Drawn in Blood (Burbank and Parker 2)

“It’s not that we’re different. It’s how we’re different.” Derek exhaled heavily. “Sloane, I want you to be everything you want to be, everything I know you can be. I want you to go back to Quantico and kick ass. I want you to rejoin the Bureau and be the special agent you’ve been deprived of being for so long. I want you to leave your mark on the world.”

“I never doubted that.” Sloane was studying Derek’s expression, trying to read his thoughts. “Is it my ambition? The pressures of the job? Are you worried that we’ll lose sight of each other once I’m back, working under the same Bureau constraints as you do? Because I’m out now, and I’m still working my ass off.”

“That’s not it—although both of us being workaholics makes it twice as hard to prioritize our relationship. But that’s life. Neither of us does anything halfway. We’ll find a way to make time for each other. With regard to your rejoining the Bureau, if I have to be honest, I hope you’ll go back to white-collar crime. Given what a stubborn, fearless ball-breaker you are, I’ll have less to lose sleep over if you’re out of Violent Crimes. Plus, there’s no way we can ever work together. Our objectivity is compromised. Our feelings get in the way. We’d clash at every turn. Frankly, I’d either kill you or myself.”

Sloane gave a soft laugh. “That won’t be a problem. The FBI wouldn’t put us on the same squad. Hopefully in the same Field Office, but never on the same team. It was hard enough when we collided in Crisis Negotiations where I was the lead negotiator and had to deal with you on SWAT. Our styles are different. Our wills are both like steel. Top that off with our emotional involvement, and, yeah, we’d kill each other if we were on the same squad. But we’ll be working separately. So what’s the problem?”

“Our long-term goals. Personal goals. The ones I try never to bring up. I can’t live like that anymore. I can’t ignore my own needs, waiting for yours to change. Life is too short. Guarantees are nonexistent. We have to treasure what we have, and fight for what we could have.”

“I agree.” Sloane now understood Derek’s reaction to what had happened to her and Jeff this morning. He’d been rattled by the fact that she’d come face-to-face with danger again. It had happened to her far too often these past few years, starting with her near-death experience with the bank robber who’d carved up her hand. All these incidents had impacted Derek, and together with the fragile aspects of their relationship, had brought on this philosophical frame of mind.

“I know how precious life is—and how precious we are,” she assured him. “I never want you to compromise your goals or your needs.” She reached out, caressed his arm. “You’re not the only one who’s grown and whose perspectives have changed. Mine have, too. I’m sorry if I scared you today. I’ll do my best to minimize those situations.”

“How do you feel about kids?” Derek blurted out.

That one caught Sloane totally off guard. She startled, her hand jerking off Derek’s arm. “Excuse me?”

“Children. Babies. How do you feel about having them?”

“Wow.” She breathed. “Talk about coming out of left field.”

“Does that mean you’ve never thought about it? Or that you’ve thought about it and decided motherhood isn’t for you?”

“Derek, we just moved in together.”

“I didn’t ask for a recap. I asked if you wanted kids.”

Sloane was still reeling. “Okay, yes, I want kids—someday. But I’ve got a lot to accomplish before then.” She searched Derek’s face, totally bewildered by this radical leap into the future. “Where is this coming from?”

“From day-to-day life. From risks that appear out of nowhere. From my feelings for you. From the fact that my job is great, but that I want a family. From the knowledge that a family is the only true legacy one leaves behind. From the fact that I see you fighting to protect your father, and I recognize that family means more to you than you realize. And from the fact that, despite my determination to give you space, it isn’t working—not for me. This baby-step stuff is crap. I want more. I want you. Not just as my girlfriend. Not just in a halfway, live-together mode. I want you as my wife, as the mother of my kids.”

Derek’s pronouncement just hung out there, like a finely suspended thread of silk that could either be broken or caressed.

A wealth of emotion swelled inside Sloane—one that was more intense than she’d expected. “I’ve got to hand it to you,” she managed. “When you warned me this conversation would be a biggie, you really meant it.”

“So, am I packing my things and moving out tonight, or can I wait until tomorrow to break the news to Leo that he won’t be finishing his redecorating job?”

Sloane didn’t smile at Derek’s attempt at dry humor.

“When you started talking, I thought you were about to call it quits,” she said with stark candor. “The pain I felt was excruciating. When I realized you were talking about the total opposite, about making us permanent, official—I didn’t feel trapped. I felt moved, overjoyed, and so relieved, you have no idea. I don’t think I realized until this very instant just how much I want to spend my life with you. The space I needed—at some point, I stopped needing it. As for kids…” This time, Sloane smiled, picturing the adorable little tyrants they’d make together. “That’s going to take some mental preparation. It’s also going to take some time, some planning, and a fair amount of juggling, given our careers. But I’d love to have children—our children. I just hope they don’t line up their booties in neat little rows beside their cribs.”

Sloane’s eyes were sparkling with mirth and misty with tears as Derek pulled her into his arms and rolled her onto her back.

“I love you,” he said hoarsely, tunneling his fingers through her hair.

“I love you, too.” Too choked up for words, Sloane resorted to actions, wriggling out of her T-shirt, tugging it over her head, and tossing it aside.

Derek kicked off his gym shorts, then blanketed her body with his.

“Mental preparation, yeah,” he murmured in a husky tone. “But physical preparation, too. Making j

ust the right babies is going to take hard work and practice.” He took her mouth in slow, deep kisses. “Lots of practice.”

“Then we’d better get started right away.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “From what I hear, boot camp is one hell of a challenge.”

Xiao Long sat alone in the back room of his gambling house, gripping his bottle of Tsingtao Dark Beer. Every now and then, he took a swig. Most of the time, he was absorbed in his thoughts.

He was closing in on his prey. A little more toying with them. Just till he got the word. Then came the kill.