This was tearing her apart. It was destroying her as nothing ever had. As nothing ever could. Guilt at her deception, at the knowledge that Brogan was standing just on the other side of the door between her bedroom and the sitting room, dug into her heart. It was like a lance piercing her soul, the knowledge that she was breaking her word to the only person who had ever given a damn about her besides her mother and sisters.
* * *
Dawg knew guilt when he saw it. Just as he knew the agony of thinking, believing something that should have been his never would be.
The day Christa had told him she had lost their baby when she had been little more than a teenager, that summer she had run from Somerset. He’d felt it then. Felt his soul being sliced in two with a jagged blade.
That was the pain he saw in Eve’s eyes now as nervous guilt darkened them.
How could he tell her he hadn’t meant for her to believe she was betraying him with Brogan without effectively giving her permission or the go-ahead to have a man he knew would endanger her?
She would become a weakness to Brogan as well. A man doing what Dawg suspected Brogan was doing couldn’t afford such a thing. A woman like Eve could break a man’s soul when she was harmed because of his job or something he was doing. But even more, it would destroy Dawg and ensure that he killed Brogan himself.
“You know, Eve,” he finally said, “I’ve always been proud of you, and I’ve always been proud to call you my sister.”
She stared back at him, the pain in her expression only intensifying as she looked away from him, blinking.
“You’ll always be my sister, Eve,” he tried again, knowing he was failing.
“Thank you, Dawg,” she whispered, nodding as she stared back at him. “That means more to me than you know.”
He pushed his hands deeper into his pockets. Maybe he should have brought Christa with him.
“I’m really tired, Dawg.” Those were tears in her voice.
He sharpened his gaze on her face, catching the glitter of moisture in her eyes, and cursed himself. He could kick himself if he could reach his own ass, he thought. Son of a bitch, what was he doing to her? Was this the kind of father he was going to be?
&nb
sp; His sisters were practice, he’d always said. Lately, all he’d done was make them cry.
“I don’t want to see you hurt, Eve,” he tried again. Pulling his hands from his pockets, he laid them on her shoulders, forcing her to stare back at him. “Sometimes, just because our instincts might be right about the person, they’re not always right about whether or not we can trust our hearts to them, you know?”
“Please, Dawg.” She stepped back from him slowly. “Go home to your wife and daughter. Get some sleep. I’m all tucked into bed, safe and sound. No one’s going to hurt me tonight.”
No, she didn’t understand.
He breathed out in irritation and self-disgust.
Yeah, this was a job for Christa.
“I’ll do that.” He sighed. “Get some sleep, Eve.”
“Good night, Dawg.”
Stepping back, she closed the door, and a second later the sliver of light at the side of the heavy curtains covering the glass blinked out.
Dawg shook his head, paused, then turned on his heel and forced himself to walk to the main porch entrance where he’d parked.
Once he reached the steps, he paused.
Eyes narrowed, he looked around slowly.
Something wasn’t right. . . .
* * *
Brogan stepped back into the room, finding Eve as she stood by the patio doors. Her head was lowered, the midnight black silk of her hair falling around her face as he watched her shoulders tremble for a second.