Page 22 of Vow to Protect
I raise my brows. “You had no idea she was caught up with that bastard, did you?” Outside the window the hazy sun hides behind a cloud. A shadow creeps across the floor, converging with his shoes. The odd display looks like penitence seeping out from his soles. “Natalie needed a hero in her story—I don’t. All I need is a friend who’ll buy me a one-way ticket out of this city and lend me enough cash to start a new life.” I search his tight expression, hoping to find a sign. “Are you that friend?”
Brett jams his fingers into his hair and cracks his neck. “Let's get one thing straight. I’m helping you because I have my own demons to fight. I won’t tolerate any woman being ruined or scarred by a spineless prick like him. But all these fucking questions about Natalie—I don’t have the answers. I’m not a hero or even a friend. I’ll smuggle you out of Dublin, sort out a new identity for you and give you plenty of money to start over. Then you can go back to being a stranger. Nothing comes between me and my daughter. So, if this goes tits up, you’re on your own.”
His statement hisses through my veins with an unbearable storm of rejection. He’s so stand-offish and blunt. We’ll always be strangers, even if his daughter is my only living relative. “Understood.” I fold my arms, hiding the tremor in my hands. I didn’t ask him to take me in so we could live happily ever after together.
“If you want to stay alive, don't go outside and don’t…” His finger lifts, pointing at me. “Don’t use a phone either.”
“I don’t have a phone, nor have I got anyone to call.” He rotates to the doorway. “Brett. Wait.” With his back poker straight, he halts without looking back at me. “This must be hard for you as well. I get that. I’m her sister, and I'm missing important answers. I promise you I don’t want that man anywhere near Tilly either.”
Fists tighten by his sides, and he stays silent. When his fingers finally uncurl, he continues to march out of the room. I want to call after him. To thank him for saving me. Instead, I freeze. My insides quake, and my head pounds. The aftermath of the drug still churns in my stomach. Dizziness only adds to how terribly powerless I’ve become. A door slams, and I know I’ve missed the opportunity.
To sayI’m angry is an understatement.
That woman makes my blood boil. In fact, it doesn’t just boil, it burns as hot as lava. I slam the apartment door behind me and turn the key. “Questions, so many fucking questions,” I snarl inwardly. “Why didn’t you help my sister?” I mock in a mutter of disbelief. “This must be hard for you.”
Fuck, she doesn’t know the half of it. I stole an unconscious woman from a drug lord who smuggles humans as a hobby, slipped back home and showered while she slept, then argued with myself whether I should leave her alone or watch over her. And what do I get in return—accusations. Not a graceful thank you or an indebted smile.
Despite that, everything about her intrigues me. But what really buzzes through me is knowing she’s locked away and only I have the key. That shouldn’t be such a turn on. It’s a temporary arrangement. I don’t own her. The goal is to free her, not enslave her. Even if the notion to fuck her is shredding my abstinence.
I swore I’d never touch another woman again. My counsellor told me it was inevitable—but not this fucking soon. Carrying her from the compound was harder than I expected. Not because of her weight. Hell, I could bench press her for hours, but her vulnerability nearly broke me. The faint scent of perfume from her wavy sable hair tested my self-control. Feminine full lashes resting on golden cheek bones fluttered with innocence. Something deep inside me whispered ideas of keeping her for myself until the memory of loss obliterated it completely.
There was no rational reason for loitering in the apartment until she woke up, other than feeding my fascination. And she would freak out if she opened her eyes to yet another prison, albeit a safe one.
I’m seething with fire when my phone rings. “Alexander, now is not a good time.” My dick is like stone, and I’m furious about it.
“The documents will be ready in a couple of days—five at the most,” he says cheerily.
I squeeze the phone in my palm. “Fuck sake!” I tasked Alexander with organising a fake passport and travel visa for Raen. “That long? I was hoping to get rid of her quicker than that.”
“I’m good, Brett, but I’m not a fucking magician. Anyway, a couple of Blaine’s men saw Raen being carried out of the compound. They know someone took her hostage, and the search to find out who stole her has started.”
I drag a hand down my tired face. Blaine’s men were destined to swallow stray bullets, not live to report back to Blaine.
“Who was it?”
“Dexter was one of them,” Alexander replies coolly.
A.K.A. Zatruc as he’s known in the fighting world.
“Do we know if he followed?”
“That’s unknown. They occupied him as planned.” Alexander confirms, keeping our conversation simple and discreet.
“Thanks for the heads up, Alex. And you’ve informed the relevant people?” He knows I’m referring to Malakai Fox. The guy might be a member of VC, but he’s a notorious gang leader and ruthless vigilante who will do anything, and I mean anything, to stop human trafficking. The man has given his soul to fight the cause. I’ll never say his name out loud over the phone.
“I have. Sit tight.”
“Thanks,” I say darkly, knowing the mortuary stats will increase overnight.
I serve the VC with my business acumen, whereas Malakai burrows underground like a lawless prairie dog. This whole situation makes my skin crawl. Malakai knows the right people in the wrong places. He has his own crusade to endure. His life is shackled to the scum. Freeing Raen was my choice, and now I’m bollock deep in this mess with the possibility of Blaine’s men tracking her down.
“If you need anything else, call me.” I hear Alexander’s heavy typing.
“I need those documents, yesterday.” I shake my head, recalling Raen’s glossy lengths framing those fascinating bold green eyes. “And a unicorn.”
I pull the phone away from my ear when he laughs. This is one random request to top them all. “I’ll get the order sped up by throwing more cash about, but are we talking about female flowing white locks and colourful glitter in places you want to lick off so much that it gives you the horn?”
This guy is like my kid brother, not an influential high roller. “Alex, you know I love the sound of that.” I play along. “But this time, I’m under immense pressure to track down a real-life unicorn.”
