Bailey
ONE WEEK LATER, I padded into the kitchen in search of my pain meds and something that might help me sleep. I found the pill bottle with my Oxy, but couldn’t quite maneuver the childproof cap. “Shit.”
“Bailey?” Brock whispered.
I squeaked in fright and faced him, drawing in a quick breath at the sight of his bare chest. I got less than a second of a glance as he pulled on a T-shirt and obstructed my view, but it was enough to make me want more.
“Sorry, did I wake you?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I was looking over some notes when I heard your door open. Are you in pain?”
I handed him the pill bottle. “A little, but I can’t get this open.”
He smiled and popped the cap, tipping a pill into my hand before closing the bottle again.
I dropped it in my mouth and took a swig of water. “Thanks.”
“You okay?”
I shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t know. I can’t sleep, but I don’t know if it’s because I’m freaked or in pain…or maybe both.”
Brock crossed his arms over his chest and studied me. “You know nothing’s going to happen to you, right?”
I bit my lip. “Not really, no. I mean, I know you’re a highly skilled badass and all, but that doesn’t mean when these people are caught, and the trial is over that they can’t get to me some other way.”
“I’m not gonna let anyone touch you again.”
“I know you believe that, but what happens if it takes forever to find them? I mean, you didn’t sign up to watch me indefinitely. Plus, am I going to be stuck inside all the time? I might go a little crazy if that’s the case, and you might go crazy babysitting me twenty-four, seven.”
Brock chuckled. “Take a breath, Bailey.”
“These are the things that go through my mind at one in the morning when I can’t sleep.”
He smiled. “Well, why don’t we talk, then?”
“But…” I cocked my head. “You’re a guy.”
“Glad you noticed.”
“What I mean by that, is that you are a man and, in my experience, limited though it might be, men don’t typically like to talk.”
“I’ve got three sisters, Bailey, which means I learned pretty quickly that women sometimes need to process verbally. If they don’t, all hell will break loose.”
I bit my lip. “You have three sisters?”
He nodded. “Two older, one younger.”
“Are you the only boy?”
“Yep.”
“Wow.”
“Sure. We can go with ‘wow,’” he said with a shrug. “I had a love/hate thing going with the fact I was the only boy, mostly because, since I have a natural tendency to protect, I got in a few fights defending their honor, but now they have families of their own and I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“Hence the nieces.”
“Exactly. Three of them.”
“Wow.” I followed him to the sofa and sat facing him, my back against the armrest and my legs crossed in front of me. “I always wanted an older brother.”
“Just a brother?”
“Yes. I hated being an only child, but I also knew that if I’d had a sister, there would be competition. Ali’s the first woman I’ve met who doesn’t manipulate. Again, I’m not the expert, but there’s nothing worse than trusting someone and finding out they had it in for you all along.”
“Did that happen a lot?”
I shook my head. “No. Once. But I learned from it. I’m really picky. My mom says I’ll never find a man with my long list of demands.” I blushed, having said too much. “Ignore me. Oxy makes my lips loose apparently.”
Brock chuckled. “Your secrets are safe with me, Bailey. You can say anything…no judgment and I’ll never repeat it.”
“I appreciate that.” I frowned. “Any word on the kids?”
“Yes. Our guy was able to get the pictures off your phone.”
“Seriously?”
He nodded. “That was really smart thinking, Bailey. It gets us closer, faster.”
“I’m glad.”
“So, what other kinds of things do you think about in the middle of the night?”
“I don’t know.” I sipped my water. “Questions like, what are your parents like?”
“The deep questions, huh?” He grinned. “Ah, Mom and Dad are still together. Thirty-eight years of marriage later.”
“Well, that’s awesome.”
“Yeah, it is. Mostly because they still really love each other. Mom’s a teacher, Dad’s an accountant. Middle class all the way. But, man, they adore life.”
“I wonder what that looks like,” I mused.
“Are yours divorced?”
“No, but they should be,” I admitted.
“How so?”
“They’re miserable. Mom drinks a lot…and I mean, a lot. Dad’s at the club more nights than he is home. I get it, though. I love my dad. He and I are really close, but my mom, well, she’s part of the reason I live…ah, lived, with Ali. I needed to get out of Vermont, not just to experience somewhere other than the rich, white, east coast, but to get away from her.”
“I’m sorry, Bailey.”
I shook my head. “Don’t be sorry. I’m smart enough to know that that’s my hang up. Here, no one knows me as anything other than Bailey Harper, English Lit major. I don’t tell them my dad’s a retired senator and for the most part, they don’t ask. Dad married himself a younger woman. Mom’s twenty years his junior, and she most definitely married for money…and he has scads of it.”
“Scads, huh?”
I giggled. “Oh, my God, Brock. Scads. Seriously, even my mother couldn’t spend it and she makes it her life’s mission to buy whatever the hell she wants. They both come from old money and quite frankly, it disgusts me. They pay for my apartment, which is huge, and they pay for my education, which is even bigger, and I try not to take any of that for granted, but if I have to hear one more time that they were going to marry me off to Josiah Warren, I will scream. I want to work for a living. My mother finds that thought disgusting.”
“Josiah Warren?”
“Yeah, of the Warrens of South Hampton,” I said channeling a snooty mock-British accent.
“Oh, forgive me. I didn’t realize,” he retorted with a chuckle.
“Which is why I live here. No one knows, or cares, who the hell the Warrens of South Hampton are. You have no idea how awesome that is.”
“Must be tough, being rich and all.”
I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Rich little girl with mommy issues,” he grumbled.
“Well, that deescalated quickly,” I whispered.
God! Why the hell did I tell him all of that?
No one knew my life story here, not even Ali. I bit back tears and rose to my feet. “I’m really sorry, Brock. I shouldn’t have dumped all of that on you.” I turned on my heel and started towards my room.
Brock was up and standing in front of me faster than I could have imagined, especially, because I didn’t hear him move. He grasped my arms. “Bailey, I’m sorry. That was a total dick move.”
I stared at my feet. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Hey,” he said, and lifted my chin. “Seriously. I’m sorry. I guess I just didn’t expect you to be so grounded.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
His head dropped back, and he stared at the ceiling before looking at me again. “I know about your family.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, babe, I do. We did a full background check on you.”
“So then, what was all that bullshit about me telling you everything and there’d be no judgment?” I challenged. “Sounds to me like you’ve already made your mind up about me, and I don’t really like what you’ve decided.” I pulled out of his grasp. “And quit calling me ‘babe.’”
I escaped to the bedroom, shaking with anger. Why wouldn’t I learn? God, I was so gullible. A gorgeous man asks me about all of my secrets and I spill them because he seems sincere.
Idiot.
Flopping onto the bed, I grabbed my Kindle and focused on the screen, trying to forget the sexy FBI agent just down the hall.
* * *
Brock
I made my way back to the living room and settled in for a long night. Bailey was a complication and a distraction I hadn’t expected. I was an FBI agent attracted to my charge. Not good. Not good at all. I had to shut it down. But I couldn’t get her off my mind and she was worming her way into my soul.
My cell phone buzzed, and I saw Dallas’s name pop up. “Hey, Dal.”
“Hey. You okay?”
“Yeah. All’s quiet here.”
“Quiet out here, too. I’ll see you in a minute.” Dallas was on street watch, but truth be told, not a lot happened in the sleepy little neighborhood after eleven.
“Okay.”
I hung up and Dallas entered the safe house, using our code knock. Even so, I had my gun at the ready. Dallas dropped his bag on one of the chairs and I holstered my gun. “You wanna sleep first?” Dallas asked.
“Nah, I’m good. Go ahead.”
Dallas nodded. “’Night.”
“’Night, brother.”
Dallas headed into the bedroom and I found a baseball game on some sports channel. I lasted about an hour until my focus was pulled from the television to the hallway. As if I wished her into being, Bailey walked out of the mouth of the hallway and made her way to the kitchen. I was drawn to her ample rear end as she moved.
I’d always been a T&A guy, and Bailey didn’t disappoint on either. She wore a tight pair of yoga pants and a black, lacy camisole that hid enough, but still made me want to peel it off her. She grabbed a bottled water and walked back toward her room.
“Hey,” I said. “Still can’t sleep?”
She shook her head.
“Are you in pain?”
“No. Just wired.”
“Wanna watch the game with me?”
Bailey wrinkled her nose. “Baseball? Um, no, I’ll pass.”
“Might put you to sleep.”
“I’m just going to go read,” she said.
“You sure?”
She frowned. “Brock. We are not friends. You are my jailor, for all intents and purposes, so if you don’t mind, I’m gonna pass on watching a stupid baseball game with you tonight…or ever.”
She strutted her adorable little ass back down the hallway and I focused back on the television. Goddammit, I’d fucked up. Royally.