Page 125 of Wicked Sin

I don’t care.

I’m going home with Luke. Nothing else matters.

I’ve only ever knownone kind of date. Dinner—late, always late in Washington, because people don’t finish work until eight or nine. And then back to their place to screw. Sometimes a cocktail reception subs in for the dinner.

And that’s if there was even a date. Let’s be honest. Few of the relationships I had were healthy enough—or legit enough—to be able to go out in public together.

But even with all of those caveats, going on a date with Luke is something special.

We get ready together at my place. He’s basically moved in with me, because his house is still a crime scene. While I was still in the hospital, he went and picked up a bag of stuff.

Then he dropped it at my apartment and came straight back to my bedside.

It’s been a rough week.

Last night was the first night we’ve actually been able to sleep together in what feels like forever. And I slept like the dead—pun definitely not intended, way too soon.

Luke fussed over me all morning. “Are you sure you’re up for going out tonight?”

“I’m sure,” I reassured him each time.

I don’t know how much dancing I’ll do. Or he’ll do, for that matter. Last night was the first time I saw the massive bruise on his side.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Pretty much healed up.”

“I thought you were wearing a vest? Did I imagine that?”

“Those things slow the bullets down. That’s all. This one still felt like a pretty good kick to the side.”

I traced the bruise as gently as humanly possible. “Holy shit, Luke. It’s such a good thing that you were wearing…” I looked up at him. “Wait, why were you wearing your vest?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he’d said.

As we get ready for the date, side by side, I’m still worrying about it.

“Luke?”

He looks over at me, mid-shave. “Mmm?”

“Last night you dodged my question about why you were wearing a vest when you got home.”

His face tightens up. “I know, baby. I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“Because I spent every minute sitting by your hospital bed wondering if I should have handled that differently. You were smart. You called 911. I could have done that. I didn’t, and I’ll always regret that.”

Shock rolls over me as I realize what he’s saying. “You knew someone was in your house?”

“I wasn’t lying when I said my security system was good. She was hiding in the shadows, but yeah, I knew. As soon as I got home. I saw the alert on my phone.”

“But you called me to say good night.”

“I promised you I would. And I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I did anyway. I knew something was wrong.”

“See? I should have known that would be the case. And if I’d been smarter, you wouldn’t have been shot. Maybe it could have gone down differently.” He wipes off his face and comes to stand right in front of me. “No, baby, don’t cry.”

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