Page 55

AURORA

I lie in bed between two muscled space heaters, both light sleepers. I’ll wake them if I try to climb out of bed, but when footsteps thud in the living area, my boredom gets the best of me.

Plus, the gait is familiar, and we need to talk.

Carefully, I free my legs from the blanket and crab crawl to the end of the bed. My boys must have been up late. Neither of them moves when I crack open the door.

Peeking my head out, I don’t see anyone. Ricky is either in the kitchen or in his room. I haven’t heard the clanking of the elevator, so he hasn’t left.

I quietly close the door behind me and dash to the kitchen on my tip-toes. The smell of fresh coffee hits me, and my stomach growls. Maybe I can sneak in a cup before Ethan wakes.

Ricky’s head turns as I enter the doorway, his gaze landing on my excited face before dropping to my bare legs. In my defense, Ethan’s shirt is as long as a dress, ending at my mid-thigh.

Plus, Ricky has seen me in less.

“What are you doing, princess? Trying to get me killed?”

“I wanted to catch you before you left. Are you going out for breakfast? Can I go with you?”

He leans against the counter, coffee mug held to his lips. He’s wearing his typical black cargo pants and black T-shirt. His blond hair is getting longer, curling around his baseball cap.

“You sure you want to? You haven’t talked to me in weeks.”

There’s an unmistakable bite in his tone, and his heated stare roams my body with a different type of assessment. No longer am I his client and he my guard. He never was. He hasn’t taken a penny from me, which makes sense if the government is paying him.

I cock my head and cross my arms over my chest. “Want to take me to breakfast or not?”

He sets the mug down and holds up a finger. “One: Ethan will have my nuts. Two: Your fiancé will hunt us down. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a tracker embedded in your neck. Three: The twins will have every mafia wannabe tailing us.”

I roll my eyes and release a disappointed sigh. I’m ready to give up and return to my bedroom when he pushes off the counter and stands in front of me. I’m tall for a girl, but he’s well over six feet, so I have to peer up at him.

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and my stomach flip-flops, my lips parting at his dark look.

“Breakfast with a side of mayhem sounds fantastic. Go get dressed so I don’t have to add murder.”

I retrieve my clothes and phone from the bedroom, and then I dress in the hall bathroom.

I doubt my boys will be awake anytime soon, but I shoot them a text to prevent panic when they find me missing.

The cold New York air is exhilarating. Icy snowflakes stick to my eyelashes, and I tilt my face to the cloudy sky.

Ricky hovers next to me, although the streets aren’t crowded. “Did you bring gloves or a hat?” He interlaces our fingers and squeezes my hand to get my attention.

“I’ll be fine. I like the snow.”

“You know I hate that word.” He yanks my hood over my head, ending my fun. “The last thing I need is you getting sick again, princess.”

I furrow my brows. “Since when did you start calling me princess?”

“Since you started collecting a harem of men,” he says matter-of-factly.

My jaw drops. “Who are you right now?”

He lets out a deep laugh, a sound I haven’t heard in a while.

It sends a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the cold.

More and more, I’m finding I don’t know the real Ricky.

He’s been quiet and distant, nothing like the giant teddy bear he pretended to be. ..if he was pretending at all.

We walk the few blocks to a café, only stopping once for Ricky to check on a homeless guy in an alleyway, mumbling something about his boots.

We take our seats at a table, remove our jackets, and order. The waitress delivers our food within minutes, and we remain awkwardly silent.

I pick at my Tiffany-blue painted nails before I cover my hands with my sleeves to stop the anxious habit, swallowing my nerves. “When you and I flew to New York, you took my phone from me.”

The muscle in his jaw flicks. “You were getting flustered.”

“Did you know Jax was in trouble?”

He shakes his head and averts his gaze. “I wasn’t there.”

“But you knew? You had someone watching him?”

“Not in the hotel room, no. It was impossible.”

“They could’ve stopped him. You could’ve told me.” Tears push at my eyelids. “I could’ve stopped him or Ethan.”

He takes my hand and interlaces our fingers. “I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

I rip my hand away. “You let him?—”

“Following Jax that night allowed my team to identify two security guards who worked to scope out young girls and lead them not only to that penthouse, but to men associated with Kyle. Casinos are hotspots for human trafficking. Every asshole we apprehend means fewer girls become victims. I’m sorry, angel. ”

I hang my head, my mind a battlefield. He’s right, and my soul aches.

He lifts my chin. “We ensured he got back to his room safely.”

“Why not just arrest them? Kyle and these other men.”

“It has to be done strategically. If we go after one, it will tip off the others.” His knuckles brush along my cheekbone. “No more about the case. I’ll work with Jax when the time is right.”

“Why not go back to LA?” I don’t mean for it to sound rude or dismissive. “Until Jax is ready,” I clarify.

Something passes through his eyes. “You want me to leave?”

My slightly wind-burnt cheeks flush as I recall the days we spent together. How attentive he was. How comfortable we were together. “Am I why you’re here?”

“Do you want me here?”

This is getting exasperating. “You lied to me.”

A curt nod is all he gives me. “I did.”

“You carried my bags,” I say, appalled and a little disgusted with myself.

“I like carrying your bags.”

“You made my food.”

He shrugs. “I like feeding you. I still do.”

“I’m engaged.”

“I’m well aware.” There’s that jealous undertone again.

“You can’t want this.”

He settles into the red leather booth, arms crossed over his bulging chest, a smirk playing on his lips. “Want what?”

He’s going to make me say it. Why? This isn’t my confession to make. I’m giving him the opportunity to talk alone, and he’s still dragging his feet, maybe teasing me. Either way, he can forget it.

I slide my artisan mocha closer, delighting in the heart-shaped foam. I almost don’t want to ruin it. After a large sip that makes my soul dance with happiness and bravery, I stand from the table.

He grabs my wrist before I can walk away. “Where you going?”

“To get a bag and a to-go cup. If you’re going to continue talking in circles, we might as well leave. Why would I risk getting into trouble with my guys if you can’t even muster the balls to be honest with me?”

Shock washes over his face. “You want honesty?” He releases my wrist. “Sit. Eat.”