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My eyebrows drew together. “How can I trust you when I’ll always know that you only pursued me because of a job? We’d never have met if you hadn’t set out to target me.”
He looked pained. “Things changed, baby.”
“Maybe so,” I allowed. “But I’ll always question the authenticity of every interaction we’ve had and wonder whether it was real or manufactured for the sake of your operation.”
He tried to cup my face, but I scuttled back. His face fell, and I felt a twinge of guilt over my reaction.
“I’ve never lied about the way I feel about you.” His hand inched toward me of its own volition, but then he noticed and dropped it to his side. “Perhaps our first meeting wasn’t random, and we moved more quickly than we otherwise might, but our love is real.”
Was, I wanted to say. It was real. Past tense.
But even I couldn’t be that petty when he was already upset. I could, however, make it clear exactly what he was up against if he wanted to continue to insist that he loved me.
“Do you know how it feels that your team chose to target me for this op because I was easy pickings? A single, biracial female detective with an innocent belief in fairy-tale love?” Even if I was ever able to accept his claims of love at face value, that would always sting. “Don’t worry. I’m not so naive anymore.”
He winced. “I love your romantic heart, Jo. And I’m sorry. So sorry. I wish I could take everything back, but I can’t. All I can do is keep telling you that I love you. Maybe I lied about my name and occupation, but you know who I am at my core.”
I shook my head. “The man I thought I knew was kind. He’d never hurt anyone like this.” My voice wavered. “Especially not me.”
He exhaled sharply as the barb hit. “You’re right. He wouldn’t. There’s no excuse for what I did. But perhaps… perhaps you’d be willing to listen to the reason why I’ve crossed so many lines for this investigation?”
I didn’t really want to, but when he seemed so torn up about it, I couldn’t say no.
“Fine. But not here.”
He nodded and opened the door to Henry’s office. I’d noticed Henry wasn’t in the bar, and the office was empty, so he must not be working tonight. West closed the door. I waited for him to drag Henry’s chair around the desk and sit before I sat too. Somehow, being seated while he was standing would feel too vulnerable.
He was quiet for a moment while he searched for words. “Do you remember when I said the investigation started because an off-duty cop who’d been working on the failed warehouse bust was shot?”
“Yes.” I’d committed everything he’d told me to memory. I was too wary of the information falling into the wrong hands to write it down.
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “That cop was my father.”
Sympathy lanced through me. “I’m so sorry.”
If he’d lost his dad because of Ortez, it certainly explained why he would be so committed to this operation.
His lips pressed together, as if he were trying to get control of his emotions. “I was with him when it happened. He was shot by a sniper. I tried to save him, but it was a perfect shot to the center of his forehead. There was nothing I could do.”
I scooted my chair closer and took his hand, my throat tight, my chest aching. “That must have been awful. I’m sorry you went through that.”
He stared down at our joined hands, not speaking. Ididn’t blame him. I couldn’t imagine how I’d react if one of my parents was shot dead in front of me. I’d be distraught. The image of their cold, lifeless eyes would never leave my mind. It was a miracle that West could sleep at night.
His hand rested limply in mine. “Mamma was a mess. She was so grief-stricken, I doubt she would have gotten out of bed if not for me those first couple of weeks.”
My tongue was thick in my mouth. Poor West. Not only devastated himself, but he’d had to be present enough to support his mother too.
None of this justified the way he’d used me, but as he’d said, it did go a long way toward explaining his actions.
“How is your mamma now?” I asked.
He’d told me both of his parents were dead. That was obviously only half true. He still had a mom out there somewhere, and who knew when the last time they’d been in touch was?
“My handler tells me she’s all right,” West said reluctantly. “I’ve only spoken to her a couple of times since I went undercover.”
My heart hurt for her. She lost her husband, and in a sense, she’d lost her son too, even though his undercover assignment was only temporary. Not to mention that she must fear he might meet the same end as his father, considering he was investigating his father’s killer.
Assuming she even knew. Perhaps he hadn’t told her what his operation was.
