Page 37 of Cowboy Elite 2: Mike

"I don't know. Maybe. Our eyes met for half a second. Maybe less. But it was enough." She looked at Mike, and her eyes were haunted. "I ran. Grabbed my coat. Walked out the service entrance like I was just going for air. And I never went back."

Mike shifted his hands and threaded his fingers through hers.

"I told one person. A detective I'd met before. His daughter went to culinary school with me. He believed me, suspected we were dealing with organized crime. He said if I stayed in New York, I'd likely end up dead or framed. So he gave me cash. A burner phone. A fake social security card. And told me to disappear for a while."

"And you've been running ever since."

She nodded.

"I'm so tired, Mike." Her voice broke. "I'm tired of being scared. Tired of lying. Tired of waiting for the other shoe to drop. And I really just want to call my mom—and we’re not even that close."

They sat in silence for a long moment. The lake whispered. Somewhere, a night bird called.

Mike's hands were still holding hers. She could feel his pulse in his wrist—steady, strong, alive.

"I don't know what to do," she said finally.

"First off, you don’t pull any more disappearing stunts." His thumb traced slow circles on the back of her hand. "Next, you trust us. You let us help."

She looked up at him then. Really looked. At the man who'd given her a job without asking questions. Who'd fought with her over biscuits and laughed when she won. Who'd held her in a walk-in freezer and didn't let go even when the door opened.

Who'd ridden out into the dark to find her when he could have just left her to her own stupidity.

"Why?" she whispered. "Why are you willing to put yourself and your whole family in danger for me?"

Mike's jaw worked. He looked away, then back. "Because when you're in my kitchen at five in the morning, humming while you roll dough, the whole world makes sense." His voice went rough. "Because Charlotte lights up when you walk in a room. Because you make Arletta laugh. Because Kenny almost smiled at you yesterday, and that man doesn't smile at anyone."

He paused.

"Because when I look at you, Liv, I don't see someone running. I see someone I want to run toward."

Her breath caught.

His hand came up, slow and careful, and cupped the side of her face. His thumb brushed just beneath her cheekbone, catching a tear before it could fall.

“I’m going to kiss you now, Cookie.” Although he stated his intention it was still a question, one that she answered by fisting her hand in his shirt and leaning in, giving him permission.

Her lips were soft and mobile and made him want to rush and savor at the same time. He slid his hands into her hair, tilting her head, and she made a sound low in her throat that broke something open in his chest. She tasted like salt and fear and something sweeter underneath. Hope, maybe. Trust.

His other arm came around her waist, pulling her closer, and she went willingly, pressing into him like she was trying to memorize the shape of him, the warmth, the solidness of a man determined to stand his ground.

Reluctantly, he pulled back, rested his forehead against hers.

“I just want this all to be over, to go back to a normal life,” she whispered. “I’m scared.”

"So am I." He kissed her forehead. Her temple. The corner of her mouth. "But I'd rather be scared with you than safe without you."

She let out a shaky laugh. "That's the worst logic I've ever heard."

"Yeah, well. I'm a Marine. We specialize in bad ideas and good outcomes."

She pulled back just enough to look at him, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she smiled. "You're ridiculous."

"You like it."

She nodded. "Yes. I really do."

He stood, pulling her up with him, and wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "Come on. Let's get you home."