As Trey held Brittany in his arms, her sobs tore through him. Her cries were wrenched from a place somewhere deep inside her where she’d stored away all her shame, anger and pain. He rocked her back and forth, as one would a small child, resting his cheek on the top of her head. He stroked her back, his hands tangling in her hair. He hurt for her and it didn’t escape him that her determination to bury whatever had happened to her was so embedded in her, she wouldn’t say the name of her attacker even when she thought he was the man who’d hurt her.
If only he knew who’d assaulted her. He might’ve let lust overrule his common sense and moral decency but he held onto his control by sheer willpower. He wanted vengeance.
He’d suspected what she’d been through but he did have it bad for her. She and Karl were right; Trey had an incredible disregard for the women in his life. His personal demons had caused him to choose to remain a bachelor, only picking women who wanted a physical relationship.
If Sylvia’s reaction at finding Brittany there was any indication of how shallow his relationships were, then he’d succeeded. Sylvia had been more amused than hurt or upset.
What did that say about him?
The one woman who should’ve been off limits to him was the one he’d do anything for. Give his life, if it came down to it.
If he hadn’t wanted to appease Brittany—no, if he hadn’t wanted to make love to her with every fiber of his being—he’d have remained in the living room when Sylvia left.
Brittany had been angry though, and he’d felt so guilty. This, combined with the knowledge of her jealousy and the proprietorial claim she’d staked on him, had weakened his resolve. His reaction was insane. One of Trey’s biggest turn-offs was a jealous, territorial woman.
But Brittany’s softness had become his final undoing. And it seemed as if his response was the undoing of her as well.
“Tell me who did this to you.” Trey didn’t care about his badge, his ethics or his honor. He wanted blood.
“He hurt me so much,” she sobbed against his chest. “H-he forced me to my knees and then he forced himself inside of me. He hurt me.”
“Who?” he repeated, keeping the menace he felt out of his voice.
For long, long minutes she trembled and cried in his arms. He thought she wouldn’t answer.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said hoarsely, not an answer at all.
She pulled away from him, her eyes filled with pain. Swiping her tears with her hands, she blinked, her dark hair framing her heart-shaped face. Her creamy brown skin contrasted with her white tank top and blue underwear. Her thighs were firm and slender, her legs sleek and slim. Her arms were well-toned and—
She backed away from him and Trey cursed. He was studying her as if she were an edible piece of candy.
“Who?” he asked again.
“It’s not important.”
“Yes it is.”
“I’m sorry about the way I freaked just now.” Emotionless, she didn’t respond to the demand in his words, frowning at the neon green nail polish on her toes. “I want you. I wouldn’t trust anyone else but you. I-I just didn’t know you wanted…the way you were pushing me down…it was the same thing—” She shrugged, bit down on her lip and shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
Trey dropped into the chair, holding his head in his hands, desire, despair and disgust churning in him. The woman who’d been assaulted was Brittany, not a stranger who he responded to as an officer of the law. How could he help her when he desired her so much? How could he desire her when he despaired of what she’d been through?
“You did nothing wrong, sweetheart.” Reaching out, he pulled her to him, just as he had in the heat of the moment, and took her face between his hands. “I should never have touched you.”
Her shoulders drooped and bewilderment sharpened her hurt.
“Not because I don’t want you,” he said fiercely. “You’re driving me insane. But I only have right now to offer you. Nothing more. And I knew something had happened to you. I should’ve had more sense.”
“That’s why you were asking me about my first time.” She leaned her forehead against his. “Do you believe I would tell you who…who hurt me when you’ve sworn to kill him?”
“I was stretching things.” he lied, clasping his fingers with her own. “But I could see justice done.”
“Yeah, Trey’s justice.”
He smiled at her dry tone. “This happened when you were sixteen, didn’t it?”
“Yes.”
She swallowed hard. So…he’d guessed correctly. He only regretted he hadn’t realized what had happened back then.
She’d avoided everyone for weeks. When they’d run into her one evening, she’d looked terrified and had soon excused herself. If only he’d known then what he knew now. But he’d been twenty-three and just graduated from the academy. He doubted he’d even gotten his first assignment yet. “What happened?”
She shook her head and another tremble passed through her.
“Tell me,” he encouraged. “If you don’t want to say who, that’s your prerogative.” He’d get it from her somehow. “But you can’t keep this bottled inside you.”
“I can’t tell you. I just can’t.” Her voice wobbled, her lower lip trembling. “I caused it to happen. I don’t need to tell you what happened so you can reaffirm that.”
He needed to remember his training as a police officer. He couldn’t rant and rave and kick something. He had to reason with her so she could understand she’d been the victim, not the cause.
“Listen to me,” he said in his authoritative, police officer tone. “A sexual assault is never the victim’s fault. Do you understand me? I’m not here to judge you. I’m here to listen to you.”
For long moments, Brittany stared at him. Then, in a flat, dead voice, she described the viciousness and the brutality of her attack. Impotent rage seethed in Trey, building into a swift hatred toward a man whose identity he hadn’t yet discovered.
“He said so many dirty things to me.”
“Such as?” Her words fanned the flames of his fury and he tightened his jaw.
She stiffened and tried to pull out of his arms but Trey tightened his hold on her and kissed her before he thought to stop himself.
Her eyes misted and her lips trembled. “It doesn’t matter.”
“No, indeed it doesn’t. That he said them to you matters most.”
She nodded, searching his face as if she wanted to assure herself she didn’t disgust him.
“What happened after he left?” he asked, managing a reasonable calmness. Listening to the tale of the pain she’d suffered for the next two days, the stitches she’d needed, her fear of pregnancy for weeks after, left a bitter taste in Trey’s mouth. Of all the times she’d needed him, he’d failed her when it had mattered most. Reflecting back, he’d been looking for ways to break their bond, shaken by Karl’s observations. He’d seen her sudden dismissal as manna from heaven. But her story left him speechless.
Cursing at the aroma of burning chicken, he stood, his body flush against her barely dressed one. He ignored the scent of her desire, the sight of her nipples beading against her top. Her pink, bow-shaped lips parted.
Forcing himself to overlook her invitation, he hurried around her and turned the dial for the oven to the off position then found a kitchen towel. Once he’d removed the chicken from the oven, he stared at it. Another five minutes and the bird would’ve started to smoke, soon filling the oven and the apartment. As it was, the poultry was a charred, ruined mess.
He passed a hand over his face, glad she’d lined the pan with tin foil. After some prying, he had the chicken-filled foil out of the pan and in the trash container next to the counter.
“I have to get ready for work.” Her story, the inedible chicken, burned away his anger, leaving him weary and heart sore. The girl who had loved light and laughter had taken to sleeping in dark closet. She hadn’t been able to turn to her mother. She’d had no one, choosing not to confide in either him or Bryson. Maybe she would’ve identified her attacker if Trey had discovered what had taken place in the day or two after it had happened. “We have to find something to eat, Brit.”
“I’m not hungry.”
He wasn’t either but sometimes the department received so many calls, he didn’t get a chance to eat.
“Bryson is going to be gone all night again too?”
The brown flecks in her eyes blended with the yellows and oranges, a glistening pool affecting him to no end. “Yes, Bryson will, but don’t worry—”
“I know. I’ll be safe here. No one can hurt me.”
He believed she would be safe in the apartment, but convincing her would be next to impossible. Besides, he too felt the need to keep her close to him. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate if she were alone in the apartment. Not after what he’d learned. “True, Brittany. But I meant you’re coming with me.”
She raised her head and a faint thread of hope shimmered in her eyes.
“I can’t take you on patrol with me,” he said gruffly. “My lieutenant will let you stay in his office.”
“His?”
“He spends no more than an hour a night in that office. Besides, he’s a friend of mine. He can be a little rough around the edges and can use more foul language in one sentence than I can in a day’s conversation, but I trust him with my life. He’d never hurt you.”
“Because he’s a friend of yours?”
“There’s that. But he’s also a good and decent man. His knowing me is just concrete proof he’d protect you with his life. No one I know would ever do to you what that monster did.”
Something strange passed over her face but she picked up her forgotten overalls and fled the kitchen, leaving him to wonder just what in hell he’d said to make her react so strangely.
The final key to this puzzle begged an answer to a very disturbing question. Had someone he knew dared to touch his Brittany?