Page 11 of Protected By Her Daddy

“She’s on a first dollar program at Clark Community College, studying for an associate degree in business. Father, Lawrence, died in a hit and run when she was six.”

Ed pauses, swallowing hard. I wait patiently, knowing that information is close to home for him.

“Mother, Lori Sanchez, remarried when Wren was ten. No police record, unlike her husband, Gregory Sanchez, who has priors for possession and theft. There was also an allegation of sex with a minor, which was later dropped due to lack of evidence.”

My fists clench at my sides as fury blasts through my bloodstream. “Please tell me it wasn’t Wren.”

“No, the allegation wasn’t from Wren. But that’s not to say…” Ed trails off, his expression grim.

I nod, my jaw clenched so hard I’m surprised I don’t shatter my molars. “Would explain her previous injuries and why she’s on the streets.”

“What are you thinking, Gabe?” Ed asks, knowing me well enough to see the wheels turning in my mind.

I shake my head, confused by my emotions over a woman who was a stranger an hour ago. “That no way is she going back to that life. There’s something about her, Ed. I can’t walk away.”

Ed smiles knowingly, his eyes reflecting a depth of understanding. “The fall is hard and fast for men like us.”

I frown. “The fall?”

“Into love.”

“Jesus, I only met her an hour ago,” I snap.

Ed shrugs. “I knew the second I saw Meg. Two weeks later, I put a ring on her finger.”

“Exception to the rule,” I mutter.

He shrugs. “Maybe. But I know better than anyone how quickly it can all be taken away.”

His words hit home. Not only did he lose his wife, but death hung over us daily when we were on active duty. The precariousness of life has a way of crystalizing what’s important.

“Take Luther and Ethan and check out the house,” I say, naming two of our best men. “Report back to me.”

Ed nods and claps a hand on my shoulder. “Go and see her, brother. I’ll take care of everything else.”

“Thanks, Ed,” I say gratefully.

Walking along the corridor, I enter Wren’s room. And come to a halt. My breath stalls in my lungs. Wren may be pale and injured, but stunning doesn’t begin to cover the vision lying motionless beneath the stark white sheet.

I’m entranced. Dear God, who knew the beauty that existed beneath the street grime?

I can’t stop staring, my eyes roaming greedily over her, desperate to gather every detail. Full lips, high cheekbones, heart-shaped face. Silver-blonde hair ripples over the pillow, and her ivory skin glows under the dim lighting.

I settle into the chair beside her bed, my gaze never straying far from her still form. She’s a decade too young for me and looks so fucking innocent.

You can’t keep her.

The words swirl in my mind. Damned if I don’t want to, though. The desire to make her mine is inexplicable. Would she want that? The kind of relationship I crave?

I rake a hand through my hair. Fuck, I’m getting way ahead of myself. She needs to heal. Then I’ll ensure she’s taken care of financially and send her on her way. It’s for the best.

Liar.

I ignore the treacherous voice in my head and walk to the large glass window overlooking the city. The world moves below—cars, lights, people—all continuing in the never-ending cycle of life.

Wren’s circumstances suggest a past etched with strife. What—or who—drove her to the streets? That fucker, Gregory Sanchez? If he’s the one responsible for hurting her, he’ll pay with his life. Anger and sorrow swirl in my gut. Anger that the world has treated her so cruelly and sorrow for the aching loneliness I saw in her eyes earlier—a loneliness that echoed mine.

A quiet moan breaks my reverie. Turning swiftly, I see Wren stir. Her face twists in discomfort, and a faint whimper escapes her lips, her brows knitting together.

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