“I get it.” It’s the rest of the world I don’t trust. That’s thest thing she needs to hear after having Charles for a father. No doubt his work tainted the way he raised her, not to mention how his wife died. The hair on the back of my neck stands at the thought of her. I set Roger on the task of digging <b>up </b>information the day Charles showed up, and as far as I know<b>, </b>there’s been nothing yet. The woman was innocent, the way her daughter is.


    “So you’d back off with the following me and tracking if we were together?”


    “If?” The word stirs uncertainty in my gut. “What do you mean by f?”


    Her head tips back until it rests against the headboard. “You know how I told you that my dad thinks you killed my mom–and even though I don’t believe you did it, he does.” Her chin quivers before she adds, “It would kill him to know we’re together.”


    He already knows, little bird. It’s on the tip of my tongue, prepared to tumble past my lips and throw our entire conversation on its head. It might be easier for her if I break the news of Charles’s visit and my awkward confession. However, remembering why I haven’t told her about it yet, sets me straight. I don’t want her to know the condition he was in at the time, and there’s no way to avoid it. A sober, sane man doesn’t barrel their way onto mypound and pull a gun. Not on me. Caterina would, of course, rightly assume his condition.


    All I know is that he hasn’t told her yet. He might be too embarrassed to admit what he did. If that’s the case, I’m not going to shame him.


    There’s nothing to do other than hold my tongue about it. “He’s a grown man. He’ll have to handle it eventually.”


    “Not until he’s got proof of who killed Mom.” She wraps her arms around herself, sighing. “Until then<b>, </b>there’s no way it won’t look like I’m a traitor who’s, you know, spitting on Mom’s grave.”


    The soft whimper does something to me. It twists me up inside, causing me pain, and gives me no choice but to put an arm around her whether she wants me to or not. Judging by the way she leans against me, tucking her head under my chin, I think she wants me to. It’s a good sign. I have to take whatever good signs I can get.


    “I told youst night, and I’ll say it again.” I brush my lips against the top of her head. This precious, beautiful creature trembling in my arms. Trusting me. Needing me. “I’m going to find out who did it. We’re going to get through this.”


    “What if you can’t? The cops couldn’t all this time.” Then she scoffs softly. “There could also be dirty cops around. That’s another one of Dad’s theories too.”


    Again, I bite my tongue. He’s not wrong. There’s a reason charges don’t stick to me. I cover my tracks. There are more than a handful of cops around town who buy their kids Christmas presents with the money they earn on the side. Money thates


    from me.


    Nevertheless, I didn’t make the order. I might not be the only game in town. Our so–called friends in the department might be working additional overtime, taking whatever moneyes their way regardless of where it’sing from. It obviously doesn’t exin why an innocent woman died, but some of these guys don’t operate under anything resembling a moral code.


    “Anyway, there’s still another problem, and I can’t let it go.” I know what’sing before she lifts her head, eyeing me warily. “Your wife.”


    “My ex–wife,” I groan.


    “Your soon–to–be ex–wife.”


    “Very soon,” I vow, touching my lips to the tip of her nose. “I’m working my ass off, trying to convince her to sign the papers<b>. </b>Rather, thewyers are. We aren’t supposed to contact each other, but I have faith in my team. They’ll get it settled.”


    I hook a finger under her chin and tilt it so our eyes meet. “You are not the so–called other woman. You are the only woman. She hasn’t been anything to me except a pain in the ass for years.”


    When that doesn’t seem to be enough–for the light in her eyes has dimmed–I add, “I understand your feelings about it. I do. The only reason Amalia is still my wife is her refusal to sign the divorce papers. Right now, that’s the best I can offer, although I


    won’t stop until she signs them. I don’t want to stay married to her or be with her.”


    Still, she frowns. <b>“</b>I’m asking a lot from you, aren’t I?”


    “You’re worth it. Every bit and more.” I wish I could find the word to make her understand I’d move heaven and earth <b>if </b>she


    asked me to.


    “I’m worth having some freedom once this is all cleared up and we can be together for real? Out in the open?”


    My mouth has a bitter taste at the thought, but I fight through it. This is who she needs me to be. “Thest thing I want is to clip your wings, little bird. You deserve to fly, and I won’t be the one who stops you.”


    The light radiating from her smile makes the sacrifice worth it. I’ll have to keep the memory close to the forefront of my mind, since the idea of letting my little bird fly goes against every instinct I have.


    I have her in my arms, happy and as content as she can be, under the circumstances. I suppose her happiness is worth the sacrifice. Having her body close to mine, knowing she wants to be here and wants a future just as much as I do, is as close to contentment as a man like me deserves.