Page 20 of Vow to Protect
My heart foolishly doubles up on beats when the sonorous rumble booms in the silence. I’m not here for him.
Darkness.
Flashlights.
Floating.
“Where are we?” I repeat, glancing behind him at the room I’ve woken up in. There are bland white walls, with no artwork, a pale rug and barely any furniture except for the bed I’m lying in and the plum velvet armchair he sits in.
I scoot to the corner of the mattress, unsure what to do next. His stare is unsettling. The soles of his shoes hit the floorboards with an echoed bang, making me jumpy. In a few strides, he’s close enough to hurt me. I freeze, adrenaline pumping its liquid fuel through my poisoned veins. Denim jeans fit him well, so perfectly that I note the outline of his manhood resting behind the zipper and quickly drop my gaze to my hands.
“Best not to stand yet. You’ll be woozy from the sedative.” I stare up at the slight crease on his brow.
“Why was I given a sedative?” I drank a sour liquid; that much I recall. At that point in time, I wasn’t sure if it was lethal or a way to make me unconsciously compliant for Blaine. “Is that why my brain hurts?” I say thickly, rubbing my temples.
One arm crosses his broad chest and lays in the crook of his elbow. His other hand guards his lips, shielding secrets. “There was a skirmish between rival gangs. I pulled you from a trafficking compound. You’re lucky to be alive.”
“I don’t understand.” I meet his serious expression, as moody as a moonless night sky. “Why were you there? Are you one of them?” Holy shit, what have I done? I’ve asked a human trafficker to help me, and now I’m at his mercy.
Perfect lips tighten, and he eyes my chest, bursting with quick pants. “You don’t need to understand. Trust me. You’re safe.”
“Am I?” I say breathlessly, wishing the tingles numbing my palms weren’t so debilitating. “Do you expect something in return?”
“No.” His eyebrows pinch. “I don’t want anything from you.”
“What about Blaine? Does he have any idea where I am?” I clutch my belly as a surge of nausea rolls inside my gut, crashing without warning. I don’t give a fuck about that man, but I have to find out if my mark still holds a threat.
“He doesn’t know who took you or where you’re hiding out. We’re working to get you out of Dublin as soon as possible.” Brett steps closer like he wants to comfort me, yet the hand at his chin curls into a fist. “Don’t worry about him, Raen. He has no idea what really happened. I stole you from the compound during a gang fight. That's it.” His broad shoulders lift. “I arranged food for you.” Brett noticeably changes the subject, nodding over at the window where a small table is set for one. On top of the tablecloth are pastries and croissants, preserves, and a fresh fruit salad. A waft of strong coffee reaches me. “What do you prefer to eat?”
“A coffee, please.” The sickly feeling in my stomach will only worsen if I dump food on top.
He saunters to the table, lifts a brass cylindrical pot and pours steamy coffee into a mug. I take a deep breath, wondering how the hell he can look so dominant when he’s only pouring a drink. My palm floats to the fabric, directly above the tender scar tissue. “How long are we talking?” I ask in a murmur. “Before I leave Dublin?”
His eyes cut to my hand as if he see’s what burns beneath it. The raised scar flares with shame and ownership. My hatred for Blaine intensifies. I’ll always have the memories. The visible scar warns everyone and anyone who finds it. I’m marked. Damaged. Trapped beneath it.
Brett wraps a croissant in a napkin and carries a fine china cup across the room. “I have a few documents to arrange before you can leave the country.” He offers me the cup and sets the pastry on the crumpled sheet. “For now, do what I tell you.” His mouth curves to an affable grin. I quickly lower my lashes, breaking away from his handsome smile and settling on the buttons of his shirt, close to his belt. When I realise I’m staring at his belt buckle, a quick shameful heat creeps over my cheeks.
“And what are you telling me to do?” My lips barely touch the rim of the cup before he replies.
“This is your home for the next week. No one knows you’re here.” My brow arches. “You’re not allowed to leave this apartment until I say so.”
“Are you sure no one knows?” My lungs become weightless with relief, then I wonder if I’ll get to see him every day and if he’ll bring Tilly. “How did you know where to find me?”
“I followed you to the compound and waited for the right time. It was good luck that a few gang members opened fire.” His lips tilt to a satisfied smile, as if that should pacify my curiosity. Something doesn’t add up.
“You just walked inside and carried me out?”
He looks right at me. My skin flushes beneath the thick jersey when he smirks. “A firefighter’s lift to be precise.”
I sip the coffee. It tastes rich and bold, like they grew the coffee beans for the soul purpose of pleasing me. Of course they’re amazing. From his self-assured swagger to his Irish accent depicting aristocratic wealth, Brett De Courcy is the essence of authority. I can see why my sister was so enamoured by him.
Brett slides a hand into his pocket and turns away. Designer brogues strike the floorboards with a loud clatter until he stops, welcoming silence back into the bedroom. “Stay indoors. I’ll swing by later with dinner.” He scoops up a hooded jacket from the arm of the chair and shrugs it on with one fluid movement. “If you step a foot outside, they’ll find you, and then you don’t have a hope in hell of getting out of Dublin alive.”
I eye him carefully. He’s so stately, so distant. I’m usually fiercely independent. Perfectly content in my space, except this isn’t my territory. None of this is normal. For years I’ve depended on myself to get by. Now, I have to have faith in a glorious stranger who could lock me away from the world and do whatever he wants to me. I was naïve to think he’d hand me cash and drop me at the ferry terminal.
“Are you locking me in?” Traces of light float past my vision when I turn my head, so I don’t get up when he reaches the bedroom door. “All day?”
His eyes fall to my crossed legs. “You’re a big girl, Raen. You don't need me to tell you that the bad man will kill you. I’m not a monster like him. I won’t keep you here against your will. You asked for my help, so hang out here and let me do that.”
