This Love Hurts (This Love Hurts 1)

Which makes the second and third messages harder to listen to.

Marcus.

My reaction to hearing his name on her lips is visceral. Bastard! Anger tears through me that he went to her, that he dared to make contact with her.

I’ll kill him. If he touches her, I’ll cut his fucking throat open.

Attempting to play off the emotions that roll through me while surrounded by my team in the back of the van, I can barely respond.

“Right, Walsh?” Evan jokes, shoving his shoulder against mine as we head down the highway.

“Right,” I say as I nod in agreement and then lean forward, gripping the back of Parker’s headrest. “Hey, I need to stop up here for a minute,” I call up to the driver, Bradley. The van has always seemed small with the six of us spread out in the eight-seat vehicle. Two in each row and the black cases in the back stacked up just behind me.

I do all right playing it off even though I feel sick to my stomach, and my hand’s wrapped around my phone with a viselike grip.

They all know about Marcus, but they don’t know the truth. The details are where the betrayal lies and they wouldn’t understand that.

I don’t rush out of the van when we stop. If I did, they’d know something’s up. They probably already do. I don’t want them involved any more than they’ll insert themselves without being told shit. They only need to know what they already know about me and Delilah, which isn’t a damn thing.

She’s for me to take care of and unless I really need them, I’m keeping them in the dark. That’s the way it has to be. The rest stop is typical. They’re always the same. Gas station on one side for passenger vehicles, with diesel pumps on the other for trucks and other commercial transport. The smell of gasoline is strong as I make my way past the pumps. There’s a convenience store with an entrance on the outside and then inside contains a food court and restrooms. The brisk night air is the only comfort against my hot skin.

Evan, a man taller than me and with more years in the bureau too, climbs out behind me and yells for me to wait up. The walk with him is silent and I know he’s catching on to the tension but he gives me my space. Lord knows Evan has his own secrets and if the man is good at anything, it’s respecting boundaries.

This time of night, there are fewer families in the rest stops than during the day, but this particular one has never been empty any time we’ve stopped here.

The interior is littered with cheap tables that are half-filled and the smell of burgers and fried food lingers in the air. There’s only one corner relatively vacant and I pick that one, ignoring Evan’s questioning look as he heads for the restroom and I don’t.

The legs of the chair grind against the speckled linoleum and I take a moment to compose myself before I call Delilah. The tips of my fingers are numb as fear and anger stir inside of me.

If he threatened her, I’ll kill him. I’ll find him and kill him. If anyone has a clue as to where Marcus hangs out, it’s me.

I don’t know where he lives or what he looks like, but with the information I’ve got, my team will find him. I’ll come clean, for her. I’ll confess everything.

If it wasn’t him who left the note and he knows who’s after her… then we have an even bigger problem on our hands.

Her number’s on speed dial and without thinking twice I hit number 8, my lucky number, swallowing thickly as I stare straight ahead, mindlessly watching two kids pull on their father’s jacket, begging for a cookie that’s larger than the size of their small hands. They’re all the way across the food court, but everyone in here can hear their pleas.

The phone rings and rings and just when I think it’s going to voicemail, Delilah answers.

“Cody,” she says and the longing and relief contained in the single-word answer does something to me. My heart sinks but in a way that’s difficult to describe.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” I tell her first, dropping my gaze to the gray lacquered tabletop. Fuck, I’m sorry for so much. The truth goes unspoken.

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” she answers quickly. “They found the kid, he works for a pizzeria and he’s the one who left the note. He said a woman asked him to drop it off for me. She told him she was my friend and it was an inside joke. He had no idea.”

A kid and a woman? The man I knew years ago as Marcus would never have involved children in his work. Never. Maybe she was right in the last message she sent. Two different situations, both colliding. My instincts tell me Marcus, at the very least, knew she’d be threatened. He has a hand in every sin that occurs in our city and I don’t believe he just happened to be there. If the last decade has taught me anything, it’s that there’s no such thing as coincidence.