went over that cliff and almost—”
He couldn’t even say the word, so all he said was, “I can’t lose her.”
“I do understand,” Ronan said gently. “And I envy you for it.”
Devlin waited for Ronan to say more; it was the first time his friend had even hinted at opening up.
But in the end, all Ronan said was, “They’ll keep her safe. They’ll keep you both safe.”
Chapter Nine
A shaft of sunlight coming in from the east-facing window wakes me, and I open my eyes to a new day. Hopefully a better day, though I have no complaints about the night I just spent in Devlin’s arms. He’d used me so deliciously, and now my body is stiff and sore in a way that I relish. Not because the sex was so incredible—though God knows it was—but because he’d needed it. Needed me.
And I’d needed him, too. The intensity. The passion.
Mostly, I’d needed to hear the promise he’d made to me. No secrets. Not ever again.
And I’d needed to hear him speak the reality I already knew. That Devlin had stayed hidden all these years for a reason, and now the wolves are circling. He’d told me they want to hurt him. To punish him.
And the best way to punish Devlin is to hurt me.
I sit up slowly, letting that unpleasant reality fill my head. A year ago, that truth would have invigorated me. It would have lit a fire inside me. A passion. A need.
A yearning to go out and face whatever sonofabitch intended to come after me. I’d go into the fight intending to win. And, hell, I probably would. It’s easy to fight when you don’t fear the outcome. Because when had I ever feared death? On the contrary, I’d welcomed it. Expected it.
Death was like an old friend, opening a locked door and inviting me into the party.
Not anymore.
Now, there was fear. Not of death—after so many years of living and breathing nihilism, I’ve banished that particular fear. Instead, my fear is of not being alive. Not being here.
My fear is of not being with Devlin.
Death isn’t to be feared because of what it is. If death is to be feared at all, it’s because of what it can do—take the man I love from me. Or take me from the man I love.
They’re going to try. They’re probably coming right now.
The words fill my head, like the mantra of a Texas Marshall warning his deputy in one of the old westerns my dad liked to watch after a long day’s work.
I stand up, shaking myself like a dog ridding itself of fleas, only I’m trying to get rid of these dark thoughts.
I glance back at Devlin, still asleep, his face turned away from the window and the beam of light that had awakened me. He’s wearing pajama bottoms, and I frown, wondering when he’d gotten up during the night.
Not that it matters, I think, and I go close the blinds, then move quietly into the bathroom.
I freshen up, then splash cold water on my face and clean away the smear of mascara beneath my eyes. Then I slip on the short silk robe I keep hanging behind the door, and pad quietly out, careful not to wake Devlin as I leave the bedroom area and head into the main room.
As soon as I’m past the wall of bookcase, I turn back, confused as I realize it’s open. But I’m sure that Devlin closed it completely last night, enclosing us completely in the passion that had gripped both of us.
At first, I think he must have gotten up for a snack, but it’s not just the bookcase and his PJs that are odd. There’s a blanket on the couch, folded neatly, along with a pillow I keep in the trunk that serves as a coffee table in case a rare guest needs to camp on the sofa.
“What the hell?” I mutter, then jump when the walls seem to reply.
“Ronan.”
I spin around, to see Devlin standing behind me. “Ronan?”
“He showed up last night.”
“I didn’t hear him knock.”
“That’s because he didn’t.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “You’re slipping, Mr. Saint. You sneakily make your girlfriend’s condo a fortress, but just any old person can break in?”
Ronan Thorne, of course, is not any old person. The guy has mad skills and we both know it. Even so…
“He has your bypass code,” Devlin says, and that surprises me.
“He what? My key code?” All the units in the building have keypad locks