Page 36 of Edge of Desire

“I didn’t know a brow could smirk.” He pressed his lips together like he was trying not to laugh.

“And now you’re laughing at me. Go on and deny it, ’cause I know you will.”

“Avery, I didn’t do a brow smirk. I was only pondering your idea of a truce.”

“Well, it can’t work if you make fun of me.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “Can we just get back to this idea of yours?”

I cast him a suspicious look. How could I not? Every time I wanted to explain something, he laughed. And then there was that little thing about how he’d fabricated everything, from his name to his profession. He was an extremely good liar, so how could I know what was true and what wasn’t? And I told him that.

“That’s a fair observation. But I haven’t lied to you since we got off the motorcycle. I swear.”

My gaze bored into his and I didn’t see an ounce of dishonesty. My thumb and forefinger squeezed my bottom lip as I thought over everything. “Okay. I just want to say this. I don’t know if anyone was out to kill us. But for the sake of this conversation, let’s say they were. You threw everything to the wind and got me away from them. I’ll give you that. So, let’s move beyond it because I’m tired of the scenario replaying in my head. Which brings me back to where I was a minute ago about the truce. I’m not going to mention anything about what happened again. However, I want to know more about you, but I don’t know where you should start because you’re a blank slate.”

He began by telling me how his role with the DEA had taken him undercover, infiltrating the biggest drug cartel that was responsible for a massive amount of heroin and fentanyl being smuggled into the U.S. He worked in that role for over six years and even served time in prison.

“Prison? Why?”

“It was a part of being undercover.”

I massaged my temples. “Jeez, you really got screwed, didn’t you?” I couldn’t imagine doing that for any job.

“You have no idea.”

And then I realized what I’d said. What a dummy. I smacked myself in the forehead. “I’m sorry. That was a terrible thing to ask but I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know and don’t worry about it.”

He said it so casually, like it wasn’t a big deal. But I didn’t buy it. “Can you tell me about it? I mean prison not the other.” I was a bit curious on account of I’d never known anyone who’d spent time behind bars before. But then I realized what I said … again. What was wrong with me?

“Oh lord, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.” He was grinning at me. How could he grin when I asked him something like that? Then my big mouth blurted, “So, what was prison like?” I just needed to hide in the closest closet. Why the hell would he want to talk about it?

His eyes locked with mine, and I doubly regretted asking the question. Then I remembered the other day when I caught him in his bedroom, that awful day I nearly mauled the poor man. I recalled seeing all those scars on his torso.

“It was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced, and I’ll just leave it at that.”

“Enough said. I should never have asked you.”

“It’s fine. Everyone asks. Here’s the thing. Most guys my age who end up in prison have done some kind of time here and there ... small stuff, you know? I went straight to the big house and those guys in there made me pay my dues.”

His whole body tensed, and his leg bounced up and down. Whatever they had done to him was bad. I wasn’t stupid, so I could figure out some of it, but I couldn’t make myself think about it. This man had done all of that because of his job. “What the hell kind of people do you work for?”

“It was important to make the cartel believe I was one of them.”

“Fuck.” I had no other words for that.

I put my hand on his leg, and he flinched. Yeah, that didn’t work out too well, so I touched his hand instead. He seemed okay with that.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. I don’t know what else to say,” I whispered.

“Not really anything to say.” He shrugged it off as though it were nothing. But it was everything.

“You said there were things I needed to know. Was that it?”

A harsh laugh filled the room. “I wish. I’m fucked up. That’s the short version.”

“Well, damn, who wouldn’t be after going to prison?”

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