This was Joe. Joey—the friend who used to sit next to her at baseball games and recite player stats by heart. He frowned at her when she booed the other team. He was the one who paled every time she mentioned getting her period, but always asked if she was okay when she cramped.
He was the guy she let pull her pigtails in middle school because he didn’t know how to be affectionate.
She’d always blamed his abusive parents for that. She’d tried to hug him once after they’d won a local kids’ ball game, but he’d stiffened. After that, she would punch him in the arm, he would tug her hair, and all was right in the world. How simple things were back then.
Liza slid her gaze to him and took in his rugged profile. Piercing eyes razed the streets as he drove. His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. His shoulders tensed. The suit’s stretch of fabric over broad shoulders and biceps reminded her of how he looked beneath it... and how he looked fresh out of the shower. She smiled quietly to herself, turned her gaze to the busy city street, and then realized they were a location known for prostitution. She hadn’t even felt a twinge in her gut, which meant sitting near Joe was canceling out her sin-sensing.
Her smile turned to a frown. She’d have to go out on her own if she wanted to make real progress. Catching Johns in the act was a great way to elicit information in exchange for a warning instead of an arrest.
“This is the third known vice spot we’ve been to,” Liza mentioned. “Can’t one of the others canvas the rest?”
Joe shook his head. “You know these girls. You went undercover with them. They’ll speak with you.”
“I went undercover over two years ago,” she replied. “Turnover is high. Most of them are new, and the rest don’t remember me.”
“We have to keep trying. You know this part of the job isn’t fun, but we have to be thorough.”
Liza squirmed in her seat. She might not be feeling sick from the sense of lust, but sitting in a confined space with Joe had been another kind of agony. Now that she’d accepted he was her mate, and after their almost kiss, her body was in a constant state of arousal. Every time he moved, he filled the air with his alluring masculine scent, and he had no frickin’ clue it drove her mad.
Until last night, he’d been in another relationship. She couldn’t go telling him everything now. He needed time, and she needed to repair their friendship.
“We’re not going to get far at this time of day,” Liza pointed out. “There will be more girls in the evening.”
Joe shot her a skeptical look. “If we had another lead to go on, then great. But canvassing known spots is all we have.”
“We could always try the Port Authority. Keep an eye out for spotters. The trafficking rings could be linked.”
“Geoff and Houlahan are there. I’d rather follow this direction. My gut says it’s not trafficking related.”
Liza slumped. When did Joe become so relentless? It was getting hard to reconcile the Joe she knew then with the one sitting next to her. The hardness in him had come from somewhere, and if his abusive childhood hadn’t made him hard, then what had? Working with the FBI? Had it been so bad?
Or was it really as her guilt whispered... her fault?
She wanted to talk with him, to grab a beer, and watch a game like they used to. But she wasn’t even sure if Joe liked watching baseball anymore. He’d thrown their ball back at her.
The car drove past the alley she’d vomited in.
“Stop,” Liza blurted.
Tires screeched as Joe maneuvered the vehicle into the alley. They jolted to a halt.
“I may have a lead,” she explained and stepped out of the car.
Joe followed her into the alley.
“I was here the other day.” She pointed to the bloodstains on the ground. “A spotter tried to lure a teenage runaway. Mirabelle.”
Maybe it was linked to trafficking, after all. But maybe the spotter wasn’t a spotter. Maybe he was the killer.
“Whose blood is that?”
“I had to use excessive force on him.”
“Did you arrest him?”
She shook her head. “But I took Mirabelle to a shelter. She might still be there. We can talk to her and see what she remembers.”
“And what do you remember?”
That was the question. She’d blacked out for half of it. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. The girl might say something about Liza’s loss of control.
“I need a coffee first,” Liza said. “Heaven’s not far. Let’s also grab a bite to eat and talk about it over lunch. Some of my family are probably there. They’d want to see you.”
He stutter-stepped and frowned at her. “Have lunch with your family?”
“Look, I know you don’t like my family much, but—” She wanted to say that he’d have to get used to them. Whatever disagreements he’d had with her brothers back in school had to be forgotten. As her mate, he’d have no choice but to get along.
She blinked. She was making a lot of assumptions. Joe didn’t have to do anything. Since he had come back to town, he’d been throwing mixed signals. Maybe it was as he’d said. He didn’t want to be her friend anymore. But if that was the case, then why did he request her for the task force? Why did he almost kiss her? It couldn’t all be her pheromones luring him in. It had to come from somewhere.
Hope was a tiny kernel of redemption growing inside her soul. A rush of warmth bloomed at the thought of Joe’s forgiveness.
“Is that what you think?” He stopped at his car. “That I don’t like them?”
She shrugged.
He made an incredulous sound as he opened the car door and slotted himself inside. When she joined him, he’d already shut down the conversation, choosing to focus on the driving.
She sighed softly. “If you drive to Heaven, there’s a private parking garage beneath. It will be easier.”
The only sign that he’d heard her was an almost imperceptible nod before he flattened his lips and turned silent and brooding. The temperature dropped to ice cold.
Thinking about it now, Liza was lost during those years Joe was gone. Somehow, she’d never connected the dots until he’d returned and she felt whole again. Finding out he was her mate was like the missing puzzle piece, the reason she could never quite get him out of her head. As it turned out, he must have felt somewhat the same, because when they parked in the garage beneath Lazarus House, he blurted, “Why did you stop taking my calls?”
“I don’t know,” she lied.
The truth was, after Wyatt’s ex had faked her death, the family had drifted apart. Liza was ashamed of both herself and her family. She threw herself into work. Then when the siblings started pairing up with their mates, things started to pick up, and her family ties grew stronger. The thing was, in that time, Liza had embedded herself in the law, in doing things the right way. The expectation to be a vigilante scared her. She didn’t want Joe to be part of that world. He was untainted and innocent. Loyal, righteous, good.
And she wasn’t. He was right when he said she’d become jaded. Mean. She couldn’t argue with that.
So instead of answering his question, she asked, “Do you like me, Joe?”
“Why are you wearing the gloves?” he deflected.
“They’re good for robbing banks,” she joked.
“In all my life, Liza, I’ve never known you to wear gloves.”
“We hardly know each other anymore, Joe.”
“Sometimes I wonder if I’ve ever known you.”
As usual, they slipped into old patterns, sparring verbally like old beat up boxers, neither willing to concede. She thought he would continue, but he surprised her. One minute, he was inside the car, the next he wasn’t. Liza blinked, trying to mentally catch up, but he already paced outside like a caged animal.
She got out and called over the roof, “Joe. We need to talk.”
Frenzied eyes met hers, then skated away.
“Joe,” she implored. “What happened? Why did yo
u get out of the car? We were talking.”
“Because I can’t breathe,” he growled, still pacing. “I can’t think.”
She crossed to his side. “What? Why?”
“This was a mistake. You and me working together. Bad idea.”
Hurt sliced her chest. She wanted to rub the sore spot but reached for him. She should have known not to startle the wild animal. He reacted, clamping her wrist and twisting until her arm locked behind her back. He pressed his body against her, forcing her against the car. Like a criminal. A cheat. A liar.
And she let him, just like she’d let him pull her pigtails.
This was Joe.
Liza remembered when he’d been pinned like this by his father against their old Dodge pickup. It was the night before Liza had left for her seven years of training. At fifteen, she’d snuck out of home and ended up throwing pebbles at his second-level window pane. She’d wanted to give him the baseball for safekeeping. He was sixteen and growing out of his gangly stage, so when he’d climbed down the trellis from his room, he’d snapped the wooden planks and tumbled to the ground. The ivy came with him.
Looking back now, Liza realized Joe must have heard the screen door open because he’d pushed Liza into the back of the Dodge, and hid her under an old piece of canvas before his father came out to the yard, furious. Joe urged her to stay hidden. She couldn’t move as Joe’s arm was locked behind his back, and he was forced against the truck. She could still see the tears in his eyes as his arm was almost pulled from its socket, and fists boxed against his ears. Stupidly, Liza’s dumb thoughts were of Joe’s neat hair being messed up as his head snapped sideways like a rag doll.
And through it all, Joe’s eyes had locked onto Liza’s as though she was his lifeline. She saw not the cry for help, but the plea for her to stay hidden. So she had, knowing that Mary had lectured Liza to never show her strength in public.
Joe’s father stayed outside for a cigarette after he’d sent Joe limping back into the house.
That first puff of smoke, the exhale that sounded like relief, it had triggered something within Liza. That night she had her first taste of what her soon-to-be Shaolin Warrior Masters called the Violent Calm. Mary’s training rushed to the surface. Liza’s instincts had stilled like she was underwater. She wasn’t angry. She was at peace because she knew exactly what would happen next.
Retribution.
She had methodically, and systematically jabbed Joe’s father in all the right pressure points to make him collapse in a paralyzed heap. Then she’d kneeled on his throat, put pressure on his carotid, and whispered as though the devil himself were inside her, “If you ever touch him again, I will hunt you down. If you ever mention this to Joey, I will hunt you down. And if you are ever anything less than the perfect father... I. Will. Hunt. You. Down. Capeesh?”
Wetness pooled on the broken ivy underfoot. He’d urinated in fear.
It took many years of exhaustive training and meditating to access that calm but violent space again, and Joe had never found out. His father never touched him again. But he failed at being perfect. He’d kicked Joe out of home when he finished high school. Liza had always wondered if she’d caused that, but being half a world away, she’d been powerless to stop it. Reuniting with Joe at the academy had been one of the best days in Liza’s life.
“Liza.” Joe’s voice snapped her back to the present. He shoved her into the car and she winced. “Why are you wearing gloves? What aren’t you telling me?”
Of all the things to focus on. “They’re just gloves.”
Movement at her wrist, at the glove. She panicked, whirled, and wrested out of his grip. Faster than she thought him capable, he recaptured both her wrists and pinned them to her side. He used his body to hold her against the car.
The man before her was furious. Neck tendons popped. Veins protruded. Pupils dilated. He was on the verge of a psychotic break, and exactly the kind of person she couldn’t reveal her secret identity too. He was the spitting image of his father, but nothing like him. She hoped. This was Joe, the man she’d wanted to protect her whole life, but who didn’t need it anymore.
Liza nudged her hips into him. There was something in her pocket he needed to see. She nudged again.
His mouth twitched at the corner. His eyes darted down. “What is that?”
She smirked. “It’s certainly not my gun.”
Amusement warred with anger until he wrested his expression back to stern.
“Why are you lying to me, Liza?” His voice deepened with threat. “Answer my question.”
“Frisk me, and find out.” She dared another push forward with her hips, a poke into his lap with the bulky item in her front pocket. A tease.
It was meant to be a joke, but once the words were out, she couldn’t stop thinking about Joe’s capable hands swiping up her legs, her thighs, her stomach, her—
Heat rushed between her legs. Her inner thighs clenched, and she stifled a moan as her body chose for her. Desire was a fizzy toxin, already winding itself through her system, replacing her blood with champagne. She’d never felt like this before. Not without the inevitable hangover that came with the drunken lust. The vomiting, the sickness. This was pure lust of her own making, and it was intoxicating.
She wanted more.
Joe turned Liza to face the car and slammed her palms against the windows.
“Keep your hands there,” he ordered and kicked her feet apart.
But his voice was rougher than before, less sure. Satisfaction and anticipation climbed within Liza. Heat burned hotter as his hands lingered over hers. Ragged breath shifted hair at her ear. Tickled.
“Toe to top,” she whispered hoarsely, upping the stakes, testing. “Just in case you’ve forgotten how to do it.”
A hitched breath behind her. A pause. Nothing. No response. She pushed her rear back until it pressed against his hard front, but then the heat of his body disappeared.
Liza held her breath. Had she gone too far? Did he want to play this game, or was it all in her head?
The item he wanted was in her front pocket. He knew that. She knew that. There was no need to start at her toes. If he didn’t want this as much as she did, he would go straight to her pocket, and she would have her answer.
She waited.
Fabric rustled as he moved behind her. Light pressure at her ankle moved up her leg, rasping tightly over her jeans.
“Slower,” she burst out.
He paused.
Then resumed slowly. Two hands. He took her leg, inch by trembling inch. The higher he went, the more air released from her lungs until he got to her inner thigh and stopped.
They both knew this wasn’t a game anymore. This wasn’t appropriate. This was nothing friends did, and certainly nothing co-workers did.
He massaged her thigh, pushing his thumbs into the pillow of her bottom. His fingers hit her apex and her husky moan shot out. She bit her lip to stop the sound, but it was the trigger on her heart, her breath, her desire.
His touch slipped around her front, lingered at her stomach, and then fluttered down to where he found her bulging pocket.
No. Too soon.
She didn’t want this to end, but he plucked the item out. She winced and dipped her forehead to the coolness of the car window. She shut her eyes and waited with bated breath.
His silence was deafening.
“Don’t give up on us, Joey,” she whispered, knowing he stared at their baseball, at the childish signatures scrawled over it, and at the two little words she’d added last night.
I’m sorry.
When no answer came, her throat closed up. She blinked rapidly.
“We’re not the same people anymore, Liza.” His sad voice rasped over her heart.
“Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe we’re better like this. Just give us a chance.”
Was it selfish of her to want him? Was it only because of the bond making her think and act like this? Or the fact that she knew she�
�d be able to have sex with him and actually enjoy herself. Would she have felt the same for him without her hormones telling her to need him so badly she wanted to burst, or her pheromones seducing him to want her?
“Maybe we’re worse,” he muttered.
Do you like me, Joe? she’d asked. He hadn’t answered. But neither had she. And if she was going to take a step away from that mean, jaded person, she had to let him know how much he meant to her. She had to grow up.
Goddamn feelings are hard.
“I like you, Joe,” she said, still facing the car. Her fingers flexed against the solid surface, wanting to ball into fists. “Do you understand?”
Ker-thunk. The baseball hit the pavement.
Defeat sat heavily on her shoulders.
But then a tickle at her neck sent electricity zipping down her spine. She straightened, shocked. Joe shifted her ponytail. Soft, velvety lips landed on the flesh beneath her ear. It was so gentle, so hesitant, so vulnerable. Her knees weakened. Her heart burst.
“I like you too,” he whispered.
And then he was gone.
9
Joe Luciano’s world had been turned upside down and he didn’t know how to respond.
I like you, Joe.
I like you, too.
What were they, twelve?
He strode down the sidewalk toward the restaurant Heaven and didn’t look back. Maybe he was a coward. Maybe he should have stayed and talked it out with Liza, but part of him didn’t believe her words. Or his. The butterflies in his stomach roared. He could barely hear logic banging in his head.
Why now? Why after all these years?
Joe’s doubts screamed at him.
She’s lying. She’s using you. She doesn’t want you. Never has. You’ll never be good enough for her.
Strange how that voice always sounded like her brothers. The same ones he was going to have lunch with. The same ones he would send to prison.
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