Page 49 of His to Protect

Chapter 11

Declan

“This better be good,” I grumbled into my cellphone. I’d just been woken up by my obnoxious ringtone, and my voice was scratchy and dry.

Tyson’s chuckle vibrating in my ear made me perk my ass right up.

“What is it?”

“You are in deep shit,” he said, the laughter evaporating with a breath.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I swung my legs over the side of the bed and jumped to my feet.

Not even forty-eight hours ago, Tyson left my house after promising he’d do what he could to look into Kevin MorgensonIII.Damn, what kind of narcissistic prick actually had numbers after his name?

Arrogant name aside, I hadn’t been expecting Tyson to call me about him this early on Monday—just hours after I’d finally fallen asleep.

And I was more than pissed that he’d just interrupted the dream I was having of Trina. Her thighs straddling mine, her head thrown back in pleasure as I sank into her from beneath her. Her nails digging into my chest. Her hips rocking against mine. The curve of her back when I took her from behind. The brief kiss we shared last night had unleashed deeply buried desires I’d been harboring, but hadn’t let myself admit.

When I finally fell asleep, they rushed through me with hurricane-force winds.

Hell, I even had to take a cold shower before finally climbing into my bed. My dick had hardened at the sight of her sprawled on her stomach on her bed. The soft little noises she made when she was totally passed out made it impossible not to think of sex and fucking. Touching her to move her under the sheets almost snapped my self-control.

“I called in some favors first thing yesterday, and my contacts have filled me in on a wealth of information about your precious Trina’s husband.”

I sneered at the word.

He was no husband.

I rubbed my hand over my head, feeling the prickle of hair that needed to be shaved, and clasped the back of my neck. “And?”

“And the guy’s a fucking piece of work is what. But all the bullshit he’s pulled and then gotten hidden by state police over the years isn’t why I’m calling.”

I pressed my tongue against my teeth to keep from snapping at my friend. Patience was never my strong suit.

“Listen,” he said, quieting his voice. “I gotta ask before I tell you this. You sure this is the woman you want to throw down for?”

“What the fuck do you mean by that, Blackwell?” I growled. Hell. I didn’t know if it pissed me off that he had the guts to ask me that, or if I was pissed that I’d thought the same exact damn question after hearing about her husband.

Trina didn’t come with baggage.

She came with a convoy of troubles, and probably issues I hadn’t yet discovered.

Unwrapping her, getting her to a good place—a safe and emotionally healthy place—could take a long time.

But that fucking kiss.

That kiss last night itself was enough to make me know what I wanted.

“Morgenson’s in the wind.”

All my breath whooshed out of my chest in one large exhale. “What the fuck?”

“Yep. Asshole’s gone. No one has seen or heard from him in a week.”

Fuck.

“Which means he’s looking,” I said, knowing that’s where Tyson’s train of thought was headed.

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