I don't know what I expected love to be like. Violins playing, little cupids flying around with bow and arrows, hell maybe just cuddles in bed for hours. That wasn't what happened the following morning. Brack paced across the carpet of my living room with his cell to his ear listening to one of his men on the other end. He cast a glance or two my way. I could tell before the call ended that he would try his non-communication shit with me again.
I was right.
"What's the news?" I asked the second he lowered the phone.
He came over and sat beside me. "Nothing to worry about."
I gave him my I'm-about-to-slam-you-with-a-tennis-racquet look. "Bullshit." I was beginning to notice his tells. The fingers traveling through his hair was a sign that he didn't want to enlighten me. I waited.
He breathed out a slow and steady breath of air. "Mack didn't see his attacker, but he heard him before he lost consciousness."
My heartbeat accelerated. "Okay. Spill it."
