Page 13 of Shades of You

My gaze landed on the untouched Clive Cussler novel sitting near the door. A prop. That’s all it had been—a good excuse to see Brenna, to step into that cozy little world she’d built. I couldn’t shake her from my thoughts, the image of her when she’d finally smiled flickering through my mind like sunlight on water.

“Guess if it worked once, might as well try it again.”

I gently dislodged the cat from my stomach and pushed to my feet. “Sorry, buddy. Gotta go out for a while.” After emitting a squeak at being disturbed, Pedro tilted his head, regarding me steadily. I rolled my eyes, slipping into my shoes. “Why am I talking to a cat?” Getting no answer, I closed the door behind me with a click.

As I pushedinto Bookstore in Paradise, a wave of coffee and musty paper washed over me. My stomach did that stupid jump like the last time I entered, and I fought to keep my cool. Brenna stood behind the counter, leafing through a book in front of her. When she lifted her head, her expression shifted from concentration to surprise.

“Hey, Brenna,” I managed, though it sounded more like a croak than the smooth greeting I had planned in my head. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, and damn if my heart didn’t skip a beat or two. I quickly scanned the large space, my alert senses telling me no one else was present.

“Hunter!” Her voice was as warm as the sunbeam bathing her. “Back so soon?”

I shrugged and crossed the wooden floor to stop in front of her. “It’s been almost a week. Plus, Clive Cussler writes page-turners, you know?” I refused to feel guilty for my ruse—I would read the book eventually. But right now, a plausible excuse to see her was more important.

“Wrote,” she said with a sad smile. “Though others are carrying on his legacy.”

“You’ve got a great bookstore here. I couldn’t stay away.” I hoped my joke would mask the truth of my words. Then I saw the title of the book before her, written at the top of the worn pages. “Robinson Crusoe,” I said with enthusiasm nowthat I was on firmer ground. “Always one of my favorites. I see you still have good taste in books.”

“Well, it is my job, after all. And I remember that you loved this book.”

When she smiled at me, the air in the room became still. My lungs suddenly forgot how to work as our eyes held. To cover my discomfort, I glanced down at the book, taking in the worn appearance. Other aged books stood in the glass case underneath. “You’ve got a lot of old books down there. Are you still fascinated by first editions?”

“Oh, yes. There’s nothing like leafing through a treasure that’s been around for years. I love to take them out and read them—gently. You can feel the love between the pages. I even have a first edition ofGreat Expectations.” She laughed softly. “Maybe that’s why I quoted Hemingway when you first walked into my shop. An antique store down the street has a first edition ofThe Sun Also RisesI’ve been dying to get my hands on.”

“Too spendy?”

Her smile remained as she shook her head. “The owner won’t sell—the book has sentimental value to him. Maybe I’ll wear him down eventually.”

But her smile faded as she slowly moved her arm toRobinson Crusoe’scover, softly closing the book. The motion was stiff, and she flinched ever so slightly, favoring her left arm.

I stiffened and zeroed in on her pained expression. My gaze dropped to the arm she cradled against her body. The world around me faded at the sight of the angry fingermarks marring the porcelain skin of her forearm. A dark, swollen bruise accompanied them. A rush of protective fury so potent it was like a physical blow quickly enveloped me.

“Whoa, Brenna. What happened there?” I kept myvoice soft and even despite the blood roaring through my body. I reached out slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal that might spook. I took her bruised arm in my hands, touching her softly, mindful not to cause her more pain.

She glanced down at where my fingers held her delicate forearm. Then her eyes darted up to meet mine before looking away. Walls went up behind her gaze, her instinct to guard whatever had caused this. I recognized the reaction, and it made my blood boil.

“Nothing. It was just a silly accident,” she muttered, trying to pull her arm back.

I let go instantly, but I wasn’t buying it. I knew the signs of harm inflicted by another person all too well. Hell, I was an expert at it. As much as I wished I could leave my past behind, this knowledge came with the territory. And right now, my protective instincts were screaming.

“That doesn’t look like nothing, Bren. Talk to me.”

Her eyes flickered with something unreadable for a moment, a silent battle raging within her. I waited, giving her the space to find the words. My jaw clenched in anticipation, ready to defend her, and to do it right this time around.

Brenna’s silence was a thick veil, her eyes darting away as if the answer might be scrawled in invisible ink among the spines of the books that surrounded us. When she finally met my gaze again, her voice was soft and halting. “It was Knox. He just… he wanted to talk. And when I tried to leave, he got upset.”

“That’s twice now he’s laid a hand on you,” I said through gritted teeth. “Where does he live?” The question came out more forceful than I intended, and a flicker of alarm crossed herface.

“Please don’t do anything stupid, Hunter,” she pleaded, worry etching deeper lines into her already troubled expression.

I took a slow breath, fighting to keep the edge from my voice as I straightened and forced my shoulders to relax. “I’m not going to hurt him. I just want to find him and make sure he understands the score.”

“And what is the score?”

“That if he thinks he can hurt you, he’s going to have to come through me.”

Something flickered in her eyes. I’m pretty sure it was relief, and that only made me more determined. “Hey.” My voice softened, reaching for the warmth that had been between us mere moments ago. “We were good friends once. And I can’t—won’t—stand by and watch you get hurt like this. You might not want to hear this, but Knox could be dangerous.”

“I really don’t think he is.”

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