“She knows the score,” I said.
He shook his head. “You’re an idiot.”
“Why do people keep telling me that?”
“Because even I—an emotionally stunted Morgan man—can see that you’ve got feelings for her. You always have. And now that you’re close to finding something real with her, you’re gonna hightail it back to the city and pretend you’re not scared shitless that she’s in danger. If Lina were in trouble, there’s nothing that would stop me from standing between her and that trouble.”
“If Lina were in trouble, she’d kick it in the balls and sharpen her nails in its eye sockets.”
“Sloane’s not like Lina. She gets riled and she goes off half-cocked,” he reminded me unnecessarily.
“That’s not my problem.” Hot acid was eating its way up my esophagus.
“It was once. I went through Ogden’s old case files after dinner the other night. Sloane was the unnamed minor Ansel Rollins attacked, wasn’t she? That’s how she broke her wrist.”
“She didn’t fucking break it. He did,” I said, getting to my feet. “And if you want details, you’ll have to ask someone else, because I wasn’t fucking there. I was in jail.”
“Got sprung the very next morning though, didn’t you?” he pressed. “Interesting coincidence, don’t you think? That she’s championing the cause of the wrongfully imprisoned.”
“Keep her safe,” I said coolly and headed for the door.
“I meant what I said,” Nash called after me. “Don’t fuck around with her.”
“I won’t,” I muttered under my breath as I stormed out of the police station, already dialing my phone.
“Where’s my doughnut?” Sloane pouted.
She was wearing my T-shirt, pouring coffee in my kitchen, and looking adorably disheveled. Something clenched awkwardly in my chest. A wave of possession knocked me off balance. I wanted this. Her. And I couldn’t have it. Not when being close to me made her a target.
“I didn’t bring you one,” I said flatly.
“Mean. What did Nash say? Did anyone report a rat heist?”
I took the mug out of her hand. “You should go.”
“Why? What’s wrong? Your face is all weird. Oh God. Did something happen to Meow Meow?”
There was only one button of Sloane’s I knew how to push to make her walk away. “There’s nothing wrong with your cat. I just don’t want you here.”
“That’s not what you said last night,” she said smugly.
“You can keep the shirt,” I said, scanning her from head to toe, careful to keep my expression impassive.
“Oh no, Lucifer. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why mere hours ago, you were begging me to make you come, and now you’re Mr. Freeze.”
“I remembered all the reasons I don’t like you.”
She snorted. “Nice try. You never forgot them in the first place.”
“I spoke to Nash. He dug into my father’s arrest record and connected some dots.”
She remained silent.
“You jumped willingly into a dangerous situation.”
“So did you every time your parents fought,” she pointed out.
“That’s different. It was my responsibility. You never should have been there. I never should have told you what was happening. It’s bad enough that he ruined your plans. He could have ended your life. And you went over there willingly.”
Sloane crossed her arms over her chest. “Because you loved her. Because you wanted to keep her safe. And because I couldn’t stand another minute of you being locked up for a crime he committed.” She spoke softly, firmly.
“He broke your wrist in three places. You had to have surgery. All your plans, your dreams, everything gone because you couldn’t listen to me and do the right thing.”
Snap.
My freedom wasn’t worth that. My life wasn’t worth that.
Snap.
“Lucian,” she said carefully.
“What?” I realized I was yelling. I didn’t raise my voice like him. I didn’t have to. “What?” I repeated quietly.
“I’m sorry for not listening to you when you asked me not to call the police. I had no idea that would happen. But I’m not sorry for what I did to get you out.”
I turned my back on her so I wouldn’t be tempted to shake some sense into her, decades-old panic and anger rearing their ugly heads.