“No, that’s not it.” But damn, did I wish it was. “He’s desperate fo some legitimate news. I have to report to him every week and he always grills me about my progress first thing. It’s personal, and he’s very, very serious about this tracking. It comes before everything else.”

“Is that where you were this morning?” he asked, and I nodded. “Then the whiskey shots in your office…?”

“A time-honored ritual and proven coping mechanism.”

“And I’m guessing you can’t tell me who he’s looking for?”

“Nope. Though I’m free to tell the whole world that I’m working for him in some unnamed capacity. In fact, he wants me to.” Because he wasn’t allowed to openly discuss our connection.

“So, I guess this mark is the source of the rumors that you’re bedding the boss….” Cam looked so relieved to have found a logical explanation that I almost hated to disappoint him.

“Nope.” I shook my head firmly and felt the couch material snag in my hair. “I can’t figure out where those are coming from, because no one’s seen the mark.”

“No one? You haven’t…?” He let the question fade into implication, flavored by the blatant hope in his eyes.

I propped myself up on my good arm and faced him eye to eye. “Didn’t we already agree not to ask that question? I don’t want to know who you’ve been with since me, and you don’t want the details of my personal life, either. But none of that matters anymore, right?” I said, and he nodded hesitantly. “All I’m saying is that no one’s seen the mark.”

I hadn’t been nude in a lit room for almost eighteen months. And I hadn’t had sex at all in nearly a year. Since word—inaccurate, of course—got out that I was working for Cavazos, everyone I might have considered going home with seemed more interested in proving or disproving the rumors. And no one would press past what they thought to be evidence of Ruben’s claim on me.

No one I’d want, anyway. Anyone willing to cross that mark was just in it to prove he wasn’t afraid of Cavazos.

Anyone but Cam.

“So, what you’re saying is that no one’s seen this—” his hand slid down my stomach and over the gauze material covering my thigh “—in a very long time.”

My breath hitched. No one had touched me like that in years. That was the touch of a man interested in more than a quick fix for us both. More than a story about sleeping with a woman who may or may not belong to one of the most powerful men in the country.

“Just you…” I breathed. And Ruben. But he didn’t count. In fact, he’d never counted less.

“I like that,” Cam whispered, sliding down next to me on the couch. “Say it again.”

“Just you…” I murmured, reaching up with my good arm to pull him closer. His mouth brushed mine, and I lifted my head for greater contact, pulling his lip into my mouth. Tasting him.

A thousand times I’d imagined this, blending memory and imagination to keep from thinking about what was actually happening—who was actually touching me. And now it was real. Cam was real, and this moment was real; surely the pain in my arm proved that. A gunshot wound was better than a self-inflicted pinch any day of the week, and the pain was minor compared to how good everything else felt. His hands. His lips. The rough stubble on his chin, catching in my hair when his kisses traveled over my jaw toward my ear.

Being with him was better than I remembered. Better than I’d imagined. The moment would have been perfect, except that…

“Wait. We can’t do this.” I put a hand on Cam’s bare chest and he stared down at me in amusement.

“Speak for yourself. I’m ready.”

And boy was he. But… “That’s not what I mean. We don’t have time for this right now.” We were supposed to be saving lives. Finding murderers. Making the world a better place, one mob boss at a time…

“According to you and Noelle, one of us will be dead soon. So if you think about it like that, we don’t have time to wait.”

“Don’t joke about death.”

“I’m joking about sex.”

“Cam, this isn’t funny!”

He sighed and propped himself up on one elbow, running the fingers of his other hand lightly over my stomach. “Olivia, neither of us is going to die anytime soon. I’m not going to let that happen, so worrying about it is pointless. As for the rest of this…” His hand slid lower, and I caught my breath. “I make time for the important things, and you’re the most important thing in the world to me.” He leaned closer and whispered against my skin as he dropped kisses down my throat. “Besides…” Kiss. “Anne texted ten minutes ago.” Kiss. “They’re all fine.” Kiss. And when he reached my collarbone, I threw my head back. “That gives us fifty minutes to play with.” Kiss. “And I can do a lot in fifty minutes….”

His hand slid lower, and I arched into his touch. My body was alive every place my skin met his, and I craved more. And for the first time in six years, I could have more. I could have all of him. It might not be smart. It might even be the last time we’d be alone together, if whatever Elle had seen was related to this new working relationship. But no matter what had come before or what we would be made to do next, these stolen moments belonged only to us, a victory of faith and second chances.