His to Protect: A Fireside Novel(10)

My mouth went dry for a moment before I found my voice. “That was nice of you. Thank you.”

He seemed to understand more about my situation than I had told him. Perhaps he had some uncanny sixth sense. Perhaps he was a secret superhero. Whatever it was, it started that strange, warm, fluttering feeling all over again.

I filled my mug and stood in the corner of the kitchen chomping on a piece of bacon. We all ate in a silence. It felt strangely comfortable.

Watching them give each other a hard time while they played videogames last night probably helped. I had enjoyed watching Declan playfully shove Derrick around when the kid beat him, or toss him a high five when he did something great. Declan might be large and muscled and intimidating on his own, but when he was sitting cross-legged on the floor next to the young teen, he radiated excitement and friendliness. Probably why I wasn’t scared, knowing he’d been in my room this morning.

From the short time I’ve known him, he seemed to be a man worthy of trust and honor.

A knock from the front door jolted me out of my thoughts and I looked at Declan.

“Probably my dad,” Derrick said, and grabbed his plate from the table. Just as he was sliding it into the sink, Aidan’s voice bellowed from the front of the house.

“Hello? You losers up yet?”

“In here, Dad!” Derrick tossed me a smile as he headed out of the room. “I’m going to go grab my stuff. Thanks for the games last night, Declan. Nice to meet you, Trina.”

“You too,” I mumbled, my coffee mug pressed against my lips. I watched him go and then watched as Declan rose from his chair.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he said. “You can hang back, but there’s something I’d like to talk to you about once they’re gone.”

Unease swirled in my gut at his tone. Not demanding, but serious.

I watched him leave the room, knowing whatever he had to say was something I wasn’t going to like.





Chapter 6


Declan


Damn, she was pretty. Even thinking it might make me an asshole, but as she sat across from me in the living room, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation we were about to haveone that needed to happenI couldn’t stop thinking about how pretty she looked when she was still half-asleep.

Freckles dotted her nose, making her seem more innocent and naive than I knew she was.

Legs that were every man’s wet dream.

A chest that was just the perfect, small handful, and lips that could make me think only one thinghow good they would feel stretched around my dick.

I scooted forward, unable to tear my eyes away from Trina’s pretty body and her hesitant look. She wasn’t beautiful in a glamorous way, it was more in the sweet, Southern way.

Based on her accent, I assumed that’s where she was from.

I cleared my throat and forced myself to forget my obvious physical attraction.

I had told her the truth. She was safe in my house and I wouldn’t touch her. I had to stop looking at her that way.

“We need to talk,” I said and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees.

Her lips pressed together and she looked away.

I continued, for my safety as well as hers.

“You know I want you here and I want to help, Trina, but there’s a few things I need to know.”

Her eyes fixed on mine and her arms crossed defensively over chest.

“I need to know if you’re in trouble,” I began. “And before you jump up and assure me you can leave, I want you to think about one thing.”

“What?”

“Where are you going to go without any cash? I mean, you can sell your car. It’ll give you a nice safety net, but I’m guessing you don’t want the paper trail that will follow, and then how are you going to get anywhere?”

“You just have this all figured out, don’t you?” She looked away and that niggling feeling that I was being an asshole returned, but there was too much at risk here for me to stop.

“I’ve asked a woman I don’t know, who could be some major scam artist or in huge trouble with the law, into my home. I’m doing this taking the chance that you’re neither of those things, but you have to understand why I need to know, Trina. I would have asked you this last night when we were talking, but Derrick was here and it wasn’t the right time.”

I forced my voice to soften and leaned back in the couch, hoping I was showing her that I wasn’t a threat. I didn’t mean to turn the tables on her, let her think I’d brought her into my home out of the goodness of my heart just to trap her, but I hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true, either.

“I’m not in trouble with the law,” she whispered, and sucked her lip in between her teeth.

“Just running from the man who hurt you?”

She nodded and her chin quivered. I closed my eyes and imagined finding the prick, throttling him with my bare hands, and then beating the shit out of him so he felt more pain than he’d ever inflicted on this woman.

The strength of the protective instinct I was feeling was scary. Even around Mara I’d never felt the overwhelming urge to pummel some asshole for looking at her the wrong way. I had a feeling that the first leering glance some guy gave Trina, he’d have my fist in his face before he could blink the vision of her cute, tight ass out of his thoughts.

“My husband,” she admitted, eyes blinking rapidly. I had figured that out on my own last night. “I left him a week ago.”

“Is he going to come looking for you?”

Another chin quiver, another bite down on her lip as she refused to meet my eyes.

“Not trying to hurt you, Trina. Not trying to push you, either, but I know someone who might be able to help you.”

Her head jerked and our gazes met. “Who?” she drawled, slowly and suspiciously.

“I got a friend, Tyson Blackwell. He lives in town now, but he works for the FBI.”

“No.” She jumped to her feet. “No cops. No law enforcement of any kind.” Shaking her head wildly, she paced toward me and pointed. “I’ll leave. I don’t know what I’ll do without the money, but you have a point. I do need to get rid of my car. I’m not sure how yet, but I’ll figure it out. You’ve been kind, I swear. But this…this isn’t going to work.”

“Woah.” I stood and held my palms out, eyes wide. “I don’t know what just brought that freak-out on, Trina, but are you forgetting some asshole not only broke the law by almost breaking your face, but you’ve also had shit stolen from your hotel? You don’t think those things are connected? I’m just suggesting having Tyson look into it.”

“They’re not connected.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because.” She laughed coldly and sat back down. As I watched her try to get comfortable, I returned to sitting on the couch. “Because I left a note for my husband telling him I went on a spa trip.” Her eyes flickered to mine, but the look I returned showed how confused I was. When she spoke again, her voice was softer…sadder. “It’s what I usually do…well…after…when I can’t be seen in public. He’s not even expecting me home until tomorrow.”

She sucked her lip between her teeth and I knew we both realized she’d said too much.

What in the hell did this guy do, where his wife had to leave town when she was too bruised to be seen in public?

Something important, that’s what.

I didn’t let on that I thought there was anything strange about what she’d said. Instead, I asked, “He hasn’t tried to call?”

“Don’t know.” She shrugged. “I threw my phone out before I crossed the city limits, and I bought one of those pay-as-you-go ones before I left the state, but he hasn’t done that in three years, so I’m not sure why he’d do it this time.”

“What was your plan when you hit the road?”

“Canada,” she whispered after a prolonged silence. “Figured he can’t do anything to me if I leave the country.”

I arched a brow. “But he can if you stay here?”

Her face paled before she sighed. “I’m guessing it’s not lost on you that I come from money,” she stated, almost as if she hated it. I wondered if it was the money she loathed, or her circumstances. Perhaps it was the loss of money that made her lips twist with disgust. “My husband is important and powerful, and has an incredibly wide sphere of influence. He’ll be able to find me wherever I go, which is why I was planning on crossing the border. At least there, his influence is less.”

The demand to know what her prick of a husband did for a living was on the tip of my tongue.

“And you won’t let me ask Tyson even to just check and make sure he’s not looking for you? It could buy you time to stay put and make some money before you head to the tunnel,” I said, referring to the Windsor Tunnel, the way most people got to Toronto from Detroit.

“I think the less people who know, the better.”

“For who?” I demanded, my frustration leaking through in my tone. “For him or you?”

“Both,” she snapped, and stood up.

“You ever hear about the Mafia family, the Galeckis, that were arrested in Detroit this past summer?” Confusion flared in her eyes, but I kept speaking. It was on every news network, national and worldwide, for weeks. There was no way she hadn’t heard. “Tyson was responsible for that. His girlfriend, Blue, is a Galecki, and they datedhave a longtime history between thembut they dated while Tyson worked that case and she never found out until she had to. Tyson can be circumspect, Trina, I promise.”