Page 28 of Vision of Justice

Something in his chest shifted, expanded. “Me too. We’re going to get through this, and when we do, I’m going to be by your side.”

He was tumbling heart-first for this woman. He’d never forget the moment he saw her standing in the ballroom foyer. It was branded into his mind, and it had left him speechless and weak in the knees. The gown of silver, glorious hair rampant around her shoulders. He’d keep her safe until they could determine who was targeting them. There was no other option he’d consider.

“I can’t make you promises. You deserve someone who can.” She’d inched closer, murmuring the words into his chest. Her warm breath tickled against his bare skin, and he ignored the instant impact her closeness had on his body.

“I don’t need them.” He rubbed his hand up and down her back. “Especially from you. I’d never push for more than you can give.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. What if you’re always left wanting something I can’t give, and life passes by? What if you miss meeting a woman who you can have it all with? You’d end up resenting me.” The heaviness in her sigh broke something in him.

Didn’t she get it? He just wanted her. “There’s no set timeline. No rules for how things need to be between us. We’ll make it up as we go. You’re who I want to be with.” He was risking it all, and somehow, it seemed right. He was intimately aware of how short life could be, how it could change in instant. While he regretted being disloyal to the force, he’d regret letting Sasha slip through his fingers more. He wanted to be selfish when it came to her. Have her in every way possible. What he told her wasn’t a lie, though. He might try his best to convince her, but he’d never push for more than she could give. He didn’t give a shit about what was conventional or expected. There were only two people in this relationship: him and Sasha. No one else’s opinion mattered.

“I’m not going to hold you to that. Or hate you if you decide you want something different.” Only time would convince her that he was being genuine. That she was all he wanted, nothing else. Time.

“You might not believe me right now, but that’s okay. I won’t let you down,” he promised.

Sasha’s fingers gripped him tight, and she released a drawn-out breath.

Contentment settled inside him. Something he wasn’t used to feeling. He was always on edge, waiting for the next call, watching his back. With Sasha, though, he could just be, and that was a fucking miracle. He held her close, loving the way her sex-warmed skin felt beneath his hands. When he closed his eyes, Sasha wrapped around him, and he fell asleep within seconds.

The clatter of his phone vibrating across the nightstand woke him. Gus turned and smiled when he was met with resistance holding him in place. With gentle hands, he removed Sasha’s arms from his waist and flipped on his side. The digital clock display read five o’clock, a half hour before his alarm was due to go off. He glanced at the screen and sat upright, planting both feet on the cool wood floor.

“Lambert.” He eased out of bed and moved silently across the room.

“Sorry to disturb you so early. It’s Stan Wilson from forensics. You had put a rush on a sample yesterday. We do have a match between the blood found at the Frost case and yesterday’s homicide.”

“Thank you for the call.” He hung up, lowered the phone to his side, then stalked to his dresser in the dark.

“Who was that?” Sasha’s voice was heavy with sleep and the rustle of sheets made him pause as he slid out the drawer.

“Just work,” he said, removing a pair of socks and briefs. “Sleep, sweetheart.”

“Is everything okay?” She sat upright and turned on the bedside lamp, illuminating the room. Couldn’t say he wasn’t grateful for the light, but she was a late riser. He liked thinking of her all snuggled into his bed.

“We got some results on a sample.” He opened his closet door and pulled out the nearest dress shirt and slacks. “I’m going to get dressed, make coffee, then get an early start.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” She stood up and started to cross the room toward him.

“It’s early. Get some sleep, and we can talk when I get back.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead.

“Don’t blow me off. If you can’t talk about it because it’s classified or whatever I get it, but I’m not fragile. You don’t have to conceal things you think will upset me.” She’d thrown on one of his t-shirts on in the night, and it hit just above her knees. Sasha took a step back and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Want a coffee?” He’d meant to tell her about the blood on the tablecloth at the gala before now, but she was right. The last thing he wanted to do was freak her out, but she wasn’t a delicate person who would break under pressure. Of course, she isn’t. She’d been through hell and still kept moving forward.

“Yeah. And pants?” She gestured to her bare legs, and he couldn’t suppress the chuckle that bubbled from his lips.

He tossed her a pair of sweats. “I’ll be back around noon, and we can go to your house and get an overnight bag. I’m sure you’re sick of wearing my stuff.”

“And I’m sure you’re sick of the extra wash.” There was a smile in her tone, and he relaxed a little. He didn’t want her to be mad at him for shielding her from certain things.

“Nope.” He ruffled her hair. “Now they smell like you. Not washing them ever.”

“Creep.” She laughed and opened the bedroom door, then started to walk toward the kitchen.

He shook his head, a grin cemented on his face as he fastened the buttons on his shirt. His assumption was correct. The substance on the tablecloth was from their latest homicide victim. That bit of news should be weighing more heavily on him, but being with Sasha took some of that weight away. As long as she was in his home, she’d be safe.

When he’d finished dressing, he followed her into the kitchen. She already had a pot of coffee going.

“Can I make you anything? Scrambled eggs? An omelet?” He paused with his hand on the refrigerator handle.

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