When I hit fresh air, I took in a slow, even breath. I glanced down at myself. Walking around with no shoes on, disheveled clothes, a cat carrier, and a plastic bag full of clothes, I looked crazy. This is what my love of danger gets me. What the hell was I thinking?

My phone wasn’t even on me. I couldn’t call Chelsea and have her pick me up or Rourke. I was stuck. And I couldn’t go home.

Enzo knew where I lived and how to get in.

Glancing around, I made a decision. Rourke’s place wasn’t far. I had been there a few times to watch the game, talk shit about work, and drink too much beer. He’d give me a place to crash if I told him what was going on.

I just had to make it there. Half dressed, freezing, walking on the disgusting New York ground. All of the bad decisions I made as a teenager came flooding back to me. I thought I’d grown up, but apparently, I was wrong. I was still chasing the high, but this time the name of the drug was Enzo Vitale.

* * *

“What?” Rourke asked for the third time.

I rubbed the water out of my hair with a thick towel. Rourke had given me the couch and let me use his shower. Penelope was out roaming and pissed off. I couldn’t even look at him without him yelling at me.

“Caster!”

I jumped. “Sorry.” I plopped down on the couch. “I said I need a place to stay because of Enzo. He knows where I live. He already broke into my house. I can’t go back there.”

“And why the hell is he after you? Did you get caught or something?”

I glanced away. I wanted to stay silent while still protecting a man that I had no idea who he really was. However, I knew the rules. Partners were supposed to tell each other everything. If I kept lying to him, the case was going to bomb, and I would have no one to blame but myself.

“I’ve been living with him.”

Rourke choked on his beer. “What?”

“You’ve gotta stop saying that,” I groaned. “I went after him, things got complicated, and I moved in.”

He frowned. “So, what? You’ve got a thing for a mobster?”

“No,” I spat. “It was a small, stupid fling. That’s it.” My stomach clenched. “It was nothing.”

“You slept with a suspect,” Rourke said. “It’s not nothing. Do you know what this could do to your career?”

“I’m not stupid,” I said evenly. “And I don’t need lectures that I would be hearing if I was at my father’s house right now.”

“Your father did his job,” Rourke snapped. “He was a decorated officer. You’re fucking a mobster. Did you ever think he was right to get on your ass?”

I stared at Rourke, and he stared right back. My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. Fuck my father. Why was Rourke kissing his ass so hard?