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He stepped toward her, closing the distance she’d created. “Not a chance. Tell me what’s—” He stilled, eyeing her neck.
Lexie’s hand flew to her scarf, noting it had slipped slightly. She attempted to pull it up again, but Nico’s hand stopped her. Resigned to the fact he’d already seen the bruises, she didn’t object as he gently untied the knot, revealing the full extent of Kyle’s damage.
Nico went eerily still, his body radiating hostility as his face darkened. “Who did this?”
“Look, I understand you want to help, but—”
“Who did this?”
“None of your business,” Lexie snapped, taking her scarf back. “I’m not your problem, Nico, so just back off. Don’t you have a case you should be focusing on?”
He dropped his head and seethed for a few seconds. Then he cupped her face in his hands and got so close she could smell the familiar scent of his cologne. “Who hurt you? Tell me right now.”
Considering how enraged he looked, his touch was surprisingly soft, and rather than flinch, Lexie had to make a conscious effort not to lean into it. Her eyes moistened as she felt her control beginning to slip. The way he cared even though he barely knew her, it was breaking down her armor, and she wasn’t sure how much more she could take.
“Please don’t do this,” she whispered. “You don’t understand what’s going on.”
“Then help me understand,” he said, grasping her arms. “Or just give me a name.”
Tears sprang free as she tried to step away. She couldn’t do this. She cared about Nico, but she wasn’t willing to risk his life by rubbing salt in an already festering wound and angering Kyle even more. The man was psychotic. Impulsive. And when he wanted to be—scarily creative. She knew he wouldn’t stop, even if she did give the bastard what he wanted. The way Lexie saw it, cutting ties with Nico now was the best way to neutralize the threat and make the whole thing a moot point. Kyle was her problem, and he would continue to be long after Nico was gone.
“Leave me alone,” she warned, tugging herself free.
“No.”
He pulled her back to him, the resolute look in his eye enough to transform some of Lexie’s hurt into fury. She slapped him—hard—breaking free for the second time, only to be pulled back once more and crushed against his chest.
He stood behind her, lips at her ear. “Please. I can help you.”
“I don’t need your help,” she protested, struggling as he held her.
“Liar.”
“What’s the matter with you? Why won’t you let this go?”
“Let you go, you mean?”
“Yes. Let me go!”
“I can’t!” he shouted, loud enough to startle a bird from a nearby tree and probably make the people inside wonder what was going on.
Lexie stilled. Waited.
“I can’t,” he whispered. “Because when I go to sleep at night, you are the only thing I think about. You’re on my mind as soon as I open my eyes. All day. And I don’t seem to be able to do a damn thing about it.”
They were both breathing heavily, but for her, it was now for a whole different reason.
“I tried not to care,” he continued, his thumbs stroking her arms, his grip loosening. “Tried to convince myself that shutting down whatever it is that’s between us was for the best, that your business was your business, but the way you kissed me last night . . . That felt real. So, no, I will not let you go without an explanation. I need an explanation, Lexie. Please.”
That was it. She had nothing left.
Lexie stopped fighting, and the tears came, flowing down her face in spades, years of built-up pressure finally being released. She couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t slow the torrent once it started and felt all the more self-conscious by the fact.
“Come here,” Nico said, turning her around.
Burrowing her face in his shirt, Lexie allowed herself to let go, let him hold her in her pain. It was too late to hide it now.
“Shh. It’s okay. I’ve got you,” he whispered, stroking her hair, then pulling them toward the wooden bench situated on a patch of grass a few yards away.
