He lifted a quizzical brow. “Meaning?”
“I was wrong.”
“So you don’t think I’m a complete and total fuckup?”
I shook my head. The glint in his eyes kept me from elaborating.
“You’re withholding something.”
Jesus, Mercy, just fucking say it.
“And… I-I’m sorry. Okay? I’m just… sorry.”
“You sure your tongue ain’t bleeding after choking those words out?”
“Ha-ha. Don’t be a jerk, Sheriff.”
His answering smile was a little slow, a little smug, but he’d earned it. “Apology accepted, Sergeant Major.”
“So now what?”
“You tell me.”
I threw my hands up. “I don’t know. Do we kiss and make up? Do we just go on as we were before?”
Dawson shook his head. “That’s not enough for me.”
My face heated. “You saying I’m not enough for you?”
“No, I’m saying it’s all or nothing.”
The part of me that didn’t like ultimatums bristled. But it wasn’t strong enough to make me walk away. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
I gestured at the space between us. “Be in a relationship.”
“You think I don’t know that this is uncharted territory for you? You think I don’t know you’ve been fighting me every goddamn step of the way?” Irritated, but attempting to stay calm, Dawson shifted his stance. “Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but we already have a relationship. It’s as dysfunctional as I’ve ever seen, but it’s there.”
Relief swept through me that I hadn’t completely screwed this up. “I know that now.”
“Do you?”
“Stop bouncing everything back to me as a question,” I snapped. “This is hard.”
Dawson shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be.”
“See, that’s why we need to establish some… ground rules. I relate better when I have rules.”
“Fine. I’ll make the rules if you’ll follow them.”
“Blindly?”
“Yep.”
Shit.
Could I do this?
Time to fish or cut bait, girlie.
“I’ll try,” I offered.
“Yes. Or no.”
“Fine. Yes.”
Dawson’s hands came out of his pockets. He pushed away from my pickup with deliberate ease, ambling toward me.
Damn if my heart didn’t beat faster, but I didn’t move.
He didn’t ask for permission to touch me, as he sometimes did. He curled one hand around the back of my neck and brought his mouth down on mine with purpose and intent. And heat. God. The heat between us always caught me by surprise.
One kiss shouldn’t make the world fall away, but it did. I clung to him with my body, my hands, my mouth, until I realized how needy I must seem. I tried to pull away, but Dawson wouldn’t let me go.
His lips slid to my ear. “Come home with me. Now.”
“If that’s a rule, I like it.”
He chuckled. “That’s not the first rule.”
“Umm. What is the first rule?”
“When I say get in the truck, you get in the truck.”
“That’s it?”
“Huh-uh. Second rule: don’t question the first rule.”
I smiled against his chest. “It can’t be that simple.”
“Oh, sugar, nothin’ with you is ever gonna be simple. I accepted that the first time I clapped eyes on you.”
“And yet, you don’t sound like that’s a bad thing.”
“It’s not. I like who you are, Mercy. I wouldn’t have snuck around in secret with you the last few months if I didn’t believe there was something worth sneaking around for.”
Relieved-and yet terrified-I pressed my face into his neck and breathed him in, this man who was tough enough to stand firm… against the craziness that was me. “Dawson, we should-”
“Ah ah ah. What’s the first rule?”
“Get in the truck.”
“So why are you still standing here?”
I got in the truck.
No. No. No.
Stop. Please.
I bolted upright, gasping, heart slamming in my chest, body sheened with sweat. Where was I? Why didn’t I recognize anything in my room?
Because I wasn’t in my room.
This was why I rarely spent the night at Dawson’s place. In addition to dealing with the nightmare, I had to find my sanity in an unfamiliar place.
Dawson didn’t stir as I pushed the covers back and escaped.
The moonlight glinted off the white countertop in his kitchen. My hand shook so hard that I spilled half the glass of water on myself. Gripping the glass, I stared out the window facing the field behind his trailer.
Part of me knew the nightmare stemmed from wrestling with my conscience on whether I should tell Dawson my suspicions about Anna.
Hadn’t you already decided?
No. Turn her in; let her go. Either decision seemed wrong. But I wasn’t sure what I could ever do to make it right.
“Mercy?”
I jumped. “Dammit, Dawson. Don’t sneak up on me.”
“Sorry. I’ve been standing here awhile.”
Now I felt the need to apologize. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I know. How bad was it?”
I wasn’t surprised he knew. Maybe the gasps of terror tipped him off. “Bad enough.”
Dawson didn’t push, which I appreciated. Even if I wanted to talk about it, I wouldn’t know where to start.
But he did. “About six months after I got out of the marines, I had a flashback on a commercial plane. One second I’d dozed off, the next my hands were wrapped around the throat of the guy in the seat next to me.”
“What happened afterward?”
“I apologized to the guy. The flight attendants moved me to the back of the plane. After I checked in to my hotel, I proceeded to get very, very drunk.”
“I’ve found that therapy doesn’t work long term.”
“Me either.”
I took another sip of water. If Dawson saw my hand shake, he didn’t mention it.
He moved in behind me. “Mercy, come back to bed.”
“But-”
“Your choice. We stay up and you can explain if the combat nightmares are somehow related to the fresh knife wounds on your throat and the puncture wound on your chest. Or you can come back to bed, and I’ll find some… inventive ways to distract you from thinking about any of it.”
My pulse quickened, in a good way for a change. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
TWENTY-FOUR
Anna was a no-show.
Since Dawson had to be in the office early, I’d stayed in his bed until right before my scheduled breakfast with Anna. My laziness was only half from exhaustion. The other half was from avoidance.
When I’d tried to talk to Dawson last night, he’d made a new rule on the spot. No talking about cases or campaigns. He wanted one night with me where it was just us. Mercy and Mason. I even called him Mason a couple of times, just to prove to him-and maybe to myself-that I saw him playing a different role in my life.
On a whim after I left the diner, I entered Pete’s Pawnshop. Anna had spent enough time in here that maybe Pete was privy to plans she hadn’t shared with me.
Pete came from the back room, a gooey doughnut clutched in his hand, frosting coating his beard. “Morning, Mercy. Sorry to hear you lost the election.”
Liar. “Thanks.”
“You don’t look as upset as I’d imagined.”
Did he expect I’d be bawling my eyes out? In public? Like that’d ever happen. “Naturally, I’m disappointed, but Dawson knows his stuff, so the county will stay in good hands for another four years.”