Page 89 of Whistleblower

I take a hearty bite, and I’ll admit, the combination of the piping hot espresso mixed with the melting chocolatey gelato is pleasant. I pop a dripping raspberry in my mouth—whole—to complete the experience. But it’s not the religious experience my dad claimed it to be.

“I just thought it’d be more mind-blowing the way Dad talked about it.” I compose another spoonful and hold it out to Linc. Like the gentleman he is, he swallows before responding. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him speak with his mouth full.

“Your dad was referring to homemade gelato and freshly ground espresso in Italy. It’s a little different from store-brand. All the food in Italy is superior.”

“You’ve been?”

“Mhm.”

“France?” I ask and he nods. “Greece?” He nods again. “Spain, India, Thailand?”

“Yes, to all three, Bambi. It’d be easier to tell you where I haven’t been. Before PALADIN got into bed with the FBI, I spent more time out of this country than in it.”

“Huh.”

“What?” he asks, finding my eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. There’s just still so much I don’t know about you.”

Taking the spoon, he stabs it into the melting gelato once more and pops another bite into his mouth. He then pulls out the remaining items from his grocery bag. A nice bottle of prosecco and a card in a cream envelope. He grabs my hand, bringing the card along and tossing it onto the coffee table before he pulls us onto my living room couch. Draping my legs over his, he rubs the arches of my feet.

“Okay, best birthday ever.” I groan in appreciation at my unexpected foot massage.

“What do you want to know?”

“Hm?”

“About me. What do you want to know?”

“Linc, I don’t want to pry. I understand your life needs to be as private as possible.”

“But there are things you’re curious about?”

My mouth falls open. “Obviously.”

“Then ask.” He stops the concentric circles he’s drawing with his thumbs against my arches. Gazing at me with those panty-droppers he calls eyes, he elaborates. “I think the fewer secrets between us, the better. I want you to know me. As I said, I won’t lie to you, so just be careful what you ask because I don’t want to tell you something that will end this.”

“No passes?” I ask.

“None. No conditions. No lies.”

I rub my hands together wickedly and for the briefest moment, he looks nervous.

“When’s your birthday? And, I mean your actual birthday, not what’s on your fictitious driver’s license.”

He chuckles. “April ninth. But I really am twenty-eight.”

“I believed you,” I say, wiggling my toes, encouraging him to continue with the foot rub. “How come you’ve never been a boyfriend before?” He arches his brows, so I add, “Besides the obvious. I mean, you offered with me, so it’s not impossible.”

He blows out a breath slowly as he contemplates his response. “I’m not interested in having multiple women if that’s what you’re asking. It’s simply that when I’d see a woman I’d picture how much simpler and safer her life would be without me in it, so it’d be easy to keep our interactions…minimal. I felt like I was doing the kinder thing. But with you…” He runs his thumb over his eyebrow, his expression straining. “I… I’m having a little trouble picturing your life without me in it. I know you think I’m being gallant by wanting to be with you, but it’s actually incredibly selfish and reckless.”

“Well, good,” I respond and he cocks his head in confusion. “I needed something to knock you off that pedestal I put you on.”

He lets out a hearty laugh. “You’re something else, Bambi. Anything else you want to know?”

“How many people have you killed?” His smile immediately disappears and there’s silence between us again. “You said no passes,” I remind him as his grip tightens around my foot. His gaze falls to the floor and I hate the way his expression looks tormented. Suddenly the pressure on my foot hurtles past uncomfortable into outright pain.

“Linc! Ow!”

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