THIRTY-NINE
brOGAN STEPPED FROM the elevator into his apartment. The first thing he saw was Julius and Tripp standing at the rail of the upper floor, panting dogs. As the alpha panting dog, he got it, he fucking got it.
Going upstairs, Jenna not far behind, he waited to see which of them would ask.
“Where is she?” Tripp Breckenridge for the win. “You were supposed to bring her back. What went wrong?”
“Change of plan,” he said, crossing the living room.
“Were you with her?” Julius asked. “Does she have a plan? What do we need to do?”
“No plan,” he admitted, taking off his jacket and tossing it on the couch.
“Why not?” Julius asked, overcome with judgment when his attention dropped.
What got—ah, Gia’s panties hung out of his jacket pocket.
“I guess we know why not,” Tripp said, slapping him between the shoulder blades.
Julius wasn’t as understanding. “That? This was the one chance you had to make a plan and you gave that up for a few minutes of fun?”
Their intimacy was no one else’s business.
“The point is, I saw her,” Brogan said. “She’s safe. We know where she is and they’re not subjecting her to conversion therapy. She loves me and knows what I want.”
“Was that in doubt?”
Brogan slumped on the couch and let his hand slide into his jacket pocket, fingering the lace of her underwear. Odd that it consoled him, but it did. Having something that had been so close to her meant something. What the hell was wrong with him?
At the gala, when he’d turned around to find her gone, instinct drove him to follow. And he wasn’t adept at ignoring his gut. He wanted to go straight after her, even if he had to clear the whole damn place; he didn’t want to let her go.
He’d kicked himself for letting her walk away so easily at Gault’s and promised himself that he wouldn’t be parted from her again.
Failed on that score. Another fuck up to add to the list.
“Did you give her the phone?” Julius asked. Jenna held it up to be greeted by a groan. Julius’s hand went to his forehead. “What did we accomplish tonight?”
The lack of progress frustrated Julius. He got that.
And yet… Brogan was energized. He’d been with his woman tonight, they’d been together, and she wasn’t trying to sell him any lies about her feelings.
She was his; it was up to him to fix this fracture.
Something stood between them and, if nothing else, he was a guy who didn’t stand for obstacles.
“Gia still belongs to us and we’ve got to finish what she started,” he said. “Elton went to pick Shanna up. Jenna, you gave her a call? She’s waiting?”
“Yes, sir,” she said.
Brogan pushed off the couch to head for the bar. “We’re waiting for confirmation?”
“Of wheels down?” Tripp said. “Yeah. Elton will swing by here to pick me up after he has Shanna.”
Suddenly, someone coughed on an exaggerated throat clear. Who the hell would be—Roxanna Kyst.
“See how things go to shit when I leave the continent?” Roxie said, landing an arched brow on Tripp. “You should’ve called me sooner, boy.”
“Rox Out can’t resist a caper.”
“No, I cannot, but caper time is over,” Roxie said, raising her fist to a cocked hip. “Time for the grand finale. And, boy, do I know how to put on a show. Spurn, are you ready to fix it?”
“Fix—”
“No half-assed secret meetings,” Roxie said. “Brogan Spurn, do you love that girl?”
“Yes, I love her.”
“If you don’t love her and you’re not sure—”
“I love her.”
Who the fuck did this woman think she was to doubt him? And how the hell did she get in?
Roxie inhaled deep. “Okay, love confirmed, let’s go get her.”
“The Sears—”
“Oh, ye of little faith, Mr. Easily Defeated. I swear my man should teach a class to all you fools.” From the semi-veiled insult, Roxie’s smile grew grand and blinding. “When something stands in your way and you need to hurry things along, there’s only one course of action.”
“What are you—”
“My husband leads by example.” Roxie raised a defiant arm. “When forever is taking too long to arrive…” They waited, anticipating… The arm fell and that smile became devious. “Call the press.” She spun on the spot. “Your army awaits, White Knight! Time to storm the tower!”