Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 111416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“Glad you think this is humorous.”
His grin flattened. “Nova, I was just doing what I thought needed to be done to be convincing. I certainly didn’t want him leaving with the product. Just in case you have doubts and I need to clear them, I don’t fucking hit women. I don’t get my kicks abusing women.”
“I didn’t say you did, but there are plenty of fucking men who do.” She blew out a slow breath.
She was damn sure plenty of bikers knocked their women around. Luckily, she hadn’t seen it with the Angels and hopefully she never would because, without a doubt, she would step in.
His eyes narrowed on her and when he reached out to touch the cheek he struck, she leaned out of his reach.
She shook her head. “No.”
“I was playing my part, Nova.”
Of course he was. “I’m well aware of that. That doesn’t mean I have to accept what you did or even forgive you.”
She would but she didn’t have to.
Of course she expected him to be physical with her. Playing grab ass, cupping her pussy or squeezing her breasts were one thing. Backhanding her…
That was a whole different ball game.
Of course she knew it was Ghost hitting Kitten, not Fletch hitting Nova. Because if it had been the second scenario, all bets would’ve been off and she would not have hesitated to strike back and defend herself.
But she still let it get to her because it dragged back memories of dealing with Russo Sr. The man was a damn monster, but she had stuck with that assignment because she had successfully integrated herself into the organization. Not an easy feat. And no one in the FBI had gotten that close to the head of the family. She alone managed it and she wasn’t going to possibly fuck up the only chance to bring the Mob boss down.
Because of that, she took the hits along with the successes.
“Swear I won’t do it again. Ever. I went with my gut and, clearly, my gut was dead wrong.”
She closed her eyes and sighed. He said he had gone with his gut, and if she had to admit it, she would’ve done the same. “It wasn’t.”
“Whether it was or wasn’t, it won’t happen again, Nova. I regretted it the second I did it.”
Her eyes opened when his long fingers splayed over her cheek. The one that didn’t throb.
He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip and then tipped her face up to him. “Let’s go home so I can make it up to you.”
Sometimes dark clouds did have a silver lining.
But only sometimes.
Chapter Twenty-One
Fletch wasted no time taking them back to the pawn shop and their temporary residence.
During most of the ride he kept a grip on her knee.
Whether that was to reassure her or himself, she didn’t know. But she got it. He felt guilty.
And at first, she was shocked when he struck her, but by the time they dismounted the Harley and climbed the stairs, she was mostly over it and had forgiven him. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t make him suffer a little for it.
Being undercover, sometimes you were forced to do things you normally wouldn’t. It went with the territory. She had no doubt he would never get physical with her in that manner if they hadn’t been playing their roles.
So, yes, after the initial surprise, the longer she thought about it and the way he acted and his look of regret afterward, she forgave him but it would be hard to forget.
But not because of him.
He peered over his shoulder at her as he unlocked the front door. “You okay?”
“Yes, fine.” She followed him into the dark, cooler interior and immediately shrugged out of her hot leather cut.
While he locked up, she went into the kitchen to grab a beer and ice for her still smarting cheek. When she closed the freezer door after grabbing a tray of ice, she jumped when she backed up and bumped into Fletch.
He grabbed the tray from her and twisted to crack the ice loose. “Grab a towel.”
She pulled one from a drawer along with a plastic, sealable bag.
He plucked those from her fingers, too, filled the baggy with the ice, wrapped it in the towel, then crooked his finger at her. “I said I’m going to make it up to you.”
“I figured you meant when we were naked.”
He scratched at his chest. “Well, I thought that was a given.”
He must have been anxious to shed his cut, too. She glanced down. And his boots.
“You want a beer?” she asked, before taking a sip of hers.
“In a minute. C’mere,” he urged softly.
She studied the man before her, now leaning back against the counter with the ice in his hand.
She realized at that moment they’d slid from simply being undercover partners, fellow task force members and even sex partners into something much more solid. She had no idea when that deeper connection happened, but she guessed it could’ve been that first night in his bed when she felt a slight shift.