“So we went to the meet.” He closed his eyes and drew in a breath. “And Amanda showed up—goddamn her.” His voice hardened with emotion and memory. “She showed up, told me to just walk away, but I couldn’t, of course. She was living in some fantasy that these gangbangers would just let us go. So I stayed—and she stayed—and then—”
He clenched his fist, then punched it hard into the air. “And then the cops came and it turned into a clusterfuck. Someone pulled a gun, and then there were shots fired and I looked over, and she was on the ground, her white blouse stained with blood. She was dead before I got to her.”
He closed his eyes, the pain of the memory almost palpable.
When he opened his eyes, they were full of anger and grief. “She was shot and she died and goddammit, if she’d just trusted me and not betrayed me to the cops, she would still be alive. Probably have a boring husband and three kids, but she’d be alive.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I said gently, because that is what you say when someone is grieving.
His eyes were flat when he looked at me. “You know better than that. I didn’t have a gun, didn’t pull the trigger, but the law says it was my fault. And the law is right.”
“Felony murder,” I said under my breath, referencing the legal theory that holds culpable all participants in the crime. “I’m so sorry.”
“So am I,” he said. He tilted his head back, drew in a long gulp of air. “Anyway, I got sent to a scared straight camp. I met Evan and Cole there—which was about the only thing good the camp managed. That camp gave me the only real family I ever had.”
“I’m guessing you weren’t scared straight?”
“No,” he said, he drew in a breath, obviously calmer now. “But I realized I liked a cleaner approach to my adventures. I like puzzles and playing by my wits. And as I believe I already mentioned,” he added, with his eyes on me, “I like owning things that other people covet.”
“You did well, and you didn’t play by the rules.”
“That’s a fair statement.” His grin was all charm. “And I should probably make clear that for everything I’m talking about, the statute of limitations has long run its course.”
“I’ve no doubt,” I said dryly.
“At any rate, we played that game, the three of us. Mixing the legitimate and the not-so-legitimate for a while. We were still very young, and then when Evan started at Northwestern, he met Howard Jahn.”
“The entrepreneur.”
Tyler nodded. “An amazing man. Brilliant mind, exceptional businessman. He took us under his wing. Mentored us, really. And he completely turned our lives around.”
“You’re saying that you’re clean now?”
His smile was thin. “That’s what I’ve been saying all along.”
I looked at him, certain that he was telling me the truth … even while holding back. Even so, I was grateful for the glimpse into the child he was, as it told me so much more about the man he’d become.
I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for telling me,” I said. “I look at you and I feel like I’ve known you my whole life, when I barely know you at all.”
“You’re wrong,” he said. “We do know each other. We know what matters.”
“Do we?” I thought of the secrets I still kept. The ones I was certain that he was holding fast to as well. But at the same time, those secrets seemed small compared to everything I felt for this man. So much—and so much more than just sex. And that was both comforting and terrifying. “We’re moving so fast.”
“No,” he said gently. “We’re just moving at the speed of us.”
His words melted me a little, especially when he took my hand and pressed it to his heart, then pressed his palm over mine. I saw hunger in his eyes, but it was banked by a tenderness so profound it made me want to cry. “You move me, Sloane. Like no woman I have ever known.”
“Tyler—”
“Don’t talk,” he said. “Just kiss me.”
I did, and it was slow and deep and tender, and when he broke the kiss, it took me a moment to find my equilibrium.
“Our food is going to be a congealed and greasy mess,” I whispered.
“We could eat,” he said, but his voice promised something more delicious. “Or we could continue the—what did you call it—sex-a-thon? Your choice, Detective.”
“That’s not even a contest,” I said, my pulse already kicking up. “Where are you going to take me now?”