Page 64 of Vengeance

“Think about it now.” He couldn’t because a future with Chloe was too dangerous to imagine.

“I don’t belong in Huntsville,” he insisted.

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m Dante Manzo’s son.”

“What about Savage?” she asked. “You meant something to him, too.” Vengeance froze, and Chloe’s eyes widened as though she hadn’t meant to say it, but she didn’t take it back.

“He wasn’t my father,” Vengeance said.

“He checked on you for six months. He taught you how to fix a motorcycle. He left you his gun and wrote you a letter.” Her voice softened. “Maybe you didn’t have his blood running through his veins, but he was like a father to you, Vengeance.” Emotion tightened around his throat. Savage had said the samething to him once—that family was a choice. Vengeance had never believed that choice included him.

Chloe stepped forward and placed his hand against his cheek. “Last night was real.”

He traced his thumb beneath her eye, catching a tear. “I know.”

“And I don’t regret it,” she admitted.

“Neither do I,” he said.

“Good, but I need you to stop deciding what I can handle,” she said.

“That might take some work,” he teased.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not fragile.”

“I know.”

“You keep treating me like I am,” she said.

“I treat you like you’re the most important person in my life,” he said. The words escaped before he could stop them. Chloe stared at him, and Vengeance’s heart pounded. He had survived bullets with less fear than he felt standing in front of her.

“The most important?” she whispered. He nodded. “That sounds a lot like love.”

“It probably is,” he said. “But then, I’ve already told you that I love you, honey. I’ve never done this before.”

“Love someone?” she asked.

“Have someone love me back.” Her expression broke. Before he could say anything else, she closed the remaining distance and wrapped her arms around him. Vengeance held her tightly. He buried his face against her hair and allowed himself one dangerous moment to believe he could keep her.

The radio crackled in the kitchen, and they both froze. Three short bursts of static followed by two. It was Bowie’s signal.Chloe pulled away first. “He’s early.” His messages came every fourteen days, and the last one had arrived only four days ago.

Vengeance grabbed his jeans and pulled them on before retrieving his pistol from the nightstand. Chloe followed him into the kitchen. The old handheld radio sat on the counter beside the sink, its green light blinking. Another burst of static sounded, and Vengeance picked up the receiver.

“Go.” For several seconds, there was nothing but interference, and then Bowie’s distorted voice came through.

“Package located.” Vengeance glanced at Chloe. Bowie had to be talking about the evidence beneath Doc’s clinic.

“Condition?” he asked.

“Compromised,” Bowie said.

His grip tightened around the radio. “Explain.”