A tear slipped from my eye. It slid all the way to my jawline and lingered there. I didn’t dare talk. Not yet.

He kept going, his words biting now. “She was in the fucking grocery store. My brother Ben was with her, but he’d gone to the magazine section. He liked to check out the babes.” He lifted his mouth into a half-grin, one that didn’t reach his eyes. He wasn’t seeing me. He was looking through me, remembering. “They didn’t know Ben was there, or they would’ve gone for him. Maybe. She was asking a grocery clerk about bread when they shot her. Twelve times, point-blank range. Ben ran out the back, and they never heard him. They couldn’t hear anything except their own gunshots. Twelve fucking bullet holes in her.”

“Cole,” I whispered. My throat felt closed. “You don’t have to tell me.”

His hand covered mine on his cheek. He saw me again. “I do. I need you to know who I am.”

So he told me.

His brothers were gunned down, one after another, one a week. Then his older sister, the one who’d had the piano recital where their father was killed. They went into hiding after the first brother was killed, but it never mattered.

I heard the pain in Cole’s voice, and I couldn’t do a thing to appease it. He’d been stripped of his family.

I had to listen, and I couldn’t do a thing. Not a damn thing to take that pain away.

Then he got to the last. Two little sisters, twins.

They were in a safe house, but no matter where they hid, the Bertals found them. One sister hid in a closet, clinging to a stuffed manatee. She loved that manatee.

Cole laughed, but even that sound broke my heart. It was more a brief reprieve, like laughter from a dying man when he reads a fortune saying he’ll live a long and prosperous life. It was a hollow sound, but he kept on. The other sister had gone to the roof. They found her clinging to the side of the house. Who would look over the roof’s edge? They had, and she wasn’t shot. They’d stepped on her fingers until she let go.

“I was next until Carter went off the books.”

“What do you mean?” It hurt to breathe.

“He was supposed to guard me, but he saw what was happening. There was a rat in the family, so he took me away. He didn’t tell anyone. I lived because he defied orders.”

“That was when you worked with horses.”

He nodded, breathing in deep. “Carter saved my life. I stayed away for five years until they found me. They fucked up. They sent four men and circled the car, like they did with Carl. I was with friends that day, normal friends who had no idea who I was. They died. I lived. I got out, and I killed the fuckers. Then I came back and killed more of them.” A hard glint appeared in his eyes. “I took back my place in this family. My dad was the head. Now I am.”

He stared hard at me.

“It’s not going to work,” I murmured, my hand still resting against his cheek. I rubbed my thumb back and forth, tenderly. “I should be scared off. I know. I should’ve been scared when I first saw you walk into Gianni’s. You and those men—I knew right away you were dangerous. And I should’ve been scared when I saw you in the elevator, when you were holding Carl up. He was bleeding. The blood itself is scary enough, but it never happened. The fear never came. The only thing that scared me was when I talked to you, when I felt how much you could affect me.” I smiled, faintly. “Still does, to be honest, but no. I’m not scared of who you are. I’m not scared of what you can do. I’m not scared what it means to be at your side. I’m only scared of how much I can’t be without you. That terrifies me, all the way to the bone. But I’m still here. I can’t walk away from you.”

A light entered his eyes. It burned brighter with each word I spoke. “People die around me.”

“So be it.”

“You could die.”

“Not long ago, I was halfway there.”

He closed his eyes and exhaled a long, shaky breath. He looked back at me, and that light hadn’t dimmed. “I kill people.”

“I might’ve killed one last night.”

“No.” He shook his head against the pillow. “Your shot didn’t kill him. It was mine. I shot him twice in the head. That’s not you. Don’t take that on you. It’s not yours to carry.”

My hand shifted, and my thumb went to his lips. “Thank you for saving my life last night.”

His eyes darkened. “You were in that situation because of me. Don’t thank me for that.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should.”

But I didn’t. No thoughts held weight inside me when I was around Cole. My body was drawn to his, had been from the beginning, and as he moved over me, his lips finding mine, I knew what I’d said was true: I couldn’t walk away from him.

His lips moved down my throat.

Nothing could drag me away.

A few hours later, we woke again. Cole’s elevator was buzzing on repeat, like someone was leaning on the button. Cole slipped from bed, cursing under his breath. He pulled on some pants and padded barefoot out of the room.

Checking the clock, I saw it was past noon. Good gracious. It was time to get up. I’d showered the night before, but I showered again. I found a pair of shorts in Cole’s closet and grabbed a shirt. I didn’t think he’d care. Then I tried remembering where all of my stuff was from last night.

I’d grabbed everything when I got his keys, wallet, and phone. I’d taken my purse to the stables, and I’d had it slung over me—his car. I’d put in his backseat. Everything would be in there, including my phone. I was hesitant to leave the bedroom. Somehow it had become our private sanctuary, but I had to face the real world.