Her tears drenched his bare skin, and in the cold night, they felt like little tiny ice cubes. But he was glad she was letting her grief out; she needed to. He might not be the warmest or cuddliest of guys, but he wasn’t so cold that he couldn’t smooth her tangled blonde hair, and whisper soothingly in her ear.
It wasn’t until her tears finally stopped flowing that he realized that she hadn’t left like he’d told her to.
“What were you thinking?” he demanded, fear over what could have happened to her made his voice come out angrier than he intended.
“You needed help,” she whispered against his chest.
He wasn’t letting her hide like that. Grabbing hold of her biceps, he pulled her back so that he could see her face. “I told you to get out of here, to get someplace safe, why didn’t you do that?”
A little of the fire returned to those gorgeous blue eyes. “One, because you’re not the boss of me, so I don’t have to do what you say. Two, because this was my problem; you were only here because James wanted to kill me. And three, because you needed me. If I had run away like you wanted me to, then James would have killed you. I would have thought you’d be a little more grateful that I was here.”
Dante couldn’t help but smile at her outburst. It reassured him that she was holding it together after everything she’d been through—an abduction, being hurt, learning the truth about her husband’s death, killing a man. Most people would be falling apart right about now.
But not Sydney.
She was too tough.
She tried to pull away from him, but he kept his grip on her. “I never said I wasn’t grateful that you were here. I was. I am. You saved my life. But the thought of him hurting you …” he trailed off.
“What?” she asked, quirking up one side of her mouth. “The thought of him hurting me what?”
“You know what,” he huffed.
“No, I don’t,” she said, all innocent.
“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?” he asked wryly.
“Yep,” she agreed cheerfully, obviously enjoying seeing him squirm.
“The thought of that man hurting you makes me want to rip off my own arm rather than see that happen.”
“That’s sweet … I think.” Sydney laughed a sweet, melodic laugh that sounded like music. “Are you going to kiss me now?”
“Oh, yeah.”
This kiss was sweeter than the one they’d shared in the cave. It held more emotion as well. It wasn’t just lust, and it wasn’t just a heat-of-the-moment thing.
This kiss was one that held hope for the future.
6
April 20th
* * *
6:31 A.M.
* * *
It was too early to go to her house.
Was it even a good idea to go to there?
Dante had been having this same debate ever since he’d arrived home late last night.
After Sydney had killed James, they’d had to hike through the woods for close to an hour before they found a road and were able to flag someone down. He’d called Milla who had called in backup, crime scene, and an ambulance for Sydney.
He’d had to snap back into cop mode once everyone showed up, but while they waited, they’d settled at the side of the road and she had snuggled close at his side. She’d started to crash as the adrenalin that had kept her going started to leave her system, and by the time the ambulance had arrived, she was pretty much out of it. He’d said goodbye and they hadn’t spoken since.
Once he’d taken care of paperwork and gotten the obligatory medical checkup—the dozens of wounds James had inflicted that he hadn’t really noticed until a doctor started tending to them had all been cleaned and bandaged, a couple had been deep enough to require stitches—he received an update on Sydney, learned her family had met her at the hospital and taken her home. He had her address. He could always have gone over there. In fact, he’d driven halfway there before chickening out and turning his car around and going home.
Now, he had to decide.
Was he going to chicken out again or was he going to do something about it?
Last night he had dreamed of Rachel.
The beautiful woman he’d never even got a chance to make his wife had been very different from Sydney. Rachel had liked fancy dinners and romantic getaways and going to see shows. She was stunning but a little insecure about her looks. She didn’t talk a lot, but the two of them were comfortable around each other so it didn’t matter. Rachel hadn’t had Sydney’s confidence, and he couldn’t have imagined her holding up as well as Sydney had yesterday.
None of that meant he didn’t still love Rachel.
He did.
She was always going to be a part of him. He didn’t want to forget about her, and letting her go, felt like she wouldn’t exist anymore.
Dante knew he was going to have to find a way to balance the love that he would always have for Rachel with his growing feelings for Sydney.
And he did have feelings for Sydney.
Feelings that were growing the more he thought about it.
Which made his decision.
Throwing on the first clothes he could find—jeans and a gray shirt—he grabbed his keys and left. He didn’t think dinner at a fancy restaurant was what Sydney would pick as a first date, but he could guess what she would like.
Making one stop along the way, he drove to Sydney’s house. He was pretty sure that given how they’d left things yesterday that she would be happy to see him. But he’d kind of left her hanging last night, so Dante couldn’t deny he was a little nervous to see her again.
Maybe now that they weren’t fighting for their lives, the attraction between them might have fizzled out. He didn’t think that was the case, but how could he know for sure?
He wasn’t used to these feelings of doubt and uncertainty. He had basically shut down six years ago when he’d lost his family, and it was an odd sensation—all of those feelings coming back. It was kind of like pins and needles. He felt like he was tingling inside as he slowly opened up again.
As much as he hated to admit it, he was scared. Losing Rachel and his family had been the worst time in his life, and it was so much easier to put all his time and energy into his work and not have to worry about the possibility of getting hurt again. If it wasn’t for this feeling of Rachel telling him to go for it, then he definitely wouldn’t be here.
But Rachel was telling him it was time to move on, so he was.
Dante parked his car outside Sydney’s house and walked up to the front door, knocking loudly.
It took a good two minutes for the door to open and then there stood Sydney, in her pajamas. In his enthusiasm to get here, he’d completely forgotten it was still early.
“Syd, I’m sorry. It’s not even seven yet,” he apologized.
“It’s okay.” The smile that accompanied her words said she was every bit as glad to see him as he was to see her.
“How’s your arm?” He nodded at the bandaged wound.
“Eighteen stitches.”
“Were you able to get any sleep?” She might be holding up better than most people would, but that didn’t mean he thought she could survive this unscathed. What had happened would affect her—she’d been kidnapped and nearly killed. How could it not?