“Why?” His voice was stark, chilling.

“I told myself it was because of Rowdy and Natches. I told myself I couldn’t handle having my heart broken when you refused to give up that lifestyle, but when I returned last year and saw you the first time, I knew better. I couldn’t come back because I knew you would end up owning my soul. And if that happened, I wouldn’t be able to just walk away. I’d hate it. I’d end up destroying myself over it, but if you had pressed, I knew I couldn’t have refused anything you wanted.”

Facing that fact had been the hardest part of the last few days, and Crista knew it. Knowing that in her heart she had wasted eight years of her own life running from herself hadn’t been easy.

“Were you relieved you had the miscarriage, Crista?” he asked, his voice bleak, shattered.

She hadn’t expected that question from him. She had expected recriminations, a suspicion that she had deliberately gotten pregnant, but she hadn’t expected this.

“I nearly died, Dawg,” she cried hoarsely. “I wanted to die.”

His head lifted from the file, his expression so stark, so furiously intent, that she felt her chest tighten with pain.

“Why did you want that baby so bad, Crista?” he asked her then.

Suspicion. She heard it in his voice, but all she saw in his face was the same expression she had seen the night she found him drunk, his truck in a ditch and his drunken bitterness pouring from his voice as he cursed his parents.

“Because it was our baby,” she answered simply, tearfully. “A part of you and a part of everything I felt for you. And it was innocent, Dawg. No matter how frightened I was, or what you wanted, it wasn’

t our baby’s fault.”

Sweet God, his eyes were wet, so dark now, haunted and rife with agony as he stared back at her.

“Would you have told me about our baby?”

How to answer that one? She felt like a criminal on trial now, and Dawg was her judge and jury.

The way he watched her terrified her.

“No.” She wasn’t going to lie to him, not now. “But Alex would have. He was already set to tell you when I miscarried. I was—” She bit her lip as she glanced away for long seconds. “I was too scared, Dawg. I don’t know if I could have survived your denial of our child. You didn’t even remember the night we spent together. I knew you didn’t. You would have never believed I was carrying your baby.”

He stared down at the file, closing it slowly and pushing it away. The heaviness in his expression broke her heart. His brows were lowered, his features tight with the grief she had felt the minute she realized she was losing his child.

“I would have believed you,” he finally said, his voice rough, harsh, as he lifted his head and stared back at her, his green eyes dark with sorrow. “Don’t you know, Crista? I would have used any excuse to claim you.”

She had to turn away from him. Her hand pressed to her lips as pain tore through her chest. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t stop the tears that flooded her eyes. She had to hide from what she saw in his eyes then. The shutters were removed, the distance he always forced on himself was stripped away, and the loneliness and the pain glittered in the light green orbs.

And she couldn’t face it. She couldn’t face the fact that she had added to it.

A second later his arms were wrapping around her, pulling her against his chest, surrounding her with a warmth that she had only known when she was in his arms.

“I would have destroyed us both,” she whispered tearfully, her hands gripping his hard forearms as her head lowered. “I would have made us miserable.”

“Shh. Don’t, Crista,” he whispered against her ear. “Don’t blame yourself. We both grew up, baby. But the thought of you going through that alone. Carrying my child, losing it.” One hand lifted to her face as he turned her, his opposite arm wrapping around her and holding her to him as he wiped the tears from beneath one eye. “It tears me apart.”

Crista tried to shake her head.

“Don’t.” He stopped her, sighing heavily as his forehead rested against hers. “You’ve been scared to even tell me, Crista. You’ve held back, you’ve let yourself hurt and not even considered telling me, haven’t you?”

“I was going to tell you when we got back here.” She swallowed tightly. “I couldn’t hold back any longer, Dawg. Loving you terrified me, until I awoke in your arms and realized I’ve always loved you.

And I’ve been dying inside without you all these years. Never knowing, always wondering what if. The wondering was killing me. Being without you was breaking my heart more every year.”

She stared into his eyes, and they broke her heart. His expression was twisted into lines of grief, his brows heavy with the internal pain she could glimpse in his eyes.

“I won’t let you go, Crista,” he whispered then. “Not now, not ever. We’re going to get through this investigation, find out what the hell Johnny is pulling, and then we’re going to figure this relationship out. Just you and me.”

“I should have told you.” She reached up, cupped his cheek, and ached at the pain in his face. “I shouldn’t have run from you, Dawg.”

She admitted that now, though it was something she had known, even then. Running away from him hadn’t been the answer. Running away from herself had, in ways, been even worse.

“No more running,” he told her softly, gently, his lips lowering to hers, taking them in a kiss that had her breath hitching in her chest.

The sheer gentleness rocked her mind. The way his head tilted, the lingering emotion and banked passion seemed to sink into her soul and leave her fighting for breath in a way that the raw lust never had.

When he pulled back, grief creased his expression and sheened his eyes as well as lust. Lust and hunger and need so powerful now it stole her breath.

“If I start now, we won’t stop. Let’s see about our lunch, sweetheart, figure some of this out, and later…” His eyes were heartbreaking. Filled with pain and need. “Later, we’ll pick this up.”

Crista inhaled roughly and tried to pull her thoughts back into some semblance of order. She tried to give him the time he needed, and she knew he needed time. She could see it in his face, in his bleak gaze.

“I can’t believe Johnny is involved in this.” She shook her head, wondering how many more times Dawg could handle the betrayals from the family that should have stood by him.

He had Rowdy and Natches and Rowdy’s father, Ray, but Crista had seen how alone he was other than those three. He had few friends; he trusted no one but the cousins he had grown up with and the one uncle who had stood by him.

And no one held him.

“Oh, I could believe just about anything out of Johnny,” Dawg bit out, slowly drawing away from her and heading back to the table where the picnic basket still sat. “He’s definitely his mother’s son.”

Dawg’s heart was breaking for the things they had both lost because of his ignorance—for his child, for the woman he loved before he knew what love was. He wasn’t that same immature man any longer. He had been too damned rock dumb to go after what he wanted, even though he had sensed what Crista would mean to his future. He wasn’t dumb anymore.

“Why would he do this, though?” Crista set the basket on the far end of the bar before moving into the kitchen and pulling ice from the freezer for the tea that had been packed with the food. “He’s your cousin. When I left Somerset, Johnny followed after the three of you like a shadow.”

Dawg shook his head. “Johnny followed us like a shadow to see how much trouble he could brew up. We knew he was gay even then, and he was terrified we’d tell on him. Not that we cared either way; it was his damned troublemaking we couldn’t stand. His and his mother’s.”

Crista frowned heavily as she filled the glasses with ice.

“I always remember how nice Jcohnny was.” She bit her lip as she lifted her gaze to him, and Dawg wondered if he had ever seen that look in anyone else’s eyes. It wasn’t pity; it was compassion and anger for him. She was angry on his behalf, because she loved him. Even now, after everything he had done to her.

His chest clenched at the thought. She had even said the words, and this time, it wasn’t just a hazy memory. She loved him, and he’d be damned if he was going to spend precious time distrusting her.

No, she wasn’t part of the Trinity, but she was a gift from God himself. The days he had spent with her, despite the problems that had arisen, had been freer, happier than any he might have known in his life.

“Johnny’s a deceptive little bastard. He likes to draw you in, and every second that he’s playing the concerned buddy and dear friend, he’s looking for ways to slash your throat. He learned the art at his mother’s knee, and after the death of his father, she had free rein to reinforce the lessons.”

“His father, Ralph, was one of my dad’s few friends.” Crista’s lips tilted sadly. “Mom hated Nadine, though. She hated to even see her come into the store.”

Dawg nodded in response. “Everyone liked Ralph. If he had lived, he would have divorced Nadine eventually, but maybe Johnny would have had a chance.”

“How do you think he got mixed up in this thing with the missiles?” She frowned then. “And don’t think you’re not going to pay for lying to me about drugs.”

“I never said it was drugs, Crista Ann; you assumed.” He sighed.

“You could have corrected my assumption.”

His grin was still tinted with the grief that lingered in his gaze, but at least a measure of amusement tipped it now, Crista thought.

“Johnny makes a habit of making friends with military types,” he told her. “They feel sorry for him at first, until they realize it’s lust and not hero worship he’s displaying. Somehow, he finally hooked up with someone dumb enough to get pulled into one of his schemes or let out the information, and he used it. Either way, as soon as Natches and Cranston have the information together and a warrant, he’ll no longer be a threat.”

She paused, staring back at him as disbelief slammed inside her head.

“What are you talking about? Aren’t they arresting him now?”

“Not without enough proof. We don’t have enough yet.” Dawg set plates on the table as she continued to stare at him in horror.

“But it was him. We all recognized him, Dawg.”

He shook his head, his expression weary, bitter. “Doesn’t matter, Crista. Any decent defense lawyer would have him out of jail within an hour and a lawsuit against the arresting agents not long afterward. We need proof, not the testimony of two cousins who have every reason in the world to want to crucify him.”

The bitterness in his voice wasn’t one of hatred but one of disillusionment.

“I’m sorry.” She fought to rein back her anger. “Family should stick together, not try to destroy each other.”

She couldn’t have survived childhood without Alex. Her brother had been her rock, her anchor, and later, her best friend. She couldn’t imagine having him hate her enough to try to destroy her or anyone she loved.

“Yeah well, that’s in a perfect world, sweetheart.” He shook his head as though shaking away his own regrets, then flashed her a smile that was at once teasing and filled with hunger. “Let’s eat our lunch.

We’re hanging around the marina for the rest of the day, until Natches gets back to us. Once we’ve decided what to do to, things will move fast enough. Let’s enjoy the quiet time we have for a while.”

As he said that, a knock sounded at the door.

Crista’s lips twitched as she glimpsed three shadows, two taller, the other petite and delicate.