Noting the pain he was clearly in made it easy. “Pace,” she murmured softly.

He turned away, carefully lowering his right arm. She couldn’t see his face, but she heard his low breath of pain, which shot straight to her heart.

“How bad?”

Not answering, he strode to the duffel bag open on his bed and pulled out a foil pack. Ripping it open with his teeth, he poured what looked like at least five different pills into his hand and then tossed them into his mouth, dry swallowing them whole. “Better call the DEA,” he said when he noted her watching him.

“Those were just vitamins, right?”

Without answering, he turned and headed straight for the minibar, grabbing a small bottle of vodka.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting some good old-fashioned pain relief.” He tipped his head back and drank it down.

“You shouldn’t mix pain meds and alcohol.”

“Jesus.” He set the now-empty glass bottle on the nightstand, grabbed another, downed it, too, then strode to the door, which he whipped open.

A not-too-subtle invitation to leave.

Well, it wasn’t the first time she’d irritated a man beyond repair, that was for certain. And if she was being honest, she could admit that maybe, just maybe, she’d pushed his buttons to see how easily he’d cut their tenuous relationship.

Pretty darn easily, apparently.

She moved toward the door, then stopped only a breath away from his tall, built, hurting body. Lifting her head, she looked into his eyes, searching for the truth, or a flicker of regret, some knowledge that he was sorry it had come to this.

Nothing.

“You can be pissed at me all you want for asking about drugs,” she said. “But why would Red so easily offer you some if you never use them?”

He stared down into her eyes and then at her mouth. And then the next thing she knew, he’d slipped his good arm around her back and tugged her up until her toes were dangling off the floor. His eyes were sleepy and at half-mast as he licked his lower lip, then kissed her—a deep, wet, hot kiss that came out of nowhere and stole her breath, her reasoning, and more than half of her brain cells.

She heard her purse hit the floor. One of her shoes joined it. He groaned into her mouth as her arms entwined around his neck, ripping a shockingly needy little sigh of pleasure from her as she gave him everything she had.

Until he pulled back.

Her eyes slowly opened as he let her slide down his body so that her feet were back on the floor.

“Sometimes,” he said, his voice hoarse, “Sometimes, Holly, people do crazy odd things in the name of caring and love. Things they normally wouldn’t do. Things that might look wrong in a black-and-white world. But see, in this world, my world, not everything is black-and-white.”