Page 6 of Vow to Protect
“If you don’t help me, no one will.” As quickly as the words tumble out of my mouth, a horn honks and a passing couple laugh.
Their jovial interaction spooks me to run. I dart into the middle of the road, ducking for cover by a parked car on the opposite side of the street. Tears burn a fiery trail down my cheeks. I have no choice.
My time is up.
The last resort for a sanctuary has vanished.
I’m not a hero.Far from it.
It’s not my duty to save a woman who may or may not be Natalie’s sister. Why should I believe her? There’s no family resemblance, or hint of similarity. In fact, I’d go as far as saying Raen’s the polar opposite and clearly more cunning. Those vivid green eyes of hers darkened to unforgiving when I tested her story. That particular shade wasn’t any old hue of green, it was deeper and intense like a depth of familiarity, or evergreen shoots of fresh growth. If she wants to stake her claim as my daughter's relative, then she can arrange a sibling’s DNA test.
I wonder if I’m flipping under the surface again when I imagine Raen’s fingers gliding beneath my shirt. The idea doesn't repel me. It confuses me, and worst of all, it turns me on. Betrayal gnarls in the pit of my stomach. Every muscle flexes and burns. I'm not ready to experience those emotions again, not yet, not with a liar. A compulsion to endure something other than lust flares inside me.
What I truly crave is the sharp thrust of pain, to ward off insidious fascination. The hellion in my head beckons me to have a dram of whiskey, to run scared.
I’m attracted to another woman. And not only attracted—utterly perplexed.
If it’s not a cash reward she’s after, then why did she track me down to ask for protection? Perhaps Natalie really had a sister, and if that’s a fact, then she could be dead.
Fuck!
Raen came out of nowhere. A stunning mystery with a distressing story and zero evidence to back it up. What was I supposed to do? Welcome her into my home with open arms? Put my daughter at risk?
My hackles rise.
I’m coiled like a viper. Intrigued and unsettled. She’s tipped the scales with her plea for help and a hint of desperation.
I’ll earn punishment in the ring, long before I let another drop of alcohol touch my lips, and before I overthink this. I haven't fucked a woman in what feels like forever. Not a single touch, kiss or reward for my dick, except my hand and old fantasies of Syrah.
My mind buzzes. I can’t trust her, not when Tilly is involved. The next thing I know, she’ll demand rights to see my baby girl. I bet the two women danced in the same club and swapped sad life stories over a few lines of cocaine. She's bound to be a flighty schemer.
Unfortunately, I don’t have a contact number, or address for Natalie, which means I’ll have to ask for help to track her down.
During the few days Natalie showed up to spend time with Tilly, I offered her the use of my town car. She would act evasive and jumpy, declining the offer every time. It was her choice to walk home, as it was her decision to keep leaving.
It doesn’t matter that Raen’s face haunted the silent night, causing me to toss and turn with guilt flogging my back, because the small child playing with her dog in my sitting room this morning is my only priority.
There’s no way in hell I’ll jeopardise her safety. Yet the battle around my heart thrusts hard punches back and forth. What if she’s telling the truth after all?
It’s either a trap, or the appeal for my help is genuine. When we locked eyes, I witnessed raw unsettled emotions searching for an anchor. Perhaps she’s as lost as I am. MaybeI amher only hope.
There’s that fucking useless word hope again. It’s not a possession, not a tangible virtue, and not worth my time.
“Tilly,” I call out when Gretchen lets herself in through the front door with a bulging shopping bag. “Let me take that for you.” I lean in to grab the handles.
“No, no. It’s okay, I’ve got it.” Gretchen shoos away my hand. “Don’t be fooled by my five-foot nothing height.” She giggles. “I can carry a few bags of groceries.”
I smile down at her. “You’re one in a million. We’d be lost without you.” The compliment swallows her body in heat all the way up to her eyes. “Tilly. Come and give your old man a kiss. I’m going out now, since Gretch is home.”
Sweet Gretchen pushes thick frames up the bridge of her freckled nose. “Will I make dinner tonight, Mr. De Courcy?”
Tilly’s nanny, come culinary miracle worker, is a pleasant enough woman to look at, with rusty-coloured hair and fine knitwear. Thankfully, I find her more of a godsend than physically attractive. Not only does she care for my daughter like a big sister, she also makes the most amazing Irish Stew and dumplings.
“As exceptional as your dumplings are, Gretch.” I wink. “I promised Tilly a Hawaiian pizza tonight. There will be enough for all three of us.”
Gretchen smiles and fiddles with the buttons on her cardigan. Tiny footsteps slap the wooden floor, closely followed by the patter of dog nails.
“Hiya, Gretten.” I smirk at how Tilly attempts to say Gretchen's name.
