Page 52 of Honk if You Love Real Men (Tempting SEALs 1)

She unsealed it, her brow furrowing because there was a picture inside.

John’s picture, she realized, her pulse skittering off. And it wasn’t just any picture; it was a mug shot.

“Oh my gosh,” she gasped.

“Bree?”

The envelope fell. Bree turned.

Trent smiled down at her.

“Hi,” he said softly.

Bree held up the picture she still clutched. “Did you send me this?”

He nodded, running his hand through his hair. “I thought you’d like to know.”

“How?”

Obviously, she didn’t need to clarify what she meant by the question because he said, “I did some calling around, spoke to a friend of mine who does private security for the very wealthy. He gave me a name—a woman’s name, one who’s made it her mission in life to put sex offenders away.”

Holy shit.

He nodded. “She’s good, Bree. She went poking around in his past, got some other women to come forward. The guy is scum, Bree. Once the DA realized that, he went ahead and indicted him.

“Thank God,” she breathed.

“Glad you’re happy, Bree, because the DA is taking a second look at the charges you filed. If he’s convicted on all counts, he’s going to go away for a long, long time.”

Her hands had started to shake, Bree’s mind trying to absorb the fact that it was done. John was now behind bars. All the pain, all the anger was still there—but tempered by her realization that he was going to be made to pay.

Trent stepped forward, his hand cupping the right side of her face. “I told you I’d take care of him.”

“You did.”

“I’m a man of my word, Bree. You should know that by now.”

“Yeah, but I never thought . . .”

“Anything is possible if you know the right people and have the right amount of money.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

He smiled. “You could invite me inside.”

Bree didn’t hesitate as she stepped aside.

Trent wanted to take her into his arms. God, he’d missed her. Incredible how often he’d had to fight the urge to hop on a plane and find her. But he hadn’t been able to do that, not until he took care of her ex for her.

He walked into her modest-sized apartment, thinking she looked gorgeous in a black turtleneck, the color nearly the same as her hair. Blue eyes were wide as he walked past her and looked around the bright, airy rooms. It seemed like an apartment Bree would own—the old Bree—with its floral prints and light yellow walls. He stopped near her kitchen, fresh cut daisies on a small side table reminding him that they were her favorite flower.

“Bree,” he started to say.

“No,” she said, interrupting him. “Let me start.” She was quiet for a moment and Trent watched the play of emotions across her face—gratitude, happiness, regret.

“Thank you,” she finally said, looking him square in the eyes. “Thank you,” she said again. “You’ve given me so much, a shoulder to cry on,” she smiled a bit, “a body to use. And now this.” She came forward, reached up on tiptoe and kissed him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said.

---