Page 42 of Dark Secrets

“Yes.” James helped Reagan tidy up the mats they’d laid down for sparring, stacking them against the far wall. “What’s that look?”

“No look. I just think it’s interesting.” She waited for a beat before asking, “Aren’t you going to ask what’s interesting?”

“I have no doubt you’ll tell me.”

Reagan snorted. “What’s interesting,” she replied, emphasizing the word, “is the fact that you hired outside the syndicate.”

“There's nothing interesting about that.” James straightened and shoved the last mat into place. “Declan hires outside the syndicate for his restaurants all the time. And plenty of people in Philly are looking for work.”

“Uh huh. And in the year you've been open, you've never hired one of them. I have seen literal strangers walk in off the street to ask if you're hiring, and you always tell them no.”

“So?”

“So.” Reagan tilted her head to study him. “What was different about her?”

Absolutely everything. That was the problem.

James shrugged. “She helped me out in a pinch when Maizy flaked, and she was good at her job.” He saw her cross her arms over her chest out of the corner of his eye.

“And that's the only reason?”

“Does there need to be another one?”

He turned away from the neatly stacked mats, hoping she’d drop it. She followed him at a jog to where they’d left their stuff, slipping on her coat and easing her hair out of the collar so it framed her face.

“How's dating going?”

“That's quite the segue.”

“Is it?” Her smile was wide and innocent. He didn’t believe it for a second. “Didn't you go out with Aisling Donahue a few times?” she continued. “How'd that go?”

“It was fine.” He pulled on his jacket and headed for the door. “She's nice.”

She followed him into the parking lot. “But you don't like her. At least not enough to get serious.”

“Maybe it’s because she's a cop.” He reached up to tug her hair when they paused between their parked cars. “Feels too much like dating my sister.”

Reagan swatted his hand away. “I am not a cop. I am a nerd who works with cops.” She paused, her eyes searching his face. “I think it's good you're moving on. Healthy. And I think you should do that with whoever makes you happy.”

Was she saying what he thought she was saying? Probably. Reagan’s brain always seemed to work three steps ahead of everyone else’s.

“And what if there are consequences for that?”

She waved a dismissive hand in the air. “You know me. I've always been more of an ask for forgiveness instead of permission kind of woman.”

He watched as she climbed behind the wheel of her sedan and navigated out of the parking lot. He stood there, considering Reagan’s words, until the wind bit through his jacket. He was ready to move on. That’s why he’d started dating again. But he hadn’t really expected happiness. At least not the kind of happy he’d had with Maura.

It wasn’t even something he considered a possibility until he met Delaney, until she tugged at him in ways only one other woman ever had. He didn’t quite know what to make of it. Or why the pull he felt was so strong.

He hadn’t really understood it with Maura either. He’d just never had a reason to question it before. Never had an invisible barrier that would have prevented them from taking any kind of relationship as far as they wanted it to go.

He’d long since given up pretending he didn’t want Delaney, didn’t want to run his hands over every inch of her, didn’t want to discover what kind of sounds she’d make while he was inside her. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t want to know every single thing about her even though he couldn’t return the kind of honesty he craved. But what he wanted might not matter anyway.

She was asleep when he got home the night before, and he’d momentarily avoided her final verdict on whether she was planning on leaving, either Philadelphia or his apartment, he wasn’t sure. Considering it was barely three in the afternoon, he didn’t anticipate he’d get off so easy today.

Which meant getting too hung up on what might or might not make him happy seemed useless when all of it was wrapped up in a woman who could very well be gone in less than twenty-four hours. If she was even still there when he got back.

In an effort to drown out the voices in his head, he cranked up the radio and got lost in navigating the after-school traffic, starting and stopping behind buses depositing kids in front of apartment buildings and at the end of streets lined with rowhomes.

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