It was also why I pulled from his arm, took several steps away, turning to face him, but staring at his feet while I tucked hair behind my ear and babbled.

“Well, that was an interesting afternoon’s diversion. But I think now I’m willing to go to the grocery store because we definitely need more cinnamon marshmallow clusters after that.”

And ribeyes and the makings for loaded baked potatoes, because if I could make this man think he wanted to marry me over hamburgers, I was totally broiling him a steak.

“Babe,” he called.

I lifted my eyes to his.

“No pressure,” he said softly. “After what I just said. It’s just, you’re, well…Evan…” He cleared his throat. “You’re just the shit.”

“You’re more the shit,” I told him.

He grinned and his discomfort started to melt away. “I didn’t invent cinnamon marshmallow clusters.”

“Well, I didn’t forgive you in less than twenty-four hours for saying douchey things to me.”

“I didn’t charge your ex, going for blood.”

“I didn’t take a bullet then arrange a commando rescue.”

His grin got bigger and he slightly lifted up his sling. “I’m seeing a variety of pluses for this wound. First, you keep climbing on top, and second, I can drag it out for years, squeezing it for all its worth.”

“I like the top.”

His expression changed and so did his voice when he shared, “Baby, when I’m fighting fit, you’ll beg for the bottom.”

I shivered.

Mag didn’t miss it.

The hot look in his eyes could melt steel.

Even so, I shivered again, and my nipples got so hard, they ached.

“You really should rest that arm,” I whispered.

“Later.”

“Danny—”

“Evie, either get in my bed or I’m gonna carry you there. What’s it gonna be?”

We stared at each other.

He got fed up with it first and took a step toward me.

So, I turned and dashed around the island.

Straight to his room.

Chapter Seventeen

Special

Mag

Tuesday morning, Hawk sat at the head of the conference table in his offices.

Mag sat to Hawk’s left, Jorge to his right, Aug next to Jorge, Mo next to Mag.

“So, we got word. Cisco does not have that gun,” Hawk declared.

Mag’s eyes moved to Jorge, seeing as Jorge was likely behind procuring this information considering he grew up on Mamá Nana’s patch, Mamá had a soft spot for him and Mamá Nana knew everything about everybody because a large part of her operation was trading information.

“Though, it probably goes without saying, Cisco is actively looking for that gun,” Hawk went on.

“Shit,” Auggie muttered.

Mag just concentrated on controlling the boil in his gut because this meant there was a gun floating around out there that killed a cop.

And the man who killed that cop was Cisco, who wasn’t that smart, case in point, the continuing existence of this gun, a gun registered to him that had, if tales being told were true, his prints on it. So he’d clawed his way to where he was because, after Benito Valenzuela was put out of commission, there was a void in the power structure of Denver crime and Cisco wasn’t squeamish about how he went about filling it.

The longer that gun went unfound, the more chance he could get desperate.

This meant Evie was likely still in the line of fire—Cisco’s fire—because that man would leave no stone unturned to cover his own ass.

They’d had a seriously fucked-up Saturday.

Their Sunday was marred only by Mag having to lay it out for Nikki.

And yesterday, Hawk and Smithie had been in touch and told them they were still not to pitch up for work.

This meant he and Evie spent half the day in bed and half the day on the couch with only a quick trip to the grocery store to buy steaks and stuff for loaded baked potatoes and for her to make more of her clusters breaking up these activities.

They’d watched Anaconda.

She’d laughed her way through it.

Then, when she learned he hadn’t seen Harry Potter, she’d had a hilarious fit and made him watch the first two, before he begged her to let him stop.

She’d also gone down on him on his couch, and what she lacked in finesse, she way made up for in spirit, so he knew he could totally work with that and get off on it, and he knew this because he did.

Spectacularly.

And they’d fucked three times, twice with her on top, once with him powering into her on his knees, her in front of him on all fours on his bed, her sweet ass in his hands.

He’d taken a pill both nights and slept like the dead.

Now, he had niggling pain, and in truth, he knew he should take it easy and not fuck his Evie so much.

But he was finding it impossible to keep his hands off her.

Because the woman crafted a mean burger.

But she broiled a spectacular steak.

And now, he was learning they couldn’t just get on with life.

This being her, back at work without protection (Boone was on her now as she did her Computer Raiders gig). Getting her apartment back in order. All so she could set the new course of her life that didn’t only include the addition of him.

The good news about that was, this meant she had to continue to stay at his pad.

But that was all the good news to be had.

“Mag,” Hawk called his attention.

He gave it to the man.

“Whatever this means, you should know, her father has been active,” Hawk shared. “He’s all over dropping it in any ear that will listen that his daughter has dick to do with this. He’s sharing wide it’s the brother’s fuckup, and Evan needs to be left alone.”

“Yeah, he’s all over that after his daughter was kidnapped and the drugs he was hoping he’d get his hands on are gone,” Mag returned.

Hawk did a shrug. “Yours to do with what you want. But you should know it so you can decide what to do with it.”

Mag nodded, knowing it fucked with him, but he had to tell her that her dad was trying to look out for her.

He was doing it too late.

But she should know.

“You’re on light duty,” Hawk continued.

“Yeah,” Mag muttered.

“And it’s now clear we’ve thrown down for Evan,” he went on. “Nightingale’s nosing around. Rush has got some of his Chaos boys doin’ rounds, asking a few questions. And none of that would be happening if Evan wasn’t part of the equation. That’s some firepower at her back that isn’t gonna be missed. But that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t be covered. That said, I wanna see you further down the road to recovery before your duty changes. It’s gonna sting, but you are not at one hundred percent, so you gotta take a backseat, look after Evan in ways only you can do, and I’m assigning Jorge and Mo as leads on this.”

That simmer in his gut roiled.

Dr. Baldwin had told him he wanted at least two weeks, better three, with his arm in that sling, and after that, only light use, no exercise, for another week before he got into the nitty-gritty of restrengthening muscle and working his way back to normal range of motion.