A Chip and a Chair (Seven of Spades, #5)(3)

Carlos joined them, his eyes glistening, turning it into a three-way hug. Levi retreated further, uncomfortable with the display of emotion, and he could tell Adriana felt the same way.

He threw a punch at her face.

She had her hands down, not ready for it, and she reacted exactly the way a Krav Maga practitioner at her early level should-she leaned back out of the range of his strike even as her hands came up, one to redirect his fist and the other to protect her face. Her foot lashed out, stopping just short of what would have been a solid kick to the groin, and then she disengaged.

“Nice.” Pride warmed Levi’s chest. “Just passed your P1 test, and you’ve already got some of your P2 curriculum down.”

She grinned, turned in profile, and sent a side kick toward his knee. He swept her leg aside with one arm.

They played around like that, trading light blows back and forth, until Carlos and Jasmine were ready to go. As everyone said their goodbyes by the front door, Levi hugged Adriana gently, mindful of her need to not feel restrained. “See you at the rehearsal dinner.”

She surprised him by kissing his cheek, something she’d never done before. “See ya.” She gave Dominic a stiffer smile-she still wasn’t comfortable around him. “Bye, Dominic.”

The door closed behind them, leaving Levi and Dominic alone in their new apartment for the first time. Well, except for Rebel, who was still sulking in the bedroom.

The apartment was quiet, the vibe strangely awkward. Levi looked at Dominic, struck by the reality of the situation: this was their home now. They would go to bed together tonight, wake up together tomorrow morning, and after they went about their respective days, they’d return here, to their shared haven from the outside world. And that would happen every single day for the foreseeable future.

Dominic was the first to break the silence. “This is weird, right?”

“Yes,” Levi said, relieved he wasn’t alone. “But I don’t know why. We’ve already been living together for more than a month.”

“Not really. You were crashing at my place; now we live together in our place. It’s not the same.”

He was right. And for Levi, it wasn’t even the same as the two years he’d lived with Stanton, because this carried a sense of permanency he’d never felt before. Dominic was his bashert, his soulmate, his partner fated by God. This . . . this was it. The beginning of the rest of his life.

Dominic rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you think we rushed into this?”

“No.” Levi closed the distance between them, settling his hands on Dominic’s waist. “It was the right decision for us. That doesn’t mean there won’t be an adjustment period.”

He tilted his face up, and Dominic answered his unspoken request, kissing him deep and slow. Levi melted into it with a sigh, sliding his hands up Dominic’s chest-and then broke the kiss when Dominic flinched.

“I knew it,” he said. “You’re injured.”

“I’m not-”

Levi tapped the left side of Dominic’s chest, right where he judged the injury to be. Dominic grimaced, cursed, and stumbled backward, his shoulders hunching in an instinctive pain response before he straightened himself out.

“You said you wouldn’t lie to me anymore, Dominic.” Fear was bitter in the back of Levi’s throat. He didn’t know how a chest injury could be connected to gambling, but they’d been apart all morning. If Dominic had relapsed and was lying about it again, hiding it again, after he’d promised he wouldn’t-

“I’m not lying!” Dominic raised both hands. “It’s nothing bad, I swear. I just . . . it was supposed to be a surprise.”

Giving him the side-eye, Levi said, “You wanted to surprise your homicide-detective-boyfriend whose paranoia is at an all-time high after being stalked by a serial killer for a year?”

“. . .Yes?”

Levi snorted and gestured for Dominic to proceed, curious despite himself. Dominic stripped off his T-shirt.

There was a fresh tattoo on Dominic’s left pectoral muscle, right over his heart-two lines of simple black Hebrew script. It was still raw, dotted with blood, and covered with a clear bandage. Levi’s mouth fell open, but no sound came out.

“Jasmine did it this morning,” Dominic said. “It was the only open slot in her schedule. Can you read it?”

Levi brushed his fingertips just below the tattoo. He’d forgotten most of the Hebrew he’d learned decades ago for his bar mitzvah, of course, but he would have recognized this quote anywhere because it was so iconic.

“‘Ani l’dodi v’dodi li,’“ he murmured. “‘I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.’ Song of Songs 6:3.”

“One of Jasmine’s foster brothers is a cantor now. He wrote it down for us so we could be sure it was right.”

Levi’s throat was so swollen with emotion he wasn’t sure he could speak. He coughed, swallowed hard, and managed, “You understand the irony in getting a tattoo to honor your Jewish boyfriend, right?”

Dominic laughed. “Oh, please. Plenty of Jews have tattoos these days. I crossed paths with the IDF a few times while I was with the Rangers, and lots of those guys are tatted up six ways from Sunday.”

Smiling, Levi studied the tattoo a few seconds longer. He leaned forward and very carefully grazed his lips against the bandage. Dominic shivered, exhaling one shuddering breath.