“I fell asleep…”
“I suspected as much.”
“But that doesn’t explain why you’re here — at Cormorant House, I mean.” My brows furrow in sudden agitation. “I’ve been looking for you!”
His mouth parts in surprise. “You were looking for me?”
“Yes! I went to your apartment. I knocked for ages.”
“When?”
“Yesterday! I thought…”
“Thought what?” he murmurs when I trail off.
I thought you didn’t want to see me.
I thought I wouldn’t get to say goodbye.
I swallow hard. “It doesn’t matter! The point is, I was looking for you. And you’re telling me you were right here this whole time?!”
“Not the whole time. I only got here about an hour ago.”
“You came here in the middle of the night?”
“Yeah.”
He’s staring at me with such intent focus, it steals my breath. His face is distractingly close. I can’t think straight with his mouth mere inches from mine. I try to step back, but there’s nowhere to go in the tiny space.
Why is he here?
Why now?
“So…” I whisper breathily. “You just thought we’d have a quick chat at two in the morning?
He laughs, but can’t quite disguise the strain in his voice. “Afraid not. I’m just here to keep an eye out in case my brother shows up.”
“Why would Jaxon come here?”
“He’s on the run. The DEA is hunting him down. That’s the reason I wasn’t home last night… there was a raid at the docks. Jaxon and his crew have been trafficking drugs through Gloucester Harbor. I helped the agents get enough evidence to shut it down. They arrested everyone — Jaxon’s whole crew. But he somehow slipped away during the chaos.”
My eyes have gone wide. I can feel them, saucer-like on my face, staring at him. “You helped the DEA conduct a drug raid?”
He nods.
“That’s so dangerous!” I smack him on the arm.”What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking it’s about damn time someone put a stop to my brother.”
“What if you’d been hurt? What if—”
“I’m fine!”
“But—” I splutter into silence as he reaches out and takes my hand. His callused palm scrapes lightly against mine as its enveloped in his strong grip. I bite back an involuntary gasp as the feel of his touch radiates through me, moving from my fingers up my forearm, straight into my chest, where my heart is pounding a mad tattoo.
“Jo.” His hand tightens — strong and sure, steadying me instantly. “I’m okay. Really.”
“Okay,” I breathe, barely trusting my own voice. “Okay.”