I wanted to support her. Wanted her closer.
She settled and excited me at once, just with her nearness. I drew in a full breath for the first time in twenty-four hours.
Her body was warm against mine. Her lips were tender and sweet. She was perfection.
I would never take this for granted again.
I deepened the kiss, careful to keep her head cradled. When her tongue met mine, another unknown feeling went through me. It was relief, desire, need, possession, and a mix of other things I couldn’t name.
But I felt.
She had given me that.
“Okay, kissy-faces. Dinner is on the table,” Beau teased.
I didn’t give a damn about food other than Lexie needed to eat. Her recovery was more important than my need for her.
Reluctantly, she pulled her mouth from mine, though she didn’t let go. “She doesn’t want us to have any fun,” she said breathlessly.
“Not true,” Beau argued before lowering her voice. “Just be sure to keep the door closed tonight.”
I willed patience and strength into my veins. “Not appropriate.”
“We’re going home after dinner,” Lexie said.
“No.”
She and Beau looked at me like I’d just royally screwed up.
“We’ve invaded your space long enough—”
“No.”
One of her hands around me went to her hip. “Are you telling me what to do?”
“Yes.”
“With single words?” Lexie’s voice rose.
“Yes.”
Beau threw her hands up. “You are so going to screw this up, and I’m going to have to fix it.” She spun back toward the kitchen.
“I want you to stay.” I pried her fingers from her hip and took them in mine.
Some of the fire and brimstone dimmed. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. After she searched my face for a moment, she whispered, “Why?”
“Because I want to turn your ‘might fall’ into a definitely.”
Chapter Fifteen
Lincoln
“Not sorry for the unannounced visit.”
Zegas barged through the front door I held open as if it were his home.
“By all means, come in.”
I ushered him to the living room. My study had been taken over by Eric and the dogs. Lexie and Beau were hanging out with them. I had been too until Zegas called.
He glanced around the space. “Any sensitive ears nearby?”
Laughter came from down the hall, and I was jealous I’d been deprived of being part of it.
“No.”
Zegas dropped his briefcase on the floor and got comfortable in a chair. “We’ve got a lot to cover.” He grabbed a file from the leather case. “Got anything to drink? Preferably whiskey.”
Entertaining guests in my home was new territory for me. I filled a crystal tumbler and offered it to him.
“You’re gonna need one too.”
Dread filled me as I sat on the sofa. I hoped he was wrong because I wasn’t drinking tonight. Not when I needed to keep my wits about me.
He took a long swallow and opened the file. “Let’s start with the easiest topic. Which by the way, isn’t easy.”
I gripped the armrest. “Wherever you prefer to begin.”
“Donnie Logan was recently released after serving nineteen years in prison for trafficking and possession of”—he glanced at the papers in front of him—“pretty much you name the drug, he had it. Before that he’d been in and out of jail since the 1970s.”
That was the environment Lexie and Eric had grown up in? My father was an asshole, but he hadn’t put us at risk like that. What kind of man did that to his children?
“Hang on to your seat because it gets better. Mama . . . what’s her name?” He scanned the paper, running his index finger down the page. “Ah yes, Marlene. She’s another upstanding citizen nominated for mother of the year. Trafficking, possession, theft, prostitution . . . should I go on?”
I’d heard enough. How had Lexie become the beautiful person she was under the influence of those people? She was . . . incredible.
“No.”
“The two of them seemed to coordinate their stints in jail. One in, one out. Marlene is still locked up for the boatload of cocaine they brought in. But if he’s out, she may not be far behind.”
Should Lexie hear this? It was her personal life we were discussing, though she knew the details more intimately than any file Zegas had. She’d been through enough. No need to make her relive it, especially after the traumatic few days she’d had.
“It was supposed to be a life sentence for both of them.”
I was grateful he kept speaking because the only words I wanted to say were not productive and likely criminal.
“And it’s no wonder Lexie’s parents aren’t happy with her. She’s the one who led the feds to the bust that took them out.”
What? She couldn’t have been much more than a teenager. But the Lexie I knew would do anything to protect her brother. And from the sound of it, putting her parents away for a long time was a big step toward that.
“Do they know?” I prayed the authorities hadn’t put her at risk by identifying her as a rat.
“Not sure. But she testified against both of them in court.”
Lexie.
What kind of hell had she been through?
“Life sentences?” I asked to reconfirm I’d heard correctly earlier. One ticking time bomb had already exploded, but another could be close.
“Supposed to be life. Donnie got out for good behavior.” Zegas made an unimpressed face. “I’ve put a private investigator on him. The guy has one foot in prison and one out. He makes a wrong move and back in he goes.”
“How does that affect Lexie?”
I wanted the man back in a jail cell far away from Lexie and Eric. But more than that, I wanted her to be free from worry.
“The judge for her case is a friend of mine and despises rotten parents, even of grown children. I’ve explained the situation and barring something extraordinary, she won’t serve any time. We can have her volunteer for anger management and community service as a goodwill gesture.”
I should’ve been relieved to hear that, but something about it felt like false hope.
“What about the witness? Garrison? Will he retract his statement?” That burned me up all over again. I understood he thought he saw what he saw, but he should’ve given Lexie the benefit of the doubt. He knew her. Was he bribed? Surely he knew that the man she hit was slime.
“If we could get him to recant, that would be a positive step.” He pointed at me. “And before you get any ideas, stay away from him.”
I scowled. Paying him a visit soon was most definitely a possibility. If I could talk to him, straighten the record, he’d have a different outlook on the situation.
“Let’s not add witness tampering to your legal woes.” He polished off his drink and went to the bar to get a refill.
How was it tampering to tell someone the truth? Again, another situation I could do nothing to rectify. It felt like my wrists were in invisible handcuffs.
“Speaking of your legal woes.” He dropped back into the chair.