CHAPTER 5
BURKE
Istare out at the ocean as the first rays of morning light glint dazzlingly off the ocean.
I’m standing in a doorway, at the rear of my house.
Everything happened so quickly last night that I didn’t really think it through.
Any of it. Shoving a gun in Cole’s face, pistol-whipping him, bringing Brynn back to my place…
I just saw she was in danger and acted without regard for the consequences.
Without much thought. And now she’s here, in my guest room, and I have no idea what the fuck I’m going to do about it. Or her.
On the plus side, what I saw last night—what I interrupted last night—pretty much confirms for me that Cole Dosset is indeed in the business of trafficking women.
Why else would he have ambushed, drugged and tried to abduct Brynn?
I still have no concrete proof—Curtis is going to need more than my account of what happened, but knowing for sure that he is a monster is a good start.
But more than anything, I’m just glad I got there in time to save her.
“Hello?” Breathy, slight, indistinct. searching.
Brynn’s voice is accompanied by shuffling footsteps.
A frown stretches across my lips, knowing I’m going to have to figure out how to explain the situation to her.
She steps into the living room and is startled when she spots me.
Belatedly, she stares down at herself and sees that she’s wearing nothing more than one of my t-shirts.
It’s big enough that it nearly hangs to her knees, making her look almost childlike.
Her hair is mussed from sleep, and her cheeks are flushed, bruised, swollen.
Her silver-blue eyes widen, and her mouth falls open.
“Wh—what… how…”
Her voice tapers off, and she gives herself a shake, as if to clear her head.
No doubt the lingering effects of whatever Cole had injected her with were making her mind fuzzy.
I take a sip of my coffee and try to tamp down the torrent of lustful thoughts raging through my head.
Standing there in nothing but my t-shirt, she looks sexier than I’ve ever seen her.
And all I want to do is pick her up, carry her back to bed, and fuck her senseless.
If I could somehow slip away and take a cold shower, I would. But she’s staring at me, completely perplexed, her lips trembling and her eyes shimmering with tears.
“I remember,” she says quietly. “Last night… you… had a gun. You…”
“He was going to take you,” I say. “Cole Dosset apparently traffics young, beautiful girls.”
“Traffics… girls?”
She looks unsteady on her feet as she absorbs my words, so I cross the room and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.
She’s soft and warm and when I breathe in, I can smell her shampoo.
It’s something citrusy and sweet. My blood grows hot and rushes down to my crotch, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek—hard—to keep from getting a hard-on standing in front of her.
Clearing my throat, I guide her out of the living room and into the kitchen, where I deposit her on one of the stools, then move around the center island, keeping it between us.
It’s mostly to avoid her feeling threatened.
But it’s partly to keep her from seeing the front of my jeans bulging as my cock grows inconveniently stiff.
But watching her sitting there, so small and fragile, I want to comfort her.
I also want to throw her down on the island and bury my face between her legs and taste her sweet juices.
Which is why I plant my feet and stand firm on my side of the island, silently telling myself not to fucking move from this spot.
The last thing she needs is a man twice her age coming on to her.
Especially not after what she went through last night.
“Coffee?” I ask.
She cocks her head and stares at me for a moment, her expression puzzled, like I just asked her a question in Greek or Chinese. But then she gives herself a shake.
“Um. No. Sorry,” she says. “I actually don’t really like coffee.”
“You work in a coffee shop.”
“Doesn’t mean I like to drink it.”
“Fair enough.”
“Do you have any juice?”
“I do. Orange okay?”
“That would be great,” she says. “Thank you.”
I grab a glass from the cupboard, then walk to the refrigerator and pour her a glass of orange juice. She drinks it all, so I refill the glass and then set the pitcher down.
“Thank you,” she says.
“Of course. Are you hungry?”
She pauses as if taking mental stock of herself, then nods. “I am. Very,” she says as if surprised. “But I really want to know what happened last night and how you came to be where you were at just the right time.”
I take a drink of my coffee, staring into her eyes over the rim of my mug.
“Honestly, being there at the right time was just dumb luck. I’d like to say otherwise, but it wouldn’t be true,” I tell her.
“As for how, I knew he had asked you out and you agreed to go, even though it didn’t look like you really wanted to. ”
“I didn’t.”
“Why’d you agree?”
“I… is that really any of your business?”
“No. Just curious.”
She stares down at herself again, and her face pales. “I’m wearing nothing but a t-shirt I assume is yours and a pair of panties.”
“Yes.”
“Meaning you took off my clothes.”
“I did,” I say with a nod. “I wanted you to be comfortable.”
“I don’t even know your name. I mean, I think I do, but—”
“It’s Burke. Burke Wagner,” I tell her.” Burke, with an ‘e’. And rest assured, I didn’t do anything to you other than put you in a t-shirt and put you to bed.”
Her face flushes, and she lowers her gaze. “I… I know that,” she says.
“That’s a relief”, I puff out a tense breath.
“Black coffee guys aren’t the type to take liberties with an unconscious girl.”
Our eyes meet, and I feel an electric jolt shoot through my body.
My skin tingles and my heart races like I stuck a fork in a goddamn light socket.
She licks her lips, and I’m transfixed by the sight of her soft, pink tongue, imagining her sliding it over parts of my anatomy that are currently harder than my marble countertop.
But then she looks away, and the bubble between us pops.
“So, what happened?” she asks.
I fill her in on what I saw when I arrived on the scene. Then what I did. She listens to the brief story, her eyes wide, her expression shocked. And when I’m done, she shakes her head.
“If not for you… I don’t know what would have happened to me,” she says.
“You’d have been trafficked,” I tell her. “Sold to the highest bidder. Then sold again when he tired of you, and so on.”
A crooked grin crosses her lips. “That was rhetorical. I was just trying to say that I’m grateful. And that you saved my life.”
“Oh. Well… you’re welcome. I’m just glad I was there in time.”
She sways in her seat a bit and shakes her head. “I’m really tired. I still feel… groggy.”
“It’s probably the effects of whatever he injected you with.”
“Yeah. Probably.”
“I think I should go home.”
“Absolutely not, He tried for you once, do you want to give him the chance to make another play for you?”
“After what you did last night— he wouldn’t dare— would he?”
“He’ll only be more determined,” I cut her off.
“I’ve dealt with guys like this before. Trust me.
He isn’t going to give up. He probably already has an order for you.
We’re talking big money here and very powerful players.
International. You wouldn’t believe how this world works, and who’s involved.
But that’s basically how these pieces of shit work, Brynn.
He has to deliver— or he becomes the next victim.
Plus, you’re also a loose end he needs to tie up, so to speak. ”
“I can’t stay here.”
“You can. And you will,” I tell her. “At least until I can figure out what we’re going to do about this guy.”
Her eyes shimmer with tears, though I can’t tell if it’s from fear or gratitude. I soften my expression.
“I’ll take you by your place later on,” I tell her. “We’ll get what you need but until we can deal with Cole, I would feel better if you let me keep an eye on you.”
Finally, the corners of her mouth curl upward. “Thank you, Burke.”
“You’re welcome,” I respond. “Now, go take a shower or get some more rest. I’ll work on our problem while you do.”
She gives me a nod and shuffles out of the kitchen, and as she goes, my eyes trace the curves of her body, the heat within me growing, my cock stiffer than iron. I tear my eyes away and shake my head, reminding myself that I can’t have her.
But Jesus fucking Christ, do I want her.