Page 56 of Dirty Gambit

“Robert.”

Lena made a simple humming sound and shifted to the next picture without batting an eye at the revelation, one of Jaxon’s parents at some dinner party with Aunt Frankie and several others Jaxon couldn’t bother to remember. Behind her back, Aunt Frankie tilted her head and met his gaze, her expression questioning, but he was as in the dark about Lena as she was. One thing was clear, however, he would have felt a lot more differently about her if Lena had reacted the way most people did when faced with the reality of Frankie’s past.

Instead, she resumed her searching as if nothing had changed, as if the most she’d learned about Frankie was her preferred hair color. Her easy acceptance and respect made it that much harder to let her go.

As if sensing his eyes on her, Lena turned her head. Her gaze caught his over her shoulder and locked. He had no idea what she was thinking. Her face was a solemn mask of someone used to being let down and broken. It gripped at him, closing around his chest until it was all he could do to keep from going to her and gathering her up into his arms.

“Where are you from, Lena?” Frankie asked, severing their link.

Lena turned to the other woman fully. “Everywhere.”

Frankie raised a brow. “Army brat?”

Lena chuckled. “Just a brat. Foster care,” she confessed.

“Ah!” Frankie gingerly set Jessie down and pushed to her feet. “Why don’t I have rooms made up for everyone. Supper should be ready soon and I’m sure you’ll want to freshen up.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Lena murmured. “I won’t be staying.”

“You’re not leaving,” Jaxon interrupted. “I mean it, Lena.”

Her lips pinched into a line between impatience and pleading. “You know why I can’t stay.”

“There is nowhere safer than here,” Jaxon argued. “Stay the night. Have a proper shower, a hot meal, and an actual full night of sleep. We can talk about everything else in the morning.” He rose to his feet, hand up to stop her when she opened her mouth. “Don’t make me cuff you.”

Frankie’s eyes widened in horror. “Jaxon!”

Lena and Jaxon ignored her, both trying to win the battle of wills flaring up between them.

“One night, Lena,” he stressed.

“Fine, but I’ll sleep on a sofa somewhere or a square of floor. You don’t have to go through any trouble for me.”

Frankie gave a loud snort that Jessie found hilarious. “You are not sleeping on the floor.” She bent at the waist and scooped Jessie up into the air. The girl squealed, delighted. “Isn’t that right?” She pressed a kiss to the toddler’s cheek. “We have a hundred beds in this place. I’m sure we can spare one.” With that, she started towards the door, pausing only once to look over at Jaxon. “We’ll talk later. In the meantime, why don’t you show your non-friend to one of the guestrooms?”

Neither of them watched her leave. Jaxon watched Lena, waiting for her to bolt. She watched him in return, waiting for him to relent.

It dawned on him that they were both standing in the same room together with no cuffs or guns between them. The last time that happened was in his parent’s library when she’d pulled the rug out from under him just by walking into the room. She hadn’t looked defeated and terrified then.

Her eyes had been bright and teasing, her strides confident. She’d stood before him with the air of someone who had done and seen it all, a worldly glow that had captivated him. Then she’d opened her mouth and he’d been done for. In retrospect, he probably should have felt like a grade A idiot for the way he’d easily fallen into her trap, but he knew he would do it all over again for those few minutes in his father’s study with a few minor changes like literally everything that happened afterwards.

“What are you going to tell her?” Lena asked, breaking into his thoughts.

Jaxon shrugged. “The truth. She’ll know if we lie.” He expected her to argue, but she only nodded. “Come on. You look exhausted.”

To his amusement, she frowned at him. “You’re not supposed to tell a lady she looks tired, Westwick. Didn’t they teach you that at your fancy private schools?”

Biting back a chuckle, he extended his hand to her, palm open in invitation. He hadn’t realized he was doing it until it was there, hovering between them in the sudden silence. Lena stared at it, then up at him with her wide, brown eyes asking all the questions he didn’t have the answers to.

“What are you doing, Jaxon?” she breathed at last, sounding as tired as she looked.

“Showing you up to the rooms,” he hedged like a true cowerd because he knew that wasn’t what she meant.

“No,” she whispered. “What are you doing? Why isn’t SWAT here already? Why aren’t you trying to get me out of your life?”

Like the petals on a wilting flower, his fingers curled inward into his palm and the whole arm plummeted down to his side.

“I don’t know,” he confessed, releasing his own uncertainties into the universe for the first time. “I know I should. Logically, I should hate you and everything you’ve done to my family but—”

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