“How did a big, overgrown goon like Donovan get a gorgeous little slip of a thing like you for a sister?”
Lieutenant Mitchell Thomas’ hazel eyes were alert and sharp, the gaze of a man who missed very little. Still he had a friendliness about him that called to her as much as the laugh lines imprinted in his ruddy complexion. His nose was a bit too large for him to be considered handsome but he was good looking with a mane of luxuriant brown-black hair some women would envy.
The hard edge of his firm lips sabotaged the friendliness of his eyes. And ever since Trey introduced her to the lieutenant and left for the night’s briefing, the man had been running his mouth non-stop.
Lieutenant Thomas had a second-floor, glass-fronted office with rows of cubicles just beyond. Although he was Trey’s friend, her nerves prickled with him so near. Her raw and topsy-turvy emotions made her discomfort acute.
Trey had done her a great service by not leaving her alone in the apartment but his misconception no one he knew would assault her might’ve been laughable if it wasn’t so pathetic. Trey believed the men he surrounded himself with were honorable enough not to force themselves on a woman. But she was out of touch with effectively communicating to him and she was also afraid to trust her own instincts. It embarrassed her that she couldn’t think of a single reply to the lieutenant’s gentle teasing.
He cleared his throat and looked up from the file cabinet. He was cleanly turned out in a white Oxford shirt and tan trousers, his gun strapped to his side. His wedding band gleamed bright too, in perfect accord with his military-like neatness.
“I didn’t mean any harm about Bryson, Miss Donovan,” he said as she stared at him like a complete dud. Striding to his desk, he threw a file down and sat. He leaned forward and clasped his hands in front of him. “We aren’t above razzing each other. Sometimes, there’s even an odd prank or two around here, you know?”
Her head was beginning to pound and she frowned, shifting in her seat, still unable to think of a single response. Her mind strayed to Trey. Her hysteria had set in at the worst possible moment, and overwhelming sadness combed away even her embarrassment. She doubted Trey would ever come near her again, wondered if she’d ever feel normal again. She’d gone from not feeling anything to admitting to Trey she’d been assaulted and breaking down in soul-bearing sobs.
But no, she’d never stopped feeling. She’d pretended to be emotionless and immune. Her fears, hopes, and desires had still lurked right below the surface of her consciousness, circling on the fringes of every defense she’d built around herself.
Trey would be the one to break through the surface of her pain.
“Ahem.” Lieutenant Thomas reared back in his seat, a lock of hair falling askew on his forehead. Those hard lips thinned into a tight line. “Er, Miss Donovan—”
“Yo, Mitch.”
She twisted around in her seat at the sound of Trey’s voice. His tall, muscled body filled the doorway, his presence consuming the small office.
He smiled at her and heat rushed to her cheeks. She’d been prostrate before him, incoherent with all kinds of emotions and nearly naked. She peeped at him through the curtain of her hair.
“We cool?”
Too nervous to do anything else, she lowered her lashes. The lieutenant narrowed his eyes at her.
“We’re cool,” she mumbled.
“I need a word with you, Mitch.”
Lieutenant Thomas blew out a breath and stood. “Sure, Wilson,” he muttered, brushing past Trey and disappearing from sight.
“If you need anything, you have the nightshift at your beck and call, baby girl,” Trey reassured her, nodding in the general direction of the mostly empty cubicles. He handed her a card. “That has the number to my cell but I’ll try to get back to check on you at least once.”
“Okay,” she mumbled, not knowing what else to say. He knew her deepest, darkest secret and she didn’t know how comfortable she felt with that. She trusted Trey with her life. It was becoming more and more evident, however, her sanity revolved around her secret.
He gave her a small smile. Walking forward, he bent down and tipped up her chin.
His dark eyes were troubled. “You trust me, don’t you, sweetheart?” he asked huskily.
“Yes.”
His thumb slid across her lower lip, his touch a shot of static electricity through her body. “Then trust me now.”
She felt like sobbing all over again so she nodded. His radio crackled with the dispatcher’s voice. His service weapon was holstered, his handcuffs and Taser secure in the spots on his belt. A moment later, she found herself alone, staring at the spot where Trey had stood.