He glances at the house, where Trace awaits our return.
“Why are you telling me this?” I shift uncomfortably.
“The ends to which we’ve gone…” He swipes a hand down his face. “We’ve shared you, fought each other for you, broken laws to keep you. We’re both so eaten up in love with you there isn’t anything we won’t do.”
He says we as if they’ve worked out some kind of truce, but I’m not buying it.
“Will you let me go?” I ask. “Right now?”
“No.” He releases a slow breath. “Trace and I will be making the decisions going forward. But there’s only one decision that really matters, and it’s in your hands. Whatever you decide determines the rest of our lives. So let me ask you…” He cocks his head. “Who do you think has the most control here?”
A knot swells in my throat. “I do.”
“You got it.”
“What do you mean you’ll be making the decisions going forward?” I rise from the bench, heart pounding.
Why am I getting worked up? It’s not like I’ll be sticking around long enough to be pulled into their plans.
Cole smirks and thrusts his chin in the direction of the house. “Come on.”
Without waiting, he walks down the dock, headed toward the shore.
“I’m not staying.” I trail after him, holding the blanket around my shoulders.
“Okay.” With a wolfish grin, he opens the gate and holds it for me as I pass.
“I mean it. Cole. I’ll listen to what you have to say. Then I’m leaving.”
“Not without your punishment.”
“You’re not spanking me.” I walk beside him on the bridge that leads to the house, quickening my gait to match his long-legged strides.
“Do you prefer a different punishment?” He regards me out of the corner of his eye. “Hot wax? A ball-gag and blindfold? Orgasm denial?”
“Where the hell did that come from?” I squint at him. “Are you into those things?”
“I’m into anything that involves you naked and willing.”
My legs tremble, and I gulp down a breath. I’m not in the right mindset for this conversation, especially not with Trace’s silhouette looming on the terrace up ahead.
He stands about thirty feet away, beneath a wrought-iron lamppost, wearing a black overcoat and an intense expression. His bearing is so striking and soul-shakingly commanding I lose my footing and trip over the stone steps to the patio.
Cole catches my arm and casts an irritated glare at Trace.
“How long have you owned this place?” I ease away from Cole’s grip and concentrate on walking in the stiletto boots.
“Eight years.”
He owned it the entire time I’ve known him and never mentioned it. My shoulders crumple as a fresh wave of hurt crashes through me.
“It was a safe house, Danni.” He rests a hand on my arm, stopping me a few steps from Trace. “I let people in my profession stay here to recharge and regroup. I couldn’t bring you here or tell you about it and risk you running into someone or something I couldn’t explain.” His gaze sweeps over the sprawling estate. “It has an armory, control room, office, workshop—”
“The locked doors.”
“Yes. They’ll remained locked, unless it becomes a sticking point for you. Just remember I’m retired from that life, and so is this property.”
“I don’t care about the rooms, but I’m curious…” I glance from Cole to Trace. “Did you guys spend time here together?”
“Yes.” Trace opens the back door and motions for me to enter the house. “We used to stay here between missions. Before we knew you.”
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in their history together. The friendship they once had is so nebulous and mysterious. They don’t have pictures together. They don’t talk about it. I’ve only ever seen them at war with each other. It’s hard to imagine what they were like as best friends.
We enter the house, and Cole veers toward the kitchen. Trace guides me to an overstuffed leather chair, with a firm hand on my lower back.
Fireplaces dominate both ends of the living room, crackling with the savory aroma of hickory. The driftwood-gray cathedral ceiling and monochromatic decor blurs the distinction between indoors and out, bringing the primary focus to the wall of windows between the hearths.
The view of the lake, illuminated by the moonlight, is so captivating I don’t realize I stopped walking until Trace clears his throat.
“Take a seat.” He removes the blanket from my shoulders and pats the back of the chair. Then he slides off his coat and sits on the couch across from me.