The street was dead quiet, the kind of quiet that made your skin itch. Lia pulled up to the curb and killed the headlights. Her fingers were clenched too tight on the steering wheel, and her heart wouldn’t slow down no matter how many times she told it to chill the hell out.
The burner phone sat in the passenger seat. Bringing it to him was the excuse. But that wasn’t the only reason she was there.
I was bringing him me. Whether he wanted that or not.
She got out, crossed to the front door in a few fast steps, and knocked before her brain could second-guess her.
A light flicked on inside. She saw his shadow move behind the curtain.
Then the door opened.
Dante stood in the doorway, bare chest rising and falling, sleep-mussed hair half flattened to one side. A clean, white bandage cove
