Page 67 of Trust

But I don’t stop.

The kiss slows, then deepens. He tilts my chin slightly, in need of every breath.

With his mouth and body against mine, everything else fades around me.

My fingers dig into his flesh, my pulse hammering loud in my ears. Then he eases back to look at me, his eyes a dark ocean blue.

He runs his thumb along my cheek, catching the corner of my mouth.

“Thanks,” he teases, “for not biting my tongue off.”

He breaks our connection, casually picks up the dropped knife and tosses it onto the towel, untouched by the chaos he unleashed.

“Well,” he says, glancing at me with a glint that’s somehow both dangerous and tender, “training’s over. You hungry?”

THE CUT BENEATH

Chris

Night has already settled as the van skids through the mud, winding its way toward the cabin.

I catch myself more eager to come home than usual. It’s routine. I got used to her presence. Cash is still here. He talks big and acts bigger, but he’s the one I’d trust with my life, and I like having him around. That has to be it.

Stepping through the door, I instantly spot a hole in the wall. A clean puncture, about head level. I move closer and tilt my head. The edges are too clean for anything accidental. This was placed with intent. Nothing says successful training like a knife in the wall.

The living room still bears the mess left behind by an interruption. It looks torn apart, as if someone walked out mid-argument and didn’t care. Nothing is where it belongs.

My jaw tightens slightly. It’s been a long day. Irritation flickers, but curiosity edges it out. The kitchen light is on. Inside, they’re eating sandwiches at the table. No surprise there. That’s about the only thing the guy can make. No way he’d ask her to cook. Cash looks up first. His face is blank, giving me the usual chin jerk. There’s a shift here I can’t quite place. Sara looks up a beat later, greeting me with a casual “Hey.” A bright flash crosses her face, gone almost as soon as it appears. She takes a tiny bite and chews it for way too long. My gaze flicks to her hands, the way she adjusts the sandwich unnecessarily, focusing on that small motion to keep from getting lost in her head.

The atmosphere here is thicker than it should be. Not really uncomfortable, just loaded. Cash is watching me expectantly, as if he’s waiting for me to connect the dots. And then it clicks. That look? The little twist in her posture?

That’s guilt, but why?

Because of that damn wall? The mess in the living room? Hard to believe. I frown. Maybe she thought I was out on a job today. That running errands wasn’t simply buying supplies.

She might have spent the whole day wondering if I’d come back with someone else’s blood on my shirt. The idea settles cold in my chest. I don’t want her to picture me like that.

“Training go all right?” I ask, breaking the silence as I cross to the fridge and grab a bottle of water.

With his mouth full, Cash gives me a thumbs-up. He swallows and leans back, satisfied. “Yeah. She crushed it.”

I turn to Sara. Her eyes meet mine. A tension runs under the surface. She sits up straighter.

“Is that right?” I ask, capping the water.

She nods. “It was good.”

I take a sip, studying the shift in her expression.

“Wanna show me?” I ask.

Instead of answering, she glances at Cash as if asking for permission. He pushes up from the table without missing a beat. “C’mon.” He heads to the towel in the living room where his knives are laid out. He grabs one, flips it once, then offers it to Sara.

“Try and take it from her,” he says to me.

I raise an eyebrow. “That’s all?”

Cash grins. “You’ll see.”