“You took it.”

“Took it, cleaned it. Left it there until the night I’d picked, then I spent the night at a friend’s house—to this day my friend thinks I left her place to sleep with Tommy Marquette—and drove to my dad’s. He was working nights, so it was easy to get in the garage, get the gun, and get out.”

I drew in a breath, trying to push away the visual memories. “It was summer, and Harvey always slept with the light on. He was punishing my mother for something—I don’t remember what—and had her locked in the bathroom. So I just got myself set up outside the window as far away as I trusted my aim. There was a rock wall, and I used it to keep the gun steady. I watched, got him in the sights. And then I pulled the trigger. After that, I tossed the gun in the lake and went back my friend’s house.”

“And it was easy,” Tyler said.

I nodded. “It was.”

“That’s because it was justice.”

I shook my head. “No. No, I snapped, and I took it too far. Justice would have been him in a cage for the rest of his life. It wasn’t my right to take him out.” I looked at him, held his eyes so that maybe he would understand. “That made me the same as him.”

“The hell it did. You protected yourself. You protected your mother. The police had already failed you. What the hell else were you supposed to do?”

“You asked me once why I became a cop. Harvey Grier is one of those reasons. It’s like redemption. It’s like a second chance.”

He shook his head. “No. No, you’re wrong. You think you crossed a line, but you didn’t. He was vile. He was a monster. There’s nothing wrong with killing a monster.”

He took my hands and held the tight. “You did the right thing. Back then to protect yourself. Even tonight to protect me. You’re one hell of a cop. And I promise you that justice is safe in your hands.”

I managed a thin smile. “That’s a nice compliment,” I said, “coming from a criminal mastermind.”

“I’m squeaky clean,” he countered with a grin.

I stroked his cheek, suddenly extraordinarily tired. “I wish I could believe that,” I said. “Because that’s the fundamental gap between us. And there’s nowhere we can go from here.”

“Bullshit,” he said, then kissed me so deeply I thought I might drown in it. “I already told you. I get what I want. And I don’t do things halfway. You’re already mine, Sloane. The rest is just making the pieces fit together.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Warm hands stroked my back, easing me out of sleep.

I started to turn over, but Tyler whispered in my ear. “No. Close your eyes and drift. I have to get up early for meetings. But you’re too tempting to pass up. Just stay there.”

I did, moaning as his hands gently spread my legs, then explored me fully. Soft, feather touches. Gentle kisses. Caresses designed to soothe, not tease.

Gently, he stroked my sex until I was wet and ready. I made a small sound of pleasure, my hips moving in anticipation even though I liked this treat, this morning wake-up call.

Then he was over me, his hands spreading me so his cock could slip inside me. He thrust rhythmically, and I could sense his climax coming.

Each thrust moved me against the sheet, sending soft strokes over my clit, teasing and firing my body so that I bumped close against the chasm, but never quite reached that edge.

Tyler leaned forward then, grabbing my shoulders as he levered himself deeper and then, with a low moan of male satisfaction, exploded inside me before lowering himself to the bed, his arm and leg draped over me.

“I couldn’t resist your temptation,” he said, when I turned my head to smile at him. “Turn over and let me touch you. I’ll take you the rest of the way.”

I shook my head. “No, I like it. Still sleepy and aroused. I’m going to go back to sleep and dream of you.”

His brow lifted and he bent down to kiss me. “In that case,” he said, “have very sweet dreams.”

I drifted off to the sound of the shower. And lost myself in those sweet dreams until fingers of sunlight sneaked into the room to tickle my nose. I sat up slowly, feeling gloriously used, then laughed when I saw the Hershey’s Kiss that Tyler had left on the pillow beside me.

I knew that he had a full plate today, and so we had planned to meet at Destiny after my shift. Now, I stretched in bed, feeling warm and happy and feminine.

Last night had been both good and bad, but in the end, I couldn’t deny that I felt closer now to Tyler than I’d ever felt to anyone. And when we’d gone to sleep, my exhaustion so overwhelming that he’d carried me to bed, then spooned against me, his strong arms holding me close and keeping me safe.

It had felt romantic and sensual.

It had felt like love.

I stretched across the bed to grab my phone, pleased to see I didn’t have to rush. I slid out of bed, then decided to forego the fluffy Drake robe for one of Tyler’s button-down shirts. Foolish perhaps, but I liked being wrapped in his scent.

I found frozen waffles in the freezer and popped one in, then sat down at the kitchen table with the paper Tyler had left there. But I couldn’t concentrate on the news. Last night was too fresh in my mind, and my thoughts were a jumble.

Squeaky clean.

That’s what he said, and I desperately wished it was true. Hoped it was true. I could imagine a life with Tyler, though I told myself not to think like that.

Thinking like that only led to disappointment.

Still, there was no denying that we fit together in so many ways. And now—now that he knew about my stepfather, I had no more secrets from him.

It felt good. It felt honest.

The waffle popped and I pulled it out of the toaster with two fingers, then searched the fridge for syrup. When I didn’t find any, I settled on peanut butter. I slathered it on thick, then took a bite, remembering the look in his eyes when I’d blurted out my secret.

He’d known. I still didn’t understand how, but I guess what he said was true—he really did see me.

I took another bite, only this time it felt too thick to swallow. I spit it out into a napkin, then went to the sink. I turned on the faucet and just stood there, looking at the water draining away.

He’d known.

True, we had a connection—there was no denying that.

But still, he’d known. And in such a short time.

If he’d known after only a few days and even fewer facts, then how the hell could my father have missed the truth?

Unless he hadn’t missed the truth.

I stumbled back to the table and fell into the chair, the thought enough to make me go limp.

Did he know?

I licked my lips and, before I could talk myself out of it, picked up my phone.

He answered on the first ring. “Hey there, daughter o’ mine. How’s the hip?”

“It has a hole in it,” I said. “Otherwise it’s fine.”

“Funny girl. What’s up?”

“I—Daddy, I wanted to ask you something.”

“All right,” he said, his voice softer now. “Go ahead.”

“It’s … about when I was a kid. Living with Mom. Did you know—” I sucked in a breath. “Daddy, Grier abused her.”