“She’s sleeping.”

“So wake her. I’d like to ask her some questions about Tate and Linton. She’ll know more about them than you do.”

He sighed heavily. “Fine. But be careful what you say. She doesn’t know about Montgomery.”

My ears perked up at that. Montgomery?

“Don’t you think she can deal with it?” asked Emma.

“I think she can deal with it. I’m just not ready for her to know yet.”

“You’d rather she never had to know,” Emma accused.

“Can you blame me? Look at the life she’s had. Look at the way it hounds her. She doesn’t need more dark shit in it.”

“You want to be the good thing in her life. I understand. And I totally approve, because it means you care about her. But if you want this to go the distance, you’ll have to tell her sometime.”

“I will, but she’s smart enough to figure it all out on her own,” he griped. “That’s why I want you to be careful what you say.”

“It’s not like it’s some terrible secret. You’re the only one who thinks you should be ashamed of what happened. Do you think she’d be ashamed of you? That she’d judge how it’s affected and scarred you?”

There was a long pause before Blake spoke. “Some bastard roofied a girl’s drink at the club and tried dragging her out of there. He had a knife in his jacket.”

“Rat bastard,” Emma muttered.

“I had Rossi and the guys stress how bad it would be for him to ever repeat a thing like that. Kensey saw it. Saw me standing in the parking garage, watching and holding a fucking knife. She was once held at knifepoint in a parking garage.”

“Shit.”

“She didn’t run. Didn’t freak out on me. She’s strong. She’s got guts. Do I think she’d judge me? No. But I want a little time before I take that chance. I’d be trusting her with a lot.”

“That’s true. While it’s utterly weird to see you serious about someone, I couldn’t be more thrilled. I’m psyched to meet her—hint, hint.”

Blake let out a long, heavy sigh. “I’ll go wake her.”

My eyes widened. Oh, fuck, I needed to move.

“Just remember to—”

I was quietly scampering back into the bedroom when I heard his cell ringing. Good, that should buy me a few minutes. I was in the middle of brushing my teeth when he entered the en suite bathroom.

He pressed his front against my back and snaked his arms around me, resting his chin on my shoulder. “You look good in my shirt.”

I spat out the toothpaste and rinsed my mouth. “Had to use your toothbrush,” I told him. “Couldn’t find any spares.”

“I don’t keep spares, since I don’t bring women here.”

I liked that response.

He kissed my neck. “Emma’s here. She wants to meet you.”

I tried to look surprised. I must have succeeded, because he didn’t look in the slightest bit suspicious. “I’m not really very presentable right now.” His shirt only came to mid-thigh on me.

He snorted and took my hand in his. “Trust me, Emma has no delicate sensibilities to shock.”

Still, I insisted on slipping on my dress before meeting her. As we descended the staircase, she rose from the breakfast bar with a bright smile. She looked more beautiful in person than she had in the photos. She faintly resembled Laurel with her wide-set eyes, dimpled chin, and slightly protruding ears, but the physical similarities appeared to end there.

“You must be Kensey,” she said. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you. I’m Emma, Blake’s stepsister.”

“Hi.” I forced a smile. “I’m a little socially awkward, in case you can’t tell.”

Blake smiled. “She can tell.”

I elbowed him in the ribs, but he just chuckled.

As we all settled at the kitchen island, Emma told me, “Tara said you had beautiful eyes; she’s right. They’re striking. Oh, Blake, you should keep an eye on that situation—no pun intended,” she added, sobering just a little.

My brow wrinkled. “Situation?”

“Tara’s seduced women away from him in the past,” Emma explained. “Like two brothers competing over women. Only Blake isn’t actually partaking in the competition. It’s just Tara being weird.”

Or Tara being jealous, not wanting to see Blake with other women, I thought.

“Not that I’m saying I think she’ll succeed with you, Kensey,” Emma continued. “Just that, as you’re not a passing fancy to him, he needs to watch that she doesn’t play her games this time.”

If she played any games with me, I’d punch her right in the face.

“Blake told me a little about your current problems. I run a PI firm and, even if I do say so myself, we’re freaking good at what we do. It would help if you could tell me everything you already know—or think you know—about Tate and Linton. I’ll take it from there.”

“Okay.” And then I gave her every bit of information I had on them—most of which I’d already shared with Blake. All the while, I wondered what it was that he was worried I couldn’t understand or accept. Emma had said it wasn’t a terrible secret or something he needed to be ashamed of, but he seemed to think differently.

Unfortunately, Emma kept to her word and was careful with what she said to me, which meant I had no clues except for ‘Montgomery’ … which basically meant I knew fuck all.

After Emma left, Blake and I ate a quick breakfast and then showered. Pinning my arms above my head, he fucked me hard against the tiled wall of the walk-in shower. As such, I was deliciously sated and relaxed as he drove me to my apartment.

Halfway there, Blake said, “Emma liked you.”

Turning my gaze away from the window, I blinked. “Hmm?”

“Emma. She liked you.”

“I liked her.”

“Good.” He paused as he shifted gears. “While we’re on the subject of families, you should introduce me to your mom.”

I tensed. “No, I really shouldn’t.”

“Ashamed of me?”

“With your basement of debauchery? Of course. Clear would be scarred for life if she heard about it.”

The loud chuckle that rumbled out of his chest was a dark, throaty sound that made my stomach clench. “I haven’t even come close to debauching you. But I will. That’s not something your mom needs to know.”

I turned my gaze back to the window as I spoke. “When people meet Clear for the first time, they expect her to be crazy. Why else would she have married a serial killer? She has to be a fucking fruit bat, right? She’s not. I’m not saying she’s normal. She doesn’t live in the real world. She lives in her own bubble; believes what she wants to believe and sees what she wants to see. It’s her fragile mind protecting itself, I guess. But other than that, she’s shockingly normal. When people realize that, they figure that if she’s not crazy, she must be plain cold and evil to the core.”

“You already told me she was damaged deep inside, remember.” He slowed as he reached a red light. “Are you worried I’ll treat her to a lecture about her choice of husband?”

“It wouldn’t matter if you did. Nothing will ever shake her faith in that decision.”