Dirty Secrets (Get Dirty 4)

He knows his words piss me off, and I narrow my eyes at him, pressing my shoulders back and standing upright. A king demanding reverence. “Excuse me?”

Logan doesn’t back down as I expected and continues. “You don’t wear it on your sleeve like she does, but you’re just as unraveled. I get it, she’s special. Everyone who’s spent five minutes with her knows that. She brought you to life, like the miracle worker she is. Now she’s gone, and you’re five different kinds of fucked up because of it. Just as much as she needs to figure shit out, so do you. Don’t go fuck her up more than she already is because you can’t handle your shit.”

It’s probably the longest string of words I’ve ever heard from Logan, which sucks because he’s one hundred percent right and we both know it. Still, his words sting, and my hand clenches in desire to punch him for the liberties he’s taking speaking to me, even if I gave him permission to do so.

Instead, after a moment, my hand relaxes and I reach up, patting him on the shoulder. “Perhaps you’re right, Logan.”

He nods. “You’re a good man, Dominick. As much as you can be. But what you’re asking her to do, to be, is a lot for someone who has no frame of reference for the world you live in. She doesn’t understand. But I think she could. You can’t keep her compartmentalized like you have been. Either she’s in all the way or out all the way.” He pauses, letting that sink in. “I think you need to bring her in, or at least give her the option. Be clear on it, none of this cloak and dagger shit that you’re good at. But just . . . give the girl a minute to miss you.”

A tiny smile of encouragement flashes on his lips, gone so fast I almost think I imagined it, but it was there. “You think she does? Miss me?”

The rare moment of weakness escapes with the hopeful question before I can stop it, but Logan doesn’t take advantage. “I know she does.”

It helps, and I take a deep breath, going back to my office chair and sitting down to gather my thoughts. “What was she wearing for her first pole fitness class last night?”

It’s an odd segue, and though he looks confused, Logan takes a moment before answering. “I don’t know, sir. The classroom has no windows, you know, and when she came out, she was in her normal sweats, like I said. Same pair she was wearing when she chewed me out. But earlier, when she greeted the ladies in the lobby, she had on black shorts and a baby pink tank top. Why?”

I take a moment to savor the image in my mind. “Thank you, Logan. That’ll be all.”

He doesn’t question me further, hearing that our moment of friendly chatter has ended. But I know without a doubt that my Allison misses me now.

I sent her the package of dancewear with an encouraging note about her first class. Maybe it hadn’t been the smartest play, to push myself into her life when she’d so adamantly forced me out.

But she’d worn the outfit, which means she read the note I sent.

Maybe there is a chance I can earn my way back into her life.

But the last time I tried to do a delicate dance, it ended in spectacular flames and nine thousand dollars’ worth of broken surveillance equipment.

And my gut tells me that if I go in like a bull in a china shop, demanding and pressuring with expectations of obedience, Allie would rebel like the hellcat she is. While I enjoy her moments of wildness, I need it to be within reason.

There’s got to be a way to keep her safe, to keep her by my side, and to keep her mine.

Chapter 22

Allie

“Oh, my goodness, girl. You look like . . .” Maggie says as I open the door before her voice stalls.

She just looks at me, her mouth pursing as she tries to find a nice way to put it.

Finally, I just wave her inside. “Helluva greeting after not seeing me for so long. And you can say it, I look like shit. Believe me, I’m well aware because I feel even worse.”

Maggie shakes her head, her newly-dyed platinum curls bouncing. “No, I mean you look fine, just . . .”

She doesn’t finish the thought, just grabs me in a big hug, squeezing me tight. She’s surprisingly strong for a little thing. I’d forgotten just how much.

“Grr, I could just shoot that man for what he’s doing to you,” she says when she lets me go, and though my lips tilt up slightly, it’s far from my usual beaming smile. “I can do it, you know. I think the law’s on my side.”