His to Protect: A Fireside Novel(14)

I leaned down and finished zipping the bag, stopping only when his hand covered mine.

“Don’t go,” he said quietly, almost a whisper, but not quite. “Tell me what he said.”

I shook my head and then jerked my chin up when movement behind Declan caught my attention.

“Who are they?” I asked, pulling my hand from Declan’s grasp.

He looked behind him, and my eyes followed his until I was looking at a man in dark-blue jeans and a black T-shirt that almost matched his dark hair. His blue eyes were fixed on me with unspoken and unknown intent, and as I took in the handsome, incredibly muscled man, my gaze went to the woman next to him.

He had one hand in a front pocket, and she slid her hand through the crook of his arm and pressed closer to him.

She was beautiful, with inky-black hair that fell down past her breasts, and wore a simple, light-blue dress that hit her just below the knees, with sleeves that came down just past her elbows. She was elegant and casual, and as I lifted my eyes to hers, she seemed friendly.

Her blue eyes narrowed as her lips spread into a cautious smile.

“Hello. I’m Blue.”

It took only a moment for me to recognize the name, and my gaze snapped to Declan, turning into a scowl before I turned back to the other man.

Tyson Blackwell and Gabriella Galecki.

FBI agent and ex-Mafia princess.

I hadn’t forgotten what Declan said about them. I also remembered the news story being on television for weeks.

“You’re law enforcement,” I said to Tyson.

“Tyson Blackwell,” he said, “I’m with the FBI. And you’re running from an abusive husband.”

He stated it so simply. He knew.

My eyes flicked to Declan’s. “You said you wouldn’t tell him.”

Blood boiled in my veins. As if Boomer could sense my anger, or my fear, he got to his feet and for the first time in my life, backed up against my hips. He let loose a low growl, his eyes directly on Tyson.

I reached out and rested my hand on Boomer’s head, letting him know it was okay.

Of all the times for him to turn into a guard dog.

I almost laughed, but the room was too tense, the air too thick.

“I need to go.” I looked Declan in the eye, letting my feeling of betrayal show in my gaze. I let him see the pain I felt that he’d done this.

I felt no victory when he flinched.

“I think he can help you,” he said, making no apologies. “I wouldn’t have told him if I couldn’t trust him implicitly. And Tyson and Blue were at Fireside tonight when you called.”

“How convenient.”

Declan shook his head and took a small step toward me, but stopped when Boomer let loose another warning growl.

“Don’t do this, Trina. You don’t have to run, not tonight. Let us help you.”

“Why would you do that?”

He shrugged, as if he were uncertain, but when he spoke again, his voice sounded almost sad. Resigned. “I just have to.”

I saw the honesty in his expression, mixed with his own confusion. My heart rate began to slow.

As much as it’d be the best decision to grab my bag and walk out that front door, I hesitated.

This man made me feel safe.

“We’re on your side,” Blue said, stepping in front of Tyson. “Please. I don’t know what you’ve been through, but no woman should be afraid of her husband.” She shook her head and pressed her lips into a frown. “I’m sorry you’re scared, I really am, but we’re only here to listen. Tyson has said he’ll do everything he can to keep you safe.”

Reality pressed down on me, forcing me to face the facts.

If Kevin knew where I was, I only had a small amount of time to find somewhere else to stay. I needed to ditch my car first, and it was too late now on a Saturday to do anything about that.

I also had to get a new phone number.

It’d take me until Monday to get a different car.

I felt my window of opportunity closing with every passing breath, leaving me with no other choice.

“Okay,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

My gaze went to Declan’s and his shoulders sagged with relief.

Pulling in a fortifying breath, I took my hand from Boomer’s head and gave him a soft pat. Then I looked at Tyson. “What do you need to know?”



I held the stem of a wineglass gingerly between my fingertips and stared at the crisp red wine, trying to figure out how to piece together my story. I went from being no one to someone, and hated every second once I got there.

Some people would look at me and think, Poor little rich white girl.

On paper, I had it all.

In my heart, I’d been waiting for the moment when my mom was healthy enough to return to work, so she could take care of herself. Not that we had contact anymore. She was the one who encouraged me to stay with Kevin and for thatfor not being the mother I needed when I needed herI doubted I would ever forgive her.

Memories of my earlier days with Kevin flashed through my mind as I took a small sip of my wine before dragging my tired eyes to Blue.

For some reason, it felt easier to tell my story to her.

Declan was sitting next to me, one arm thrown over the back of the couch, his hips turned toward me. His arm behind me made me feel protected. Safe.

Across from us, Tyson was sitting next to Blue. They leaned forward with anticipation, Tyson’s brow furrowed in concentration, as if he’d remember every word I spoke without needing to write a single one down.

“I was born into a family with a father who became a self-made success in Kentucky,” I began. “His business became so popular that he also became a huge donor to political campaigns. It was at one of these campaign fundraisers that I was introduced to Kevin.”

I paused and pulled in a shaky breath. Behind me, Declan’s hand fell to the back of my neck, and through my hair, draped over my shoulders, his hand squeezed me, encouraging me.

Warming me in ways it shouldn’t.

Not then.

I blinked several times and focused on Blue. With a small smile, she nodded, giving me the courage to continue.

“My husband is Kevin Morgenson. He’s the son of Senator Morgenson.”

At their blank expressions, I almost laughed. Liberal Yankees.

We were only ten hours away, but a far cry from the conservative and Republican South, where the Morgenson name was revered, whispered in awe when any of them, myself included, walked into a business or home.

I hated the name.

“Kevin’s father, Kevin Morgenson Jr., has been a state senator for thirty years. He has held his position longer than any other senator south of the Mason-Dixon line.”

“Shit,” Tyson muttered and his lips twisted to one side. “Which explains why you want to head to Canada.”

I raised a shoulder and dropped it. “Kevin, both of them, but my husband in particular, have a strong influence all over the country. I figured if I could leave the country, then I’d be safer.”

“From what?” Tyson asked and lifted a hand, when a low growling sound emerged from Declan. “I need to ask, man. I know what you’ve told me, but I gotta know the story, too.”

A sudden desire to soothe Declan’s bubbling anger suffused me. I placed a hand on his thigh and squeezed.

It was the first time I’d touched him.

Heat from his strong, firm, and muscled leg seeped into the skin of my fingertips, singeing them. Before I could move my hand away, Declan’s other hand covered mine. He didn’t squeeze it. He pressed his hand into the back of mine as if he wanted to mold my skin to his.

I tried to push down the emotions it brought forth in me, the comfort it caused to boil in my own veins. I dragged my eyes off of our hands and back to the couple across the room.

When I did, another soft smile tugged on Blue’s lips. That time, though, it was because she was staring at our connected hands.

I tensed under Declan’s touch and cleared my throat.

“The first time he hit me it was because I’d gone out for drinks, lost track of time, and hadn’t prepared his dinner on time.”

“Asshole,” Declan muttered, his muscles tensing beneath my hand.

“There were too many to count after that,” I admitted, feeling the familiar shame weighing down my shoulders. I pulled my gaze off of Blue’s sympathetic expression and focused on the glass of wine in my hand. I twirled the delicate stem with my fingers and tried to find the desire to continue.

To them, I was a beaten wife. A woman who knew better, who knew it would continue and stayed anyway. I didn’t even want to know what they thought of me.

I hadn’t had time to consider it further when Declan squeezed the back of my neck again and leaned forward, his lips almost at my ear.

Then he whispered, in the softest, deepest, and most rumbly voice I’d ever heard. “There’s no judgment here, Trina. And you can stop at anytime.”

Trina.

He didn’t even know my name.

“Katrina,” I whispered, forcing myself to turn toward him. Our lips almost brushed and I pulled back, but his hand on my neck stopped me.

A slight hint of a grin twitched at one corner of his lips.

“I hate the name,” I told him.

He leaned forward, pulling me to the side and closer. I fought a shiver when I felt his breath along my jaw before it moved back to my ear. “It’s beautiful.”

Then he let me go, and I was left wondering how I could bottle that ragged, deep, sexy voice so I could pop it open and have him speak to me like that every night before I went to sleep, and remember how he was looking at me right now.