The Grifter
Chapter 20

For the first time in eight years, Shawn woke up with a woman in his bed. The irony that it was the same woman who had last spent a full night there wasn’t lost on him, and holy hell, this was going to get complicated.

Especially because they’d spent the night having unbelievably hot s3x, then slept in each other’s arms, and then spent the hour before the sun rose having even more hot s3x…

And now Frankie was looking at him with that wide-open whiskey-brown stare that saw every damned thing he’d ever wanted to hide.

“Morning,” she murmured. “I hope it’s okay that I used your mouthwash and put on some coffee while you were sleeping. I can promise you, I’m a far better human when I’m caffeinated.”

“That makes two of us,” Shawn said, an involuntary smile sneaking over his mouth. Of course, it didn’t last. “But before we get to that, we should probably talk about last night.”

“And this morning?” Frankie gave up a tart smile. Her hair was wild over her shoulders, her face so relaxed in the soft light filtering in around the edges of the blinds that he hated to wreck the moment.

“We’re working a case together, Frankie, and Beck is…”

“Dangerous,” she said, although it was pretty much a euphemism where Beck was concerned. “Believe me, I know.”

Her face grew serious, but she didn’t shy away from the conversation, and Christ, would her openness ever stop flooring him? “Look, I know you might think that I wanted last night because I was rattled,” she said, “and the truth is, being face to face with Beck did throw me a little. I’m not used to doing so much undercover work. The compartmentalizing is just…I don’t know. Different.”

It made sense. Shawn had gone through the same sort of motions when he’d started going undercover. Being immersed in a world where you had to be cozy with the very people you wanted to bust was a bit of a mind f**k, for sure. Compartmentalizing was as essential to a cop’s job safety as Kevlar.

“So, you wanted this as a distraction,” he said slowly, gesturing to the small space between them on his bed. He knew it shouldn’t sting—God knew he’d used s3x for the very same reason from time to time. But somehow, his chest ached at the thought.

“Oh, for the love of…” Frankie rolled her eyes, and wait, was she laughing? “Is that what you think? That I threw myself at you as a distraction?”

Damn it, how was he smiling back? “First of all, the throwing was kind of mutual. Secondly, I don’t know. Did you?”

“No. God, no, you big oaf.” She exhaled, scooting closer to him beneath the covers. “The op last night gave me some unexpected feelings, yes, and I needed to figure out how to deal with them. But I didn’t come back here with you as a Band-Aid, Shawn. I did it because you’re the only thing that calms me down.”

Of all the things she could have said, he might have been expecting that the least. “What?”

“You calm me down,” she repeated. “I can’t explain it, really, but being with you just makes me feel…I don’t know. Steady. Even when everything else around me is chaos.”

Shawn blinked. He knew what he was about to say was dangerous. Somehow, though, that didn’t stop him. “I get that.”

“You do?”

She looked so stunned that he couldn’t help it. He smiled. “I know this may shock you, but I do have emotions.”

Frankie dipped her chin—fair enough—and huffed out a laugh. “I know. You’re just not so wild about actually admitting that.”

“That’s true,” he said. “But when I found out about Isla, I pretty much lost my sh!t, and the only person who made sense to me was you. So, yeah. I guess you calm me down, too.”

Ever honest, Frankie said, “This has the potential to get complicated. Not just because of the case, but you have a lot on your plate right now.”

“I do.” Shawn took a breath. The reality of it tempted him to slam a cover over his feelings, to say he was fine and that he had everything under control. But Frankie had been honest with him every step of the way, even when it had made her vulnerable. The least he could do was return the favor.

“Look, here’s what I know. Being with you makes me feel good, and I think it makes you feel good, too.” He waited until she nodded in agreement before he continued. “Yeah, there’s the case, but we’ve never let anything happening between us get in the way of doing our jobs before.”

“That’s true,” Frankie said slowly. “If anything, you being right there with me last night kept me more focused, not less.”

“We’re a great team. You’re not wrong about me having a lot going on with Isla, but you’ve been here with us all week. I’m not looking for an insta-family, or anything,” he qualified. “God knows I can barely get my head around having Isla alone, and she is my priority right now.”

“As she should be,” Frankie said. “And let’s face it—mom material, I’m not. I’m just not cut out for that.”

Funny, Shawn would’ve sworn the same thing about himself only a few weeks ago, but he shook off the thought. He had to focus on what was in front of him.

For however long he could have her, he wanted that to be Frankie.

“Right now, I have to take things a day at a time. But being with you feels good. It feels right. Trying to deny that seems stupid.”

“We are pretty good together,” she said, and he lifted a brow.

“Just good?” he asked, sliding a hand up to stroke her n!pple through the T-shirt she’d stolen from him at some point in the wee hours of the morning.

She arched into the touch, her sigh making his c0ck instantly hard. “You’re not seriously going to waste what little time we have left before Isla comes home with a vocabulary lesson, are you?”

Shawn gave up a wicked smile as he rolled her onto her back, fully giving in to the moment in front of them. “Not when I have so many better things I could do with my mouth.”

An hour later,he and Frankie were sitting at his kitchen table like perfectly respectable adults. They’d traded quick showers after trading 0rgasms, with her improvising on last night’s outfit by replacing her low-cut top with one of his flannel shirts, knotted at the waist so it didn’t swallow her whole. She’d twisted her hair up into a damp twist on top of her head, and a few tendrils fell loose to frame her face as she cradled a cup of coffee between both hands.

“Ahhhh, yes.” She sipped deeply before eyeing him across the table. “So, there is one thing we haven’t discussed.”

“And that is?”

“What you want to tell—or not tell—Sinclair.”

Well, f**k. “I hadn’t thought about that yet.”

Frankie’s smile lightened the tension that had just tugged at Shawn’s gut. “Well, I suppose I should be glad that you’re not thinking of your sergeant while we’re having s3x. But maybe now that we’re dressed and not giving each other 0rgasms, we should talk about it.”

She was right. Of course, she was. But still, his pulse kicked with unease. “I might not trot my feelings around like a show pony, or anything, but I don’t make a habit out of being dishonest with Sinclair—or anyone else in the unit, for that matter.”

“Good policy,” Frankie said. After a beat, she added, “But?”

Ah, damn it. She knew him too freaking well. “But I know him. If we tell him we’re sleeping together, he’ll get all serious about it.”

She tensed, her lips pressing together just enough to give her away. “Which means he might change the plan with us working this case together.”

“He might,” Shawn admitted, because that was a real possibility. His boss was nothing if not careful with his detectives, sometimes to the point of over-caution.

“Beck just bought in,” Frankie said. “He’ll know something’s up if it’s suddenly not you and me together, especially after how we’ve played it so far. If Sinclair pulls the plug on us working together, this case will collapse.”

Shawn shook his head. “This case isn’t collapsing.” Beck was far too dangerous. They had to get him off the street, and fast. “We’re getting closer to making a bust. All we have to do is set up a deal with enough weight to take him down, and we’re done. You and I were sleeping together for seven months when we were on patrol, and it never once stood in the way of us doing our jobs. That’s not going to change now.”

“No, it’s not.” She reached out, squeezing his forearm with enough pressure to fully snare his attention. “Look, Sinclair is your commanding officer. The reality is, you stand to lose more than I do if we don’t disclose, so if you need to tell him, I’m not going to stand in your way.”

“But?”

The way he so easily echoed her gentle callout from a few minutes ago made her huff out a laugh, lightening the gravity of the conversation. “But if you don’t say anything, then I’m not inclined to disclose, either. Our sleeping together isn’t going to change anything, Shawn. It isn’t going to cloud my judgment. I would never endanger you, or myself, like that.”

“I know,” he said, partly because her honesty was right there in the open and partly because he felt the exact same way. “For now, let’s just keep it to ourselves.”

“Okay.”

A chime sounded off at the intercom, followed by a cheerful greeting from Annette as he buzzed her up, and Shawn’s heart tripped. Although it had only been a week since Isla had come to live with him, he’d missed her yesterday. He made his way to the foyer, waiting for Annette to knock before swinging the door open.

“Hey, kid,” he said, his chest constricting in the strangest way at the sight of Isla standing there, holding Annette’s hand. “How was your night?”

“She did great,” Annette said, stepping inside to hand off Isla’s overnight bag and Mr. Prickles with a smile. “We made buttered noodles for dinner, then went to go look at the Christmas tree they put up in front of the Plaza Hotel.”

Oh, hell. Not having any family, Shawn never really gave much thought to the holidays, but they were only a few weeks away. Of course, Isla would get all excited. “Oh,” he said lamely.

But Frankie swooped in with the save. “Ohhhh, do they still decorate it with all those really twinkly multi-colored lights?”

Isla’s nod was the most enthusiastic Shawn had ever seen it, and he spoke on instinct.

“You know, I think this place could use a tree with really twinkly multi-colored lights.”

Isla’s eyes widened, and even though he’d never had so much as a shred of tinsel in his apartment in his entire damned life, he kept going.

“We’ll have to go pick one out,” he said, “and I’ll tell you a secret. I’ve never picked out a Christmas tree before. But since you seem to be an expert, maybe you could help make sure I don’t mess it up. What do you think? Should we go get a Christmas tree today?”

“Okay.”

The two tiny syllables walloped Shawn directly in the sternum. Frankie let out a tiny gasp, and Annette broke into a smile as she looked at Shawn.

“That’s the first thing I’ve heard her say,” she said before winking at Isla. “It’s nice to hear your voice again, sweetheart. You three have a fun weekend. Shawn, I’ll see you and Isla on Monday.”

Shawn thanked Annette and showed her out. Frankie chatted with Isla—or, more to the point, at her, since Isla had returned to nodding her responses. But Isla climbed up on the couch next to Frankie, settling Mr. Prickles in her lap as she handed Frankie a book about a hippopotamus that refused to take a bath, and even though he knew that the road in front of him was long and windy and probably full of pit vipers, he felt like, for just a second, he might not f**k it all up.