He led the way past a private door and up a narrow staircase. “There’s an entrance outside the building, too,” he explained. “But I wanted to be able to go back and forth from the bar.” He unlocked a door near the top of the stairs and ushered her inside.
Her breath slid out in a slow whistle. “You’ve done an amazing job.” He had. War enjoyed working with his hands. She knew that. He was, ah, very good with those hands.
The building was historic, like all the others along this block. He’d obviously spent a great deal of time restoring the second level. The hardwood floor gleamed. An antique chandelier hung overhead. A long, elegant couch waited to the right. There was another door there, one leading out…
Curious, Rose padded toward that door with its frosted glass. Her fingers curled around the knob, and she pulled the door open.
Trouble For Hire, Private Investigations. The words had been etched onto the frosted glass. “It’s official, hmm?”
“Folks always said I was trouble. Guess the name stuck.”
She could see a small lobby in the outer room. Another door—one that had several locks, all-bolted—and she suspected that door led outside.
“The bathroom is this way.”
She shut the door. Turned back toward him. Stilled. His hair was tousled. His eyes had never seemed so dark—or so full of emotions. He wasn’t staring at her like he wanted her. No, it was far, far more than that. He was staring at her like—
He glanced away. “Go down this hallway. Take a right. The bathroom is in there. You’ll find some towels. Soap. Everything you should need.”
She didn’t go down the hallway. She found herself closing in on him. Rose wanted him to look at her again, the same way he’d just done. She needed him to do it—
“I was thinking…I know where we need to search next. Provided, of course, that you’re up for another B&E.”
His words had her doing a quick stumble.
“Dylan got his intel on me too quickly. I’m sure it was fed to him by Gary the Sleaze, and I want to know just when he got it. Just how long Dylan has been using his services.”
“We’re breaking into Gary’s house?”
“We’re swinging by his office.” He waved a hand toward his own office. “A PI keeps the good intel locked away. I’m betting Gary has intel on Dylan.”
“Maybe we should try going straight to Gary. Asking him for what he has. Instead of, you know, pulling another B&E.” She took a few more steps toward him.
War’s gaze dipped toward her. “Not loving the life of crime, huh?”
“It seems risky. Let’s try Option A first. The option where we ask nicely.”
His hand tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “But, baby, I thought we covered that I didn’t do nice so well.”
She inhaled his crisp, masculine scent. “Something tells me that when you want to be nice, you can be. That you will do it amazingly well.”
His hand lingered against her cheek. “Don’t be so sure. I tried being the nice guy with you. Thought it gave me an in with you, but my true colors showed, and you couldn’t get away fast enough.” His hand started to drop.
She caught it. “You want me to trust you with my heart?”
A grim nod.
“Why?”
A half-smile curled his lips but didn’t lighten his eyes. “Don’t you know?”
“I’d like to have things clearly spelled out for me. That way, there is no confusion.” No thinking she knew only to have her heart shattered again.
“I want you to trust me with it…because you fucking own my heart.”
She shook her head. An instinctive move because he could not have meant—
“You own my heart. It’s been yours the whole time. You just have to decide what you want to do with it.”
For a moment, she couldn’t move at all. “You, um, that’s kind of a poetic thing to say.”
“And I’m not a real poetic guy.”
“That’s not what I meant—”
“I know what I am. I’m the bastard who gets shit done. The one not afraid to play dirty. To do the dirty deeds that are necessary. I don’t usually have pretty words. I don’t say the right words. I screw up shit and that’s just life.” His lips thinned. “But I want to be different with you. You make me different.”
Her breath sawed out. What he was telling her…the way he was looking at her again…
“You matter to me,” he said simply. “Us being together—it always mattered to me.”
“You were furious with