him.
Linda.
He’d dreamed of her so often throughout the past year and dreams were so much better than the cold reality without her. Why was she here now? Looking at him as if she still...cared.
Linda leaned over and touched him, cupping his face and smoothing her palm over his forehead as if she was checking his temperature. Her gaze had that familiar expression she’d often worn around him, despair and affection mixed in one confusing bundle. The times she’d been able to look at him with simple joy, with no doubt, were few and far between, and that was probably the biggest regret of his life. But right now there was no regret. He simply enjoyed her presence, wondering where they were. Why she’d finally come to him...
Once again memory clicked into place, hitting him with the force of a sledgehammer.
She might be here, but they weren’t together.
They weren’t ever going to be together again.
Hell, she wasn’t even going to be the lawyer prosecuting him for Guapo’s murder. Good and bad news, that. He wouldn’t be so distracted or tempted to tell her the truth. But he wouldn’t get the extra time with her, either.
For all he knew, this might be his last opportunity to talk to her.
It almost came rushing out of him then. His love for her. But he reminded himself of what he was doing.
Suddenly their gazes met and she saw he was awake. Swiftly she withdrew her hand.
“Where am I?” he asked.
“Jail infirmary. Do you remember what happened?”
“Yeah. I got into a fight with someone about a basketball game.”
“Right.”
He narrowed his eyes at her slow drawl. “I’m telling you the truth.”
“Just not the whole truth. Rumor is you were protecting someone else from getting coldcocked. Someone younger and with a big mouth.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Okay.”
“So why are you here? Were you hoping I’d made things easy on you and gotten myself killed?”
She paled and shook her head. Leaned closer, as if to mesmerize him with the color of her green eyes. “Don’t say things like that,” she said fiercely. “Now how are you feeling? Are you in pain?”
She sounded so much like herself, so much like the woman who’d jump to his defense if anyone, even himself, dared to put him down, that he couldn’t help smiling. She sounded as if she actually still cared about him. That knowledge filled him with a slight sense of unease and he said, “What if I am? You gonna get me some pills? Kiss my ‘owies’ and make them better?”
She blushed and he remembered how often she’d done just that, sprinkling butterfly kisses across his back and leg to distract him from his pain. He also remembered how thoroughly the distraction had worked.
“Stop trying to pick a fight and just tell me if you need anything,” she said softly.
“I need you,” he said before he could stop himself. “I always have.”
Eyes widening, she sucked in a breath. Then tears filled her eyes before she quickly blinked them away. “Tony,” she said on a breath, and it was all there in her voice—the same regret she’d felt on the night she’d broken up with him. So yes, he was right. She did still care about him.
But like always, that didn’t change a thing.
Even so, with the light behind her, her hair looked like a halo around her head.
An angel of mercy in a jail infirmary. And as much as he told himself he should take back the words of need he’d just voiced, that he should push her away yet again, he couldn’t do it.
Instinctively he reached for her. His angel.
He smoothed his knuckles against her cheek and, to his surprise, she let him. But it shouldn’t have surprised him. She was a natural caregiver. As passionate and vivacious and playful as she’d often been with him, she’d never been able to see him in pain without hurting herself. In addition to kissing his “owies,” she’d even taken a massage-therapy class so she could help him with his back and leg
Linda.
He’d dreamed of her so often throughout the past year and dreams were so much better than the cold reality without her. Why was she here now? Looking at him as if she still...cared.
Linda leaned over and touched him, cupping his face and smoothing her palm over his forehead as if she was checking his temperature. Her gaze had that familiar expression she’d often worn around him, despair and affection mixed in one confusing bundle. The times she’d been able to look at him with simple joy, with no doubt, were few and far between, and that was probably the biggest regret of his life. But right now there was no regret. He simply enjoyed her presence, wondering where they were. Why she’d finally come to him...
Once again memory clicked into place, hitting him with the force of a sledgehammer.
She might be here, but they weren’t together.
They weren’t ever going to be together again.
Hell, she wasn’t even going to be the lawyer prosecuting him for Guapo’s murder. Good and bad news, that. He wouldn’t be so distracted or tempted to tell her the truth. But he wouldn’t get the extra time with her, either.
For all he knew, this might be his last opportunity to talk to her.
It almost came rushing out of him then. His love for her. But he reminded himself of what he was doing.
Suddenly their gazes met and she saw he was awake. Swiftly she withdrew her hand.
“Where am I?” he asked.
“Jail infirmary. Do you remember what happened?”
“Yeah. I got into a fight with someone about a basketball game.”
“Right.”
He narrowed his eyes at her slow drawl. “I’m telling you the truth.”
“Just not the whole truth. Rumor is you were protecting someone else from getting coldcocked. Someone younger and with a big mouth.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Okay.”
“So why are you here? Were you hoping I’d made things easy on you and gotten myself killed?”
She paled and shook her head. Leaned closer, as if to mesmerize him with the color of her green eyes. “Don’t say things like that,” she said fiercely. “Now how are you feeling? Are you in pain?”
She sounded so much like herself, so much like the woman who’d jump to his defense if anyone, even himself, dared to put him down, that he couldn’t help smiling. She sounded as if she actually still cared about him. That knowledge filled him with a slight sense of unease and he said, “What if I am? You gonna get me some pills? Kiss my ‘owies’ and make them better?”
She blushed and he remembered how often she’d done just that, sprinkling butterfly kisses across his back and leg to distract him from his pain. He also remembered how thoroughly the distraction had worked.
“Stop trying to pick a fight and just tell me if you need anything,” she said softly.
“I need you,” he said before he could stop himself. “I always have.”
Eyes widening, she sucked in a breath. Then tears filled her eyes before she quickly blinked them away. “Tony,” she said on a breath, and it was all there in her voice—the same regret she’d felt on the night she’d broken up with him. So yes, he was right. She did still care about him.
But like always, that didn’t change a thing.
Even so, with the light behind her, her hair looked like a halo around her head.
An angel of mercy in a jail infirmary. And as much as he told himself he should take back the words of need he’d just voiced, that he should push her away yet again, he couldn’t do it.
Instinctively he reached for her. His angel.
He smoothed his knuckles against her cheek and, to his surprise, she let him. But it shouldn’t have surprised him. She was a natural caregiver. As passionate and vivacious and playful as she’d often been with him, she’d never been able to see him in pain without hurting herself. In addition to kissing his “owies,” she’d even taken a massage-therapy class so she could help him with his back and leg
Similar Books
