my part.”

My jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

He pinched my finger between two of his and lowered it, then wrapped his hand around mine. I was so shocked, I didn’t have the wherewithal to resist. “It’s always killed me that I wasn’t able to give you my real surname. There’s nothing I want more than for you to be Joanna Conti.”

I had no idea what to say to that.

“Besides.” He clutched my hand more tightly. “If we were legally married, you wouldn’t be able to get rid of me so easily. I’m obviously eager to wrap up this operation, but I also dread the day we do, because I know you’ll walk out on me without looking back.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” I asked softly, my insides tightening. I should snatch my hand away, but I couldn’t bring myself to.

“Stay with me.” His tone was pleading. “Let me prove to you how good we could be. ”

My eyebrows drew together. “How can I trust you when I’ll always know that you only pursued me because of a job? We’d never have met if you hadn’t set out to target me.”

He looked pained. “Things changed, baby.”

“Maybe so,” I allowed. “But I’ll always question the authenticity of every interaction we’ve had and wonder whether it was real or manufactured for the sake of your operation.”

He tried to cup my face, but I scuttled back. His face fell, and I felt a twinge of guilt over my reaction.

“I’ve never lied about the way I feel about you.” His hand inched toward me of its own volition, but then he noticed and dropped it to his side. “Perhaps our first meeting wasn’t random, and we moved more quickly than we otherwise might, but our love is real.”

Was, I wanted to say. It was real. Past tense.

But even I couldn’t be that petty when he was already upset. I could, however, make it clear exactly what he was up against if he wanted to continue to insist that he loved me.

“Do you know how it feels that your team chose to target me for this op because I was easy pickings? A single, biracial female detective with an innocent belief in fairy-tale love?” Even if I was ever able to accept his claims of love at face value, that would always sting. “Don’t worry. I’m not so naive anymore.”

He winced. “I love your romantic heart, Jo. And I’m sorry. So sorry. I wish I could take everything back, but I can’t. All I can do is keep telling you that I love you. Maybe I lied about my name and occupation, but you know who I am at my core.”

I shook my head. “The man I thought I knew was kind. He’d never hurt anyone like this.” My voice wavered. “Especially not me. ”

He exhaled sharply as the barb hit. “You’re right. He wouldn’t. There’s no excuse for what I did. But perhaps… perhaps you’d be willing to listen to the reason why I’ve crossed so many lines for this investigation?”

I didn’t really want to, but when he seemed so torn up about it, I couldn’t say no.

“Fine. But not here.”

He nodded and opened the door to Henry’s office. I’d noticed Henry wasn’t in the bar, and the office was empty, so he must not be working tonight. West closed the door. I waited for him to drag Henry’s chair around the desk and sit before I sat too. Somehow, being seated while he was standing would feel too vulnerable.

He was quiet for a moment while he searched for words. “Do you remember when I said the investigation started because an off-duty cop who’d been working on the failed warehouse bust was shot?”

“Yes.” I’d committed everything he’d told me to memory. I was too wary of the information falling into the wrong hands to write it down.

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “That cop was my father.”

Sympathy lanced through me. “I’m so sorry.”

If he’d lost his dad because of Ortez, it certainly explained why he would be so committed to this operation.

His lips pressed together, as if he were trying to get control of his emotions. “I was with him when it happened. He was shot by a sniper. I tried to save him, but it was a perfect shot to the center of his forehead. There was nothing I could do.”

I scooted my chair closer and took his hand, my throat tight, my chest aching. “That must have been awful. I’m sorry you went through that.”

He stared down at our joined hands, not speaking. I didn’t blame him. I couldn’t imagine how I’d react if one of my parents was shot dead in front of me. I’d be distraught. The image of their cold, lifeless eyes would never leave my mind. It was a miracle that West could sleep at night.

His hand rested limply in mine. “Mamma was a mess. She was so grief-stricken, I doubt she would have gotten out of bed if not for me those first couple of weeks.”

My tongue was thick in my mouth. Poor West. Not only devastated himself, but he’d had to be present enough to support his mother too.

None of this justified the way he’d used me, but as he’d said, it did go a long way toward explaining his actions.

“How is your mamma now?” I asked.

He’d told me both of his parents were dead. That was obviously only half true. He still had a mom out there somewhere, and who knew when the last time they’d been in touch was?

“My handler tells me she’s all right,” West said reluctantly. “I’ve only spoken to her a couple of times since I went undercover.”

My heart hurt for her. She lost her husband, and in a sense, she’d lost her son too, even though his undercover assignment was only temporary. Not to mention that she must fear he might meet the same end as his father, considering he was investigating his father’s killer.

Assuming she even knew. Perhaps he hadn’t told her what his operation was.

“I wish I could meet her.” I knew it was impossible. At least for now. If anyone suspected West of not being who he claimed to be, then I’d be leading them straight to his real identity the minute I got in touch with Mrs. Conti.

He smiled, although it was a little sad. “She’d like you.”

I barely managed not to scoff. “Yeah, because a workaholic cop is exactly what every mom wants for their little boy.”

His smile faded. “I’m serious. Mamma is big on loyalty and people who care. You’ve always been loyal and, no matter what you might think, you have a big heart.”

I tore my eyes from his. I didn’t know how to feel about any of this. It had been so much easier when I could hate him without knowing what was driving him. Now, being confronted with the fact he’d lost his father in one of the worst ways possible, it was difficult to maintain an emotional distance.

“Stop being so nice,” I muttered. “You don’t have to pretend your mamma would like me, or that you love me. It’s not part of your job anymore, and it’s confusing me.”

He raised our hands and dropped a kiss on the inside of my wrist, butterfly soft. “You’re right. It’s not part of my job anymore. That’s why you know I mean it when I say I love you. I’m going to keep saying it until you realize that.”

“Please—”

I cut him off when he pressed another kiss to my wrist. The pulse there fluttered wildly.

“I love you.” His lips moved against my skin, and he held my gaze, his green eyes searing into me with a silent promise. “I want you. And if De Luca flirts with you again, I’ll bury him.”

I lurched forward, closing the distance between us. Somehow, I ended up in his lap, and then we were kissing.

This was wrong. He was a professional liar. But his whispered promises didn’t sound like lies. They didn’t feel fake. Nor did the warning in his tone when he’d mentioned De Luca. And damn, it shouldn’t turn me on when he threatened someone, but it did.

I was messed up. But only when it came to him.

His lips touched mine, confident but gentle, as if he were giving me plenty of time to change my mind. I didn’t want to. He tasted so good and felt so familiar against me, but if I let myself go on pretending, I’d only regret it later, and that would hurt us both. Much as I was angry at West, he’d lost enough.

I reluctantly extricated myself from him and stood back, panting. “I should go home.”

His eyes flashed. “Do you have to?”

I met his gaze. “It’s for the best.”

One side of his mouth hitched up. “Damn, I hate that you’re right.”

His phone buzzed. He reached into his pocket and grabbed a phone—not the phone I’d always seen him with but a different one. Sleek, black, and obviously high tech. I raised an eyebrow. It seemed Sasha wasn’t the only person who had two phones.

“Hello?” he answered, holding it beside his ear.

I started to move, but he gestured for me to stop.

“Hold on a minute.” He lowered the phone and pushed the speaker button.

“I thought of something,” a female voice said. It only took me a few seconds to place it. Portia.

“What is it?” West asked.

I kept my mouth shut. He hadn’t told her he’d put the phone on speaker, and I’d rather not make her uncomfortable.

“Was a diary found in Sasha’s apartment?”

West glanced at me, and I nodded.

“Yes, it was,” he said.

“Well, I was thinking.” Portia talked rapidly, her tone on the verge of frantic. “I write down notes about my clients every time I see someone, and I know Sasha did the same. It helps us to remember what they like and dislike, and to make their time with us more personal. ”

“But… Sasha wasn’t an escort,” West said.

“No, I know.” Portia sounded impatient. “She did the same for repeat big spenders at the strip club, and it crossed my mind that she might keep notes every time she saw—you know, her big secret boyfriend.”

I pointed to my lips and then the phone, and West nodded, giving me permission to speak. “Portia, this is Joanna. We haven’t had a good look at the diary we found yet because it seemed very mundane. Perhaps she coded it somehow? Would you be able to come into the police station? With your help, we might be able to decode it.”

“No.” The reply was quick and firm. “I’ll meet you tomorrow to have a look at it, but not there, and not if I have to talk to anyone other than you and West.”

“Okay,” I agreed. “Just us. I’ll have to check the diary out of evidence first. What time suits you?”

“I’ll send West the when and where.”

The call cut off.