“Coincidence,” I said hoarsely. My heart was pounding. In a distant part of my brain, I registered that there were a dozen people just a few feet away, going about their lives without a clue that another human being in the room was dealing with a catastrophic event.
“Sure. Why not?” Graves shrugged, but her eyes gave her away. She knew. She couldn’t prove it, but she knew. “So here’s the thing: I could keep digging and spending time on this case while there are others on my desk. But what’s the point? Cross isn’t a danger to the public. My partner will tell you it’s never okay to take the law into your own hands. And for the most part, I’m on the same page. But Nathan Barker was going to kill you. Maybe not next week. Maybe not next year. But someday.”
She stood and brushed off her pants, picked up her water and towel, and ignored the fact that I was sobbing uncontrollably.
Gideon . . . I pressed the towel to my face, overwhelmed.
“I burned my notes,” she went on. “My partner agrees we’ve hit a dead end. No one gives a shit that Nathan Barker isn’t breathing our air anymore. Even his father told me he considered his son dead years ago.”
I looked up at her, blinked to clear the haze of tears from my eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You broke up with him on the Saturday after we interrupted your dinner, didn’t you?” She nodded when I did. “He was in the station then, giving a statement. He stepped out of the room, but I could see him through the window in the door. The only time I’ve seen pain like that is when I’m notifying next of kin. To be honest, that’s why I’m telling you this now—so you can go back to him.”
“Thank you.” I’d never put as much feeling into those two words as I did then.
Shaking her head, she started to walk back down the stairs, then stopped and turned, looking up at me. “I’m not the one you should be thanking.”
* * *
Somehow, I ended up at Gideon’s apartment.
I don’t remember leaving Parker’s studio or telling Clancy where to take me. I don’t remember checking in with the front desk or riding the elevator up. When I found myself in the private foyer facing Gideon’s door, I had to stop a moment, unsure of how I’d gotten from the bleachers to that point.
I rang the bell and waited. When no one answered, I sank to the floor and leaned back against the door.
Gideon found me there. The elevator doors opened and he stepped out, stopping abruptly when he saw me. He was dressed in workout clothes and his hair was still damp with sweat. He’d never looked more wonderful.
He was staring at me, unmoving, so I explained, “I don’t have a key anymore.”
I didn’t get up because I wasn’t sure my legs would support me.
He crouched. “Eva? What’s wrong?”
“I ran into Detective Graves tonight.” I swallowed past the knot in my throat. “They’re dropping the case.”
His chest expanded on a deep breath.
With that sound, I knew.
Dark desolation shadowed Gideon’s beautiful eyes. He knew that I knew. The truth hung heavy in the air between us, a near-tangible thing.
I’d kill for you, give up everything I own for you . . . but I won’t give you up.
Gideon fell to his knees on the cold, hard marble. His head bowed. Waiting.
I shifted, mirroring his kneeling pose. I lifted his chin. Touched his face with my hands and my lips. My gratitude for his gift whispered over his skin: Thank you . . . thank you . . . thank you.
He caught me to him, his arms banded tight around me. His face pressed into my throat. “Where do we go from here?”
I held him. “Wherever this takes us. Together.”
* * *