Page 40 of Hunted

“He’s not that kind of a cat.”

“I didn’t know there was more than one kind,” he said.

“Well, there are. There are the lean, nimble, athletic cats and then there are cats like Jax. Round, lazy, spoiled cats who prefer being pampered to hunting big game. He needs me."

She paced to the little stove and set a kettle of water on the burner, then rummaged in the cupboards.

“Lexi, it’s only been two days.”

She located the box of hot cocoa mix he’d bought, opened a packet and poured it into a disposable cup. Her back was to him. She wore a T-shirt and, as far as he could tell, nothing else.

She looked toward him, tried for a smile, but it was crooked and endearingly sad. “You want a cup?”

“He’ll be okay for a little bit longer. The good thing about a cat like Jax is that it can last forty-eight hours without food and probably not even feel hungry.”

She nodded. “Maybe.”

“We’ll get your father’s papers from McManus tomorrow. We’ll get that formula into the right hands. After that it won’t matter.”

Her brows bunched together. “There is no formula,” she said, her voice a little stiffer than before. But it sounded to Romano as if she was mainly saying it to convince herself. She tore open a second envelope, dumped it into a second cup, then poured the hot water. “And even if there was, what difference will it make? White will still come after us if we’re seen up here, won’t he?”

“Yes, he’ll still come after us.”

She stirred the cocoa, carried a cup in each hand and sat down on the edge of his bed. He sat up, taking his cocoa from her hand, touching her fingers as he did so, wishing he hadn’t.

“But I’ll make sure you—and your cat—are someplace safe by then. When White gets here, there’s only going to be one person waiting for him.”

She held her cup between her hands, her eyes probing his. “You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?”

He didn’t nod, didn’t answer. Just averted his gaze and sipped from his cup.

“What if he kills you, instead?”

“He already did that.” Damn, there he went again, blurting things that were none of her business. He took another drink, set the cup on the floor.

“He killed your family,” she whispered. “But not you. You’re still alive.”

“My body is, Lexi. That’s all, though. There’s nothing left inside.”

“There is.” She put her cup on the floor, not having taken a single sip of the liquid it held. He shook his head in denial, but she caught his face between her palms, held it still, staring so deeply he felt her touch in his soul. “There is, Romano. I see it, right there in your eyes.”

“No—”

“You don’t want to be alive anymore, because it hurts. You wish it had been you. But it wasn’t you. It was them, and they’re gone, and it’s horrible and unfair. But they wouldn’t want you to stay dead inside. They’d want you to go on. Do your grieving and miss them and love them always. But go on.”

His hands rose, closing over hers on his face. He moved them away slowly, and he shook with emotion. “I can’t do that,” he whispered roughly.

“You can, if you just?—”

“You don’t understand, dammit!” His words exploded from his chest, vibrating through the small camper, making Lexi jerk in surprise. He released her hands, clasped her shoulders, his fingers sinking into her flesh. “It’s my fault they died. I screwed up. I underestimated that bastard, and he killed them. He killed Wendy and he killed my boys because of me.” He released her suddenly, shoving her away from him as he did. He’d had no choice, because he’d been damn close to clinging to her and letting the magic in those brown eyes heal him.

He no longer doubted that it could.

She scrambled off the bed, and he didn’t want her coming back to him. If she touched him again, he’d do something stupid. He turned onto his side, facing the wall.

Lexi stayed where she was. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was."

---