Careen heard Tommy stir across the darkened room. For days she’d believed he was her assassin; now, her shattered trust had begun to knit, and an unfamiliar feeling stirred inside her. Optimism? Maybe. She let her lips form his name. Even without being able to see him, she knew exactly how he looked when he was asleep. Her face flushed, and she pushed away memories of kisses given and received a lifetime ago, chiding herself for longing for his touch. She’d agreed to pretend everything was great between them to help ferret out Atari’s dark secrets, but she didn’t trust her own judgment when it came to Tommy. She envisioned a short leap from acting like she cared about him to resuming their physical relationship. She didn’t know if she’d ever be ready for that. It hurt too much to love people and then lose them.
She switched on the lamp. Tommy got up from the pallet he’d made on the floor, dragged one of the blankets around his shoulders, and sat on the edge of the bed.
“That’s because I’m always, always ready for breakfast.”
“Yes, you are. Today I am too.”
“Good. First dibs on the shower.” He tossed the blanket at her playfully, and she couldn’t help casting an admiring glance at his broad shoulders as he headed for the bathroom. She held the still-warm blanket close. His scent lingered in the folds, and she smiled in spite of herself. See? He did that on purpose.
Steeling herself for another uncomfortable interaction with Atari, she brought the gun from under her pillow, climbed out of bed, and hid it between the folded clothes she planned to wear.
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