Page 87 of Lost in the Moonlight

But I had to let him go. I had to be strong enough to do it.

As I plated the food, Lincoln came up behind me, hands running over my bare skin beneath the sweatshirt, and my sore, tired body ignited. I pushed them away, laughing as I said, “You’re impossible.”

“Another word I might have to enact penalties for.” His eyes twinkled, and heat flooded my face. He slid a finger down along my cheeks, as if tracing the color. “I love your blush.”

My body froze at the L word falling from his lips before I rolled my eyes at myself. He hadn’t said he lovedme. As if realizing I was two seconds from freaking out again, he shifted the mood by lowering his voice and saying, “I love it even more when your flush and hot because I’m inside you.”

His words spiked the desire all over again, scoring me with its spark. I swallowed hard and shoved a plate at him. “My body has screamedgive, remember?”

“I remember. And I also remember every moment that led to your body screaming.”

We’d just sat down at the table when his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and greeted whomever it was with a barked hello that reminded me of the first time I’d been in his kitchen. A grumpy man who completely contradicted the smiling man from two seconds before. A man who was no more the real Lincoln than the one I’d seen on magazine covers.

I loved that I knew the real him even if I couldn’t keep him.

The L word that had slipped into my thoughts as easily as it had slipped from his lips made my head spin dizzily.

“So, you’re saying it couldn’t have been Poco last night.” Lincoln’s words had my fork clanging to the plate. He turned to me with a frown before saying, “Hold on, I’m putting you on speaker.” He put the phone down, hit the button, and then said, “Okay, go ahead.”

“Special Agent Johnson reported in early this morning,” the voice on the other end said, and I assumed it was his Secret Service contact, Hardy. “Poco was at Flat Mike’s in a back room when the rocks were thrown, and from there, he went to a woman’s apartment a town over, staying holed up there until early this morning.”

Acid crept up my throat. If it wasn’t Poco…that left Aaron and the Viceroys.

Lincoln reached for my hand, squeezed it. “So where does that leave us?”

“He still could have paid someone to throw the rocks and leave the note,” Hardy said. “I’ll have Johnson swing by and pick it up before he heads back to D.C. But at the moment, I’m not sure I can do more. My hands are pretty much tied unless you let the Secret Service protect you again. My boss isn’t going to just let me keep sending our agents down rabbit holes—not when we all have actual assignments.”

I could tell Lincoln was thinking about it. That he was willing to sacrifice the privacy he’d come to Cherry Bay seeking just for me. I shook my head vehemently. The frown between his brows grew, and he turned back to the phone. “I’ll think about it and get back to you.”

Hardy sighed. “Be safe, Picasso.”

I heard the legitimate concern and caring in the man’s voice. I may never have met him, but I still liked him because I could tell Lincoln was much more than just an assignment to him. They were friends.

Silence settled down between us. The food on my plate just made the bile in my throat grow, and I pushed it away, rising from my chair. Lincoln stopped me before I got too far with a soft hand on my wrist.

“Hey,” Lincoln said softly. “You heard him. This could still be Poco.”

“I have to call Deputy Marshal James. I need to call my mom. I shouldn’t have waited this long. I shouldn’t have—” He pulled me into his lap, arms surrounding me. Comfort. Safety. Belonging.

Oh, how I ached to keep it. Keep him.

His phone buzzed again, a text tone rather than a ring. Whatever he saw made him growl once more. “What the hell?”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, and I leaned in, only to freeze.

The person texting had sent an image of Lincoln and me. We had our hands twined together just as we had when we’d left his house to go to the store yesterday.

Everything slowed. My vision turned spotty, and my lungs forgot to breathe.

The painful cramp in my stomach finally broke my trance, and I made a mad dash for the hall bathroom. I barely made it to the toilet in time.

I’d done it. I’d burned my life down and Mom’s along with it.

We’d be relocated. Our life here would be wiped away.

I banged a fist on the wall next to me in fury and frustration. All self-directed.

The only tiny blessing in this was that at least Lincoln would be safe because it would force us apart.

---