For His Protection (16 page)

Brooke sat on the curb a few doors down from Ty’s parents
and tucked her phone into her pocket. Thank fuck there was a phone app for
everything—including calling cabs. Because speaking right now felt about as
inviting as taking a nap underwater. She rested her elbows on her knees and
dropped her head down low, breathing through her nose.

She’d held back tears—her expertise—but there was a very
good chance she might vomit.

“Brooke?” Ty spoke softly behind her.

She lifted her head, willing her lunch to stay down, and
licked her lips. Words locked in her throat.

Ty settled onto the curb beside her. “Was it what Olivia
said about Mrs. Benson?”

Brooke pinched the top of her nose.

“About knowing someone could come back at any moment?”

She shook her head and found her voice. “No.” She glanced at
Ty.

He stared straight ahead, his shoulders rolled forward.

“I should have realized the conversation would be a trigger
for you. I should have—”

Brook put a hand on his shoulder. “No, Ty.” She pulled her
hand away and dropped it to her lap. “It wasn’t just what she said. I stopped
worrying about that a long time ago.” She linked her fingers and stared at the
bitumen. “I used to but not so much anymore.”

She took a long breath and let it all the way out. “In the beginning
all I could think about was that he’d come back and fix his mistake.” She
flicked her thumbnails together. “But then he didn’t come and I got stronger,
and then I started to wish he
would
come. I started to wait, praying
that he would.”

Ty said nothing but she felt him turn, felt his eyes on her.

“I wanted him to come so I could have a chance to defend
myself—to beat him—to win.”

She clenched her teeth. Why was she saying all this? This
wasn’t the conversation she was supposed to be having with him.

“You are winning, Brooke. You’re winning every day you’re
not hiding at home. You’re winning every day you are out there living your
life.”

Living her life?

Brooke laughed dryly. “But I’m not really, am I?”

She turned and met his gaze. The emotion in his expression
nearly unhinged her but she held it together. “I can’t live the life I want at
all.” She swallowed. “I’m never going to be normal, Ty. No matter how great or
amazing or supportive you are, I’m never going to be girlfriend material. This
can’t work.”

“Hey,” he said and cupped the back of her neck. “Don’t tell
me what can’t be done. I don’t do cant and neither do you.”

She wrapped her fingers around his wrist but leaned into his
touch. “I’m always going to be that girl who freaks out over crazy things. I’m
never going to be easy to be with.” Her voice hitched. “I’m never going to fuck
like a normal woman.” She squeezed her fingers around his skin and her chest
heaved. “And I’m never going to be able to have children, Ty.”

“Brooke…” His voice cracked and he pulled her closer.

She pressed her hands against his chest, holding him back.
Tears spilled hot as lava down her cheeks. “Don’t you dare,” she whispered.
“Don’t you dare tell me that it’s okay, that it doesn’t matter.” A sob
screeched through her chest. She fought it down. “Don’t you dare tell me that
the future you deserve, the life you want, doesn’t matter because of me.”

A car rolled toward them. The cab. He tried to hold on to
her but she wiggled out of his grasp and stood. “I won’t do it to you. Because
I love you, Ty. I do really love you but I can’t do this.”

She didn’t look at him, wouldn’t be able to and hold it
together so she just wiped her face and stepped toward the cab. “So if you love
me like you say you do, you’ll stay away from me.”

* * * * *

“Just sign here,” Connor said and handed her a pen.

Brooke stared at the blue ballpoint. “I don’t know if I
deserve this, Connor.”

“Of course you do. A deal’s a deal.” He jiggled the pen.
“Besides…how am I supposed to take my bride on the honeymoon of her dreams if I
don’t have a competent partner to hold down the fort?”

Brooke smiled, the first time she’d done so in days. She’d
been walking around in a storm cloud. Staring at the world through a gray fog.

The one ray of light was being so close to Connor and
Charlize’s happiness.

Ty had given Crowe the security contract for his entire
company. Crowe might be the best but it still felt personal. Still felt like a
gift she hadn’t earned.

She’d been so proficient at every job Connor had ever given
her, yet the one that sealed the deal she hadn’t been on top of.

“Well if you put it like that, obviously I’m the one doing
you
the favor.” She winked then plucked the pen from his fingers, took a deep
breath and signed her name on the contract.

She set the pen down on the table and turned to Connor.

He grinned and held out his hand. “Welcome, partner.”

Brooke took his steady hand, an unexpected mist filming over
her eyes. “Thank you, Connor. Not just for this, for everything…”

His fingers tightened on hers for a moment. He cleared his
throat. “Don’t mention it.”

She smiled and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him
and giving him a quick squeeze.

Connor patted her back and she leaned away.

“I’m proud to have you for a partner and I’m proud of you,
Brooke.”

Brooke’s cheeks warmed.

Connor’s phone buzzed and he dropped her hand. Brooke let
out a breath, taking a moment to save herself from the puddle of girlish emotion
she was about to dissolve into.

Connor looked at her out of the corner of his eye then
walked across the room, lowering his voice.

Her skin prickled.

He hung up his phone and walked back to her.

“What’s going on, Connor?”

“That was Mark. There’s been a break in your case.”

She frowned. “So he called you and not me?”

Connor ran a hand over his head. “He asked me to bring you
to the station.”

“He didn’t think I could take myself?” Her heart
back-flipped.

“I don’t know the details but he didn’t want you coming in
alone.”

“Jesus,” she whispered. Her muscles seemed to empty. For
five years she’d been waiting for something, anything to happen. Now that it had,
part of her screamed at her to run. Run and hide and not have to look whatever
awaited her in its ugly face. But only part of her.

The rest of her was ready. The rest of her said bring it on.

* * * * *

News vans lined the street when they arrived at the station.
Brooke wrapped her jacket tighter around herself and followed Connor around the
crowd. He spoke to an officer stationed at the entrance, who let them inside.

“What the hell happened?” Brooke whispered.

“I’m not sure.” Connor ushered her through the building to
Mark’s office.

Half a dozen uniformed backs faced the them as Connor
knocked on the glass beside the door. Mark glanced at them then dismissed the
officers. The room cleared and Brooke stepped inside.

“Captain.” Connor nodded to a man who’d remained inside with
Mark.

The man nodded his balding head at Connor. “Good to see you,
Crowe.”

“Hi, Brooke.” Mark beamed at her. His face was bright and
light, the lines usually embedded in his brow smoother. “This is my captain,
Donald Murphy.”

Brooke nodded at Captain Murphy then turned back to Mark.

“You got him, didn’t you?”

Mark rounded his desk and stood in front of her. “We did,
Brooke. We really got him.”

Her head spun as if she’d just inhaled from a can of gas.
Mark pulled out a chair and she half-sat, half-fell into it.

“What happens now?” She swallowed. “I suppose you’ll need me
to testify or something?”

“No,” Mark said and knelt in front of her chair. “It’s all
over.”

Brooke blinked. “What do you mean
over
?”

“He’s dead. We found him in his place—” Mark glanced up at
Connor. “The place he takes his victims.” He looked back at Brooke. “He wanted
a fight and he got one.”

“Oh.” Her gaze flicked from Mark’s shining eyes to his captain
and then to Connor, who fought a look somewhere between a cry and a grin, like
a man whose team had just won the Super Bowl.

She waited for those feelings to hit—elation, relief,
triumph—but she felt…
nothing
.

Her insides were numb, hollow. An empty shock took up all
her thinking space.

The captain spoke up. “This must come as quite a surprise to
you.”

Brooke nodded.

Connor rested his hand on her shoulder. “How you doing?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered then looked back at Mark. “I
guess I thought when this day came it’d be different. That I’d have something
to do with catching him or something…”

“How do you think we found him? You, Brooke,” Mark said.
“The information you gave us. Train tracks, the smell you described. We
cross-referenced every railway line with every tannery, sewage processing plant
in the district. We found a warehouse owned by the same company that owns your
apartment building. We found a connection, we found
him
, Brooke, because
of you.”

Connection…

Her head snapped up and her head cleared. “Who is he?”

Her attacker had always been nothing more than
he.
Somehow
not a real person, not one with an identity. Just a monster. A
he
…an
it
.

Captain Murphy stepped forward and handed her a photograph.
“Do you recognize this man?”

Brooke took the photo and scanned it. A man in his
mid-thirties smiled from the picture. A smile that made her belly twist, her
heart stop. Like déjà vu.

She tore her gaze from that smile and looked at the picture
again. A new kind of recognition hit. “I do.”

“You do?” Captain Murphy asked.

“He’s the Realtor who showed me my apartment. My landlord
fired him—I don’t know why—but he took over managing the leases himself.”

“He’s your landlord’s son actually, Ricky Cosh. Remember
anything else about him?” Mark asked.

“Only that his picture creeps me out.” Brooke swallowed. “I
know it’s him but I can’t remember, couldn’t prove it. I’m sorry, guys.”

“Don’t be, Brooke, we have DNA for that. A notorious
serial-killer has been caught because of you. God only knows how many more
lives you’ve saved.”

A wave of feeling rolled over her. No one else would be hurt
by him ever again.

It was over. He was gone.

“We’re about to give a press conference but I wanted you to
hear it first from me,” Mark said.

“Thank you.” Brooke stood and shook Mark’s hand then the
Captain’s.

“Wait around, we’ll be able to tell you more after the
conference,” Captain Murphy said.

Brooke nodded. They pulled on their jackets and left the
room. She looked at Connor.

“You’re free now, Brooke,” he said.

Free
.

Ty’s image flashed in her mind. No. Dead or alive, Ricky
Cosh no longer had any effect on her freedom.

That was all up to her.

Her chest pinched and she gave in. Gave in to the one thing
she hadn’t allowed herself in so long. A proper cry.

An ugly, snorting, hiccupping, noisy cry.

Connor patted her back and Brooke gave in to one more thing…
She leaned on her friend.

Brooke sucked a breath into her tight, aching lungs and
stared into the mirror in the bathroom of the bridal chambers. No…her dress
wasn’t too tight but God knows she’d take a snug bodice over this feeling any
day. Grief, even when you’re used to it, even when you think you have a handle
on it, is a lot like a black hole. Has its own unique gravitational pull,
constantly fighting to suck any who drift too close into its dark, bottomless
bowels.

Not the time for it.

She closed her eyes, taking another painful breath. In about
ten minutes she had to walk out there and watch her only friends get married.
She had to watch them do that whole happily ever after, dreams do come true
stuff, and try somehow not to bawl like the giant baby currently possessing her
body like some sadistic, infantile poltergeist.

Not that she did pity-parties. Nope, no and not a chance.
She was happy for Charlize and Connor. Really really happy. Yet bearing witness
to the kind of joy you were busy mourning because you knew it was something you
would never ever have…that was just taking a nail gun to your heart and seeing
how many holes you could get in that sucker before the sad, sorry organ came
apart.

You’ve been through a lot worse before than a break-up,
Brooke.

She opened her eyes and gave her reflection a hard glare
then pulled out her cherry-red lipstick.
People get broken hearts every day
.
She wound out the tip of the lipstick and pressed it to her bottom lip. She
could deal with losing Ty, just as she’d dealt with everything else.

Except she missed him.

Missed him as her body would miss air or food or water. In a
way that didn’t just hurt—it made functioning normally impossible.

She missed Ty more than she missed her wholesome, pure,
untarnished self. Because she could live with who she’d become since then. But
a head full of memories of what could’ve been might just prove lethal.

The lipstick skated off her lip and streaked across her
skin.

Dammit
.

She ran her thumb around her lip line, wiping away the
smudge, then finished the lipstick and stepped into the bridal chambers.

Charlize stood with her back to the bathroom, curled hands
fidgeting at her sides. The other bridesmaids fussed at her like a prize kitten
about to go on show, fanning the veil and adjusting the train. Brooke picked up
Charlize’s bouquet and went to rescue her from the fluffers who were obviously
making her friend more nervous.

A soft knock sounded at the door and Charlize’s father and
aunt stepped in. Charlize turned and Brooke’s breath hitched.

Her friend glowed. Actually glowed. Brooke had always rolled
her eyes when people talked about women “glowing”. People didn’t glow unless
they were fictional vampires.

But apparently people
could
be so radiant with joy
that it lights them up from the inside out. That’s how Charlize looked—as if
everything inside her flowed to the surface.

Not nerves at all—
excitement
.

“You ready, Cherry?” her father asked.

Charlize nodded then looked at Brooke and held out her hand
for the bouquet. Brooke stepped forward and handed Charlize the flowers. Their
gazes locked and Brooke couldn’t stop herself from pulling her friend into a
hug.

Charlize froze for a moment then wrapped her arms around
Brooke and squeezed tight.

She patted Brooke’s back and drew away. “Enough now or I’ll
ruin my make-up.”

Brooke smiled even though her vision went cloudy. Charlize
drew a deep breath and took her father’s arm. They walked out the doors to the
chapel and into the hum of the bridal march.

* * * * *

Brooke’s make-up didn’t make it an hour. How in the actual
fuck had she become the cliché teary bridesmaid? She sat herself down at the
bridal table and took a long gulp of champagne. God, Charlize’s aunt Beth had
to hand her a handkerchief, for God’s sake. A
handkerchief…
Brooke
fished the champagne bottle out of the chiller box and refilled her glass. They
were going to need more bottles.
Lot’s more
. She’d never cried at a
wedding before. Never been drunk in public either. But hey, tonight was full of
firsts; why stop now?

It had been a beautiful ceremony but seeing her own personal
hero, Connor, go misty eyed, that triggered sentimental waterworks she didn’t
know she had the capacity for.

Looked as if her one good ovary was on overtime pumping
hormones. She set down her glass and flopped back into the chair, watching
Charlize and Connor sway on the dance floor. Her gaze drifted around the room,
settling on a figure coming through the doors.

Everything went into slow motion.

He adjusted the button on his suit. The music wasn’t as deep
but she could feel the bass springing up through the floor just as she could
almost see the purple mask on his face, the memory so clear and sharp in her
mind.

She moistened her tongue on the roof of her mouth.

His gaze locked on her and she rose from the chair.

Why is he here?

Things kicked back into real time, starting with her racing
heart. She’d invited him, hadn’t she?

He came toward her. Her eyes burned.
Goddamn hormones
.
She walked around the outside of the dance floor and slipped out into the
foyer. Footsteps tapped on the tiles behind her.

Her chest squeezed but she turned to face him. Heat rose
from her belly and burned through her. She drank him in. Ty in his suit…so
cruel to put a woman up against that. Just like that first night, he seemed
like a stranger. His expression firm, intense and hooked on her.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Was my invitation rescinded?” he asked as confidently as if
nothing at all had happened between them.

“No, but…” She fought the urge to take one small step and
throw herself against him.

He took the step for her. Close enough to throw his subtle
scent over her like a balm. “When will you learn I never break a promise?”

His eyes darkened and her mind raced. No, he didn’t break a
promise. And the scariest part of that was the way his eyes vowed that they
were far from done. That things were about to get real and heated right here at
the wedding.

“I promised I wouldn’t give up on you, didn’t I, Brooke?”

He had. As if she could forget. As if she could forget what
he’d done to prove it. Her skin went on alert, bumps rising along its surface.
That night seemed sticky-taped to the back of her mind. Her body turned like
some greedy gremlin fed after midnight, now wild, insatiable and out of her
control. And she’d drunk just enough champagne that she could barely remember
why she’d pushed him away in the first place.

Must’ve been crazy.

Her gaze stuck on his face, that mouth, that tongue. Oh yes,
crazy
all right. Her signature move.

“Brooke, if you keep looking at me like that, then there’s
going to be a scene that will make everyone remember this wedding forever.”

That’s right…the wedding.

She wouldn’t make a scene. Be it a fight or display of pure
sexual frenzy, whichever was coming, she had to rein it in.

“Come with me,” she said then crossed the foyer to the
hallway, leading him past the bathrooms to the bridal chambers.

The door clicked shut and Brooke circled the room, putting
as much furniture between them as she could—as though wood or metal, fabric or
foam could actually provide enough of a barrier between them to stop him from
getting to her.

Ty followed, stalked her until she stopped and leaned
against a small table.

Something had switched in him, the part of him that let her
retreat in the past, given her space to wiggle away. Everything about the way
he shifted toward her now told her if she wanted to leave him this time, it
would take a hell of a lot more than a wiggle.

“You shouldn’t have come, Ty.”

His expression tightened but he didn’t stop until he stared
down at her.

“I know you must think I’m heartless but it’s hard for me to
see you.” She stared at his shirt collar. “Being my own fault doesn’t make it
hurt less.”

“Good,” he said and his voice was low and rough.

Her gaze snapped up. “Good? You’re glad it hurts me?”

She stared at him. His eyes were brown lava, burning up with
things she didn’t recognize from him. Oh, he was a stranger.

“So you’ve come to punish me?”

“No but I’m glad it hurts.” His hands went to her shoulders.
“Because it should hurt.”

He tugged her against him. Her body hit his chest and her
pulse went giddy.

“It
should
hurt to lose the one you love.”

She sucked in a breath but didn’t respond.

“I’ve come to tell you I reject your reasoning.” He leaned
down and spoke into her face. “I reject your good intentions. I know that’s all
they are but you can keep them.” Ty’s hand moved from her shoulder, up her neck
to her cheek. “It’s not possible to deny me the future I want by being with
me—you only do that by leaving me.”

Brooke closed her eyes. Ty’s thumb moved near her lips. She
opened her eyes and looked at him. “You deserve someone who won’t flinch when
you walk up behind her…someone who doesn’t need to hold your throat while she
fucks you.” She breathed in deep then let it out. “Someone who can give you
everything
.”

His fingers slid to the back of her neck. “You’re right. I
do want everything, I want everything from you.”

If she hadn’t been so close to tears, she may have laughed.
“I’ve tried, Ty. Fuck how I’ve tried. I just don’t have it in me.”

Ty shook his head. “You haven’t. You’ve tried to figure out
how you can be with me and stay in control, still maintain a safe distance.”

He leaned in.

Her back arched against the table.
Trapped
. She knew
it, trapped between him and the table. Her pulse jumped but that thing in her
chest that screamed
danger
,
danger
had already learned to accept
this man.

“There’s no safe distance from me.” He pressed his lips
against her cheek and his fingers moved against her skin. “And I’m going to
have all of you, just watch.”

Her lungs expanded to take in extra air. Everything in her
seemed to give over to him.

“I’m going to sleep in bed with you,” he whispered. “Then
I’m going to wake you with my cock.”

Her skin prickled, shivers ran up her neck at the idea of
actually spending the night in bed with a man—this man. Of waking and being
taken by him.

“I’m going to flip you over and have you from behind and
every other way a woman can be had.” His voice grew softer yet rougher. “I’m
going to have you on your knees, my cock in your throat.” He dragged the tip of
his nose over her jaw then snapped his teeth at her ear. “I’m going to have you
begging for every-single-thing you think you should be afraid of.”

Brooke groaned, desire bolting through her system. Her
calves ached to buckle, to send her falling to her knees. To make his
suggestions reality.

Ty straightened. Brooke sagged against the table.

“We tried slow. We tried your way. It didn’t work. Tonight
try my way—the deep end.”

Deep end?

Brooke regained her footing.

“Tonight give me
everything. Y
our heart, your body
and your
trust
.” He eyed her levelly. “Tonight let me be the one to
restrain you.”

It took a moment for the visual to hit her with a slam of
arousal.“I’m not sure you understand…”

“You think I don’t understand you because I haven’t been
through what you’ve been through?” His gaze flicked across her eyes. “I know
you, Brooke.”

He closed the gap between them as if he’d only given her the
brief respite of space to drop his bomb on her. “I know how you wet your lips
when you’re excited. I know how you hold your breath when you’re afraid. I know
all the wicked things you’d never say to anyone else.” He gave a half smile. “I
know how you taste. I know how you swear like a dirty little sailor when you
come. I know the way it feels to be inside you. I know how fucking much you
love having me there.”

Brooke’s tongue darted between her lips. She raised her hand
to her mouth, heat spreading over her neck and face.

His smile slipped. “I know you, Brooke, just try to tell me
I don’t.”

She dropped her hand, bombarded by a million thoughts but
captivated by one.

What if?

What if she gave in? What if she let
him
have
her
?
Right here. Any way he wanted. Any way he chose. Any way he gave it to her.

“I know what you’re feeling right now.” Ty reached for her
hips. “You’re feeling
aroused.”
His thumbs dug into her flesh.
“
You
think I don’t know you’re all wet under that pretty dress?”

Brooke’s pussy squeezed tight. Her
wet
, aching pussy.

“You’re wet because you’re thinking about all the ways I’m
going to fuck you. You’re thinking about me fucking you over that pretty little
table behind you or maybe up against the wall?”

She clutched his shirt and held on, heat and desire sweeping
over her so hard the only other alternative was lifting her dress.

“You love the sound of that, don’t you?” Ty whispered. He
drew her face into his neck then grabbed her ass. “You think you’re not
supposed to, but you do.”

He rocked slowly, rolling his hard-on against her pelvis.
She sucked in a breath of Ty-tasting air and bucked her hips against him.

“Baby, you haven’t been afraid of this in a long time.” He
palmed her ass, sliding his fingers deep between the backs of her thighs,
squeezing her sensitive place between his erection and his hands. Delicious
pressure built in her core. “You’re only afraid of letting go.”