CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

Ella perched on the edge of the Laughingstock”s stage, legs dangling over the orchestra pit like she was waiting for the matinee to start. The club was a hive of activity now - uniforms tramping through, techs tagging and bagging, EMTs hauling out the single casualty on a rattling gurney.

It was a dance she knew well, the post-case shuffle. Usually she”d be chomping at the bit to get gone, to ditch the circus and find a dark hole to lick her wounds in peace. But today, with Luca warm and solid beside her, the itch under her skin had dulled to a low thrum.

‘Hell of a show,’ Luca said, kicking his heels against the scuffed wood. ‘Dinner and a near-death experience. You sure know how to treat a guy.’

Ella bit the inside of her cheek, tasted blood and the phantom burn of cheap whiskey. ‘Stick with me. I’ll take you on all the best bad rides.’

‘A bad ride? Sounds like a promise.’

There was a heat in Luca”s voice that sent a shiver down Ella”s spine. But before she could examine that little nugget too closely, Harland lumbered over like a block of government-issued concrete.

‘You two look like microwaved shit,’ he grunted by way of greeting. ‘But damn if you didn”t do the job and then some.’

Ella smirked, ignoring the twinge in her split cheek. ‘Careful, chief. That almost sounded like a compliment.’

‘Even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while.’ But there was a grudging respect in the old battle-ax”s beady eyes. ‘Vanzetti”s stable. Probably”ll be sipping drinking through a straw for a while, but he”ll live to sleaze another day.’

‘And Doyle?’ Luca asked.

‘Bellevue”s finest rubber room,’ Harland said with a nod. ‘He”s drooling Thorazine and screaming about spotlights and hecklers. But given everything we”ve got on him, it”ll be a slam-dunk life sentence. If this was ten years ago, he”d be getting the injection.”

‘Couldn”t happen to a nicer guy,’ Ella drawled.

Luca asked, ‘Can we have someone take care of his mom? Poor woman is going to need therapy and then some after this.’

‘Got officers at her place already. Doyle was her caregiver, according to one of my guys. We’re going to move her to a home.’

‘Thank you, chief,’ Ella said. She stuck out a hand, met Harland”s crushing grip without flinching. ‘For everything. The hard work. If you hadn’t have found that murder weapon, we might still be chasing our tails.’

Harland harrumphed, but there was a flicker of something almost like affection in his stony face. ‘You did the rest. If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call me. Both of you.’

Ella and Luca nodded their gratitude, and then Harland was gone, barking orders at a knot of gawking uniforms. Ella watched him go, something unfamiliar swelling behind her ribs. Appreciation, maybe. Or just the post-case crash, making her soft.

‘He grows on you,’ Ella said.

‘Like a fungus.’

Ella huffed a laugh, a real one this time. It felt rusty, unused. When was the last time she”d laughed and meant it? Probably around forty-eight hours ago when Luca had swanned into her life, all shiny loafers and shinier hair.

She cut her eyes at him, trying for casual and missing by a mile. ‘So. On a scale from ”watching paint dry” to ”seasick on a rollercoaster”, how”d we do? Think you can hang in the big leagues?’

Luca shrugged. ‘You tell me. I’m just the rookie. You’re Miss Dark.’

His voice dipped low on her name, a purr she felt in her molars. And oh, that was a mistake. Because suddenly all Ella could think about was him - his mouth, his hands, the solid heat of him pressed against her back as she lined up a shot.

‘Jury”s still out,’ she managed, tongue darting out to wet her lips. ‘But you didn”t completely shit the bed, so. Points for that.’

Slowly, carefully, like he was gentling a wild thing, Luca reached out. Settled one warm palm high on her thigh, fingers flexing just shy of indecent. Ella”s heart turned over in her chest, a sweet, bright ache blooming behind her ribs. This was dangerous, this warmth, this softness kindling in her battered bones. She”d been down this road before, let herself get close, get attached. And it had only ever ended in blood and tears and shattered pieces that couldn”t be put back together again.

But looking at Luca now, at the openness in his face, the gentle strength in his grip...she couldn”t bring herself to care. Couldn”t muster the energy to rebuild the walls, to shove him away and retreat behind her armor of cynicism and self-loathing.

This was a bad idea. Nuclear, even. Ella knew it down to her bones, in the same place she knew bourbon before breakfast and always going for the kill shot.

But she was so tired. Tired of the armor, the distance, the cloak of cynicism, she wrapped around herself like a shroud. And Luca was right there, a balm and a bandage and a bad decision begging to be made.

She wanted to be touched. Wanted to be held, to be seen. Wanted to let herself fall, just for a moment, and trust that someone would be there to catch her.

So when he leaned in, slow and telegraphing his intent like a skywriter spelling it out in big, puffy letters...Ella let him.

Let him cup her jaw in his big, warm hand, let him tilt her face up to meet his. Let him brush his lips against hers, soft and sweet as a first kiss behind the high school bleachers.

She no longer cared how bad of a decision this might be. Not when Luca”s mouth was on hers, not when he tasted like adrenaline and cinnamon gum and something uniquely him. Not when kissing him felt like coming home, like finding a part of herself she hadn”t known was missing.

It felt different. Different from Ben and every other pair of lips she”d tasted in her life. Ben had never really understood her, never got why she did what she did. But Luca seemed to get it. Get her. In a way, no one else had. With him, she didn”t feel like a freak or a liability.

Her nerve endings sang, her blood fizzing in her veins like cheap champagne. She sank into the kiss, let herself get lost in the gentle pressure of Luca”s lips, the rasp of his stubble against her skin.

Eventually, they broke apart, foreheads touching as they shared air in the charged silence. Luca huffed a laugh, one hand coming up to cup Ella”s jaw with a tenderness that made her eyes sting.

‘Wow,’ Ella said. ‘That was...’

‘A terrible idea,’ Luca finished.

”The worst,” Ella agreed, a grin splitting her face. The smart call would be to tap out now, to shove this back in its box and throw away the key. Nip the bud of intimacy before it could take root in the salted earth of her heart.

But something stopped her. Maybe it was the keenness of the lonely wind in her ears, mourning for connection. Maybe it was the phantom warmth of Luca”s lips on hers, the promise of shelter, however brief. Or maybe she was just finally ready to land - to put down roots, however gnarled, in something other than death and brutality.

‘Maybe we need to practice a little more,’ he said.

Ella laughed, the sound rusty but real. She leaned back, putting some much-needed distance between them before she did something really stupid, like jump the guy’s bones right there on the Laughingstock”s sticky stage.

‘Good idea.’

She climbed to her feet, grabbed Luca’s hand and pulled him up. This time, she didn’t let go. She intertwined her fingers into his and led him down from the stage, out into the weak sunlight.

She knew it was temporary. Knew the abyss always called its children home in the end. But here, now, with Luca”s pulse beating hummingbird-quick against her own, it was enough.