Another damn busy night, starting with apprehending a robbery suspect and ending at the scene of a murder at dawn, had kept Trey in the field until well after 9:00 a.m. Passing through the secured gates of the precinct parking lot, Trey knew Mitchell had already left by now. Since Spenser was pregnant, yet again, the man didn’t tarry at the station.
When Mitchell said he was in love with Spenser, he’d meant it, and there wasn’t a more pathetic sight than Mitchell after Spenser walked out on him. While Trey knew the routine, Mitchell’s absence left Brittany alone with the officers of the day shift. Whereas Mitchell was Trey’s friend and could be counted on to watch over Brittany, the lieutenant who came in to relieve Mitchell as shift commander could be rather intimidating.
Grimly, Trey parked his cruiser and hurried to the second floor, barely pausing to respond to greetings he received along the way to the lieutenant’s office. Trey skidded to a halt, feet away, shock jolting through him. Mitchell was sitting behind the desk, yawning. Seeing no sign of Brittany, Trey barreled forward and threw open the door, not bothering to knock.
“Bryson took her home?” he asked by way of greeting.
Mitchell threw Trey a half smile then laid his head on the back of his chair, closing his eyes. He rolled his shoulders and pointed toward the corner. “She’s over there.”
Trey glanced over his own shoulder and all his worry dissipated, melting into sweet tenderness. Brittany lay sleeping on a portable cot, one of her legs hung hanging over the side, her hair spread in every direction and partially covering her face, her long lashes a dark, curling slant on her delicate eyelids.
Fingertips tapped on the desk and Trey met Mitchell’s inscrutable gaze.
“She’s been asleep for about three hours,” Mitchell told him. “Cherry is pissing mad because I’ve sent him to the hole.”
Everyone hated the hole, an unused, cluttered office, closed-in and overflowing with work files.
“I’m surprised Chenois agreed.”
“What the fuck could the asshole do? Physically remove me? I don’t think Cherry’s so stupid.”
Lieutenant Chenois, or Cherry, as Mitch called him, wasn’t one of Mitch’s favorite people, but Trey had never pried into the exact reasons and wouldn’t now. He was grateful Mitchell had stayed.
“Thank you, Lieutenant Thomas. I appreciate you looking after her for me.”
Mitchell grunted before closing his eyes again. “I want you to take three or four days off.”
“What?” Trey asked, stunned. The last thing he expected was a disciplinary action because he’d brought Brittany to the precinct. “Look, I know I shouldn’t have brought her here—”
“For fuck’s sake. You think I give a fuck you brought her here? I’m not suspending you, I’m suggesting you take a few days off to sort through things with her.”
An even more ominous prospect than a suspension. As he’d promised Bryson, Trey would talk to Brittany but not about having a relationship. He’d explain to her all the reasons why a relationship between them would be impossible. “There’s nothing for us to sort through. She’s Bryson’s sister and my friend and—”
“It’s your business if you believe that bullshit. But if that bullshit is the gospel truth, then you shouldn’t have taken responsibility for her. Or almost come to fisticuffs over her. She’s Bryson’s sister, which means she should be his concern. Not yours.”
“Bryson is overstepping his bounds. He needs to let us work this out on our own.”
“She’s his fucking sister—”
“And she’s my friend.”
“You don’t have women for friends.”
That was true. He didn’t want anything hinting at the possibility of something turning serious. To him, having female friends, especially ones who were unattached, always carried the risk of other feelings developing.
“You can’t drag her here every night for the next six weeks. But you can take a few days off and try to help her through this.” Mitchell pushed his chair back and rose, stretching his arms and his back, the pop of bone eliciting a satisfying grunt. “Fuck, my bones are stiff.” He sighed and read the edges of several manila folders before picking up two, along with his legal pad. “The choice is yours but I suggest you take time off to spend alone with her.”
Time alone with Brittany? The mere thought did strange things to Trey’s body. Too much time alone with her and he’d forget every reason he’d given himself—and intended to give to her—about why they couldn’t be together. Trey dropped down in one of the chairs in front of Mitchell’s desk and rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought you didn’t want your officers shooting at each other.”
“Keep your hands off her and there should be no problem. No shootouts, blood or gore.”
He scowled at Mitchell. “My hands aren’t what I want to put on her,” he grumbled, glancing in her direction again.
She lay in the same position, her sleep seemingly deep and peaceful.
“Stop being a stubborn sonofabitch. Having a wife and kids to go home to, a stable home life, isn’t that bad.”
“She’s in college. She has no interest in being a wife and a mother right now.” The image of her pregnant for him rose in his head and aroused him.
Mitchell must have seen something in Trey’s face because he laughed.
Trey raised a questioning brow.
“You look as if you’re ready to start on that baby with her right now.”
More laughter met Trey’s glower.
“You have it bad for her.”
“I have it worse than you can imagine,” he admitted, leaning back, his gun belt clanking with all the accouterments of his trade. “Worse than I imagined I’d ever have it for any woman.”
The prospect of fatherhood had always frightened Trey, so much so the women he dealt with had to be on some type of birth control—pills, patch, whatever—to complement the condoms he always used. But envisioning Brittany’s belly filled with his child made the all the difference in the world to his view on becoming a dad.
Trey was in trouble. Deep, deep fucking trouble, unless he distanced himself soon.
“We ordered Chinese for dinner,” Mitch said in conversational tones. “Or breakfast. Or whatever the fuck you want to call it since it was nearly three o-fucking-clock in the morning. We got to talking as we ate and you know what she revealed? That our ‘date’ was the first she’d ever been on. What a shitty first date. Stuck in a police precinct, eating cheap Chinese food with a lieutenant charged with the task of babysitting her.”
“I didn’t ask you to babysit her.”
“No, you just asked me to check in on her,” Mitchell snapped. “Wrong choice of words. Sorry.”
Trey yawned, bone tired. “She really told you she’d never been on a date before?”
Mitchell grabbed his keys from the desk. “Yes.”
“What else did she tell you?”
Mitchell squeezed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and his forefinger. “A lot, Trey. She told me a lot.”
Mitchell was a crackerjack interrogator. Trey bet Mitchell had wrung information from her she hadn’t realized she’d been telling.
“Who did it, Mitch? Who raped her?”
His friend’s face grew grave, his eyes sympathetic. “That’s for Brittany to tell you.” He started for the door. “Take the damn time off. See if there’s anything there between you two besides lust. Set the ground rules at the beginning so she won’t expect more. But if it happens, it happens. You can also use some of that time to be her friend. Not Bryson’s friend. Not the bully who wants to murder the sonofabitch who raped her. Her friend.”
“You do know though.”
“She didn’t come right out and give me a name. She didn’t even know I was fishing for information but yes, I have a very good idea of who the perp is.”
“So while I’m being her friend,” he spat, “this bastard will be—“
“Stop it. You take care of your business and let me handle mine. You’re recused from the case. If you don’t want a suspension, or worse, you’ll heed my fucking words. I’m sure she’ll tell you in due time. Hopefully after I’ve put him behind bars and out of your grasp.”
“Was he a friend of hers?”
“Let it go.”
“Let it go? What happens if she comes across this monster while you’re being Sherlock fucking Holmes and gathering evidence? Just tell me who it is.”
Mitchell leveled a look at him. “I’m going to make some calls.” He tapped his fingers on the desk. “Call in a few favors to get my hands on her ER records—“
“Risk your ass on her behalf.”
“Yes, fuck.” Mitchell huffed in annoyance and rubbed his red-rimmed eyes. “Disregard HIPAA. Give myself the option of federal or state penitentiary.”
They’d still need a court-order. Without probable cause, aided by Brittany’s consent, they’d never get one. That meant Mitchell would do some shady, illegal shit. The same thing Trey had intended. “What’s the difference with you doing exactly what I’d planned?” He had to know.
Instead of answering, Mitchell glowered at him and continued as if Trey hadn’t spoken. “See what evidence they gathered doing her vaginal exam.”
Trey stiffened as Mitchell’s words penetrated his brain. “Do you have to keep repeating that?”
“Goddammit. Whether you like it or not, the exam happened and the reason for the exam happened too.”
“You’re an asshole. You think I like the thought of any man forcing her to his will? Or any of what she endured? I know what’s collected for a rape kit.”
“It took her two days before she sought medical help. She’d already showered several times by then, washing away whatever DNA might have been on her body. I understand she worried about pregnancy, which meant he deposited semen inside her—”
A sound of rage rose in Trey’s throat and blew out in a rush. “Shut the fuck up. Now.
Brittany groaned at Trey’s raised voice. Raising her head and opening her eyes, she smiled sleepily at him.
“It’s time to leave?” she asked.
He fought to control the anger rushing through him as hot as the fires of hell and as all consuming. “No, baby girl,” he answered, barely maintaining a civil tone, staring at Mitchell, who returned his regard without flinching.
She stirred and Trey swung his gaze to her. Immediately the anger in him quieted. She was fighting to rouse herself to wakefulness. The white tank top left her arms bare and he wondered if she was cold.
“Rest a little more. I have to finish with Mitchell.”
Laying her head back down, she sent him another unfocused gaze then her eyelids fluttered closed.
“Mitchell—”
“So what’ll it be, Wilson?” Mitchell interrupted, businesslike and authoritative. “A few days off or what?”
“Motherfucker,” he muttered, glaring at Mitchell.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“What the fuck am I supposed to do with Bryson? He’s not going to give his blessings for me to take her to bed.” He shouldn’t have made the admission, even if it was what he wanted most of all. Mitchell’s amused satisfaction had little to do with his regret. She needed to know all men weren’t animals. She’d entrusted him twice with the task and both times he’d fucked up.
“I’ll handle Bryson. Besides, you know he’ll come around if you’re serious about her. No matter how you want to stake your claim and make her yours, take care so there won’t be any happy events nine months down the line and this planned tryst will be our secret. Yours, mine and Brittany’s.”
“So it’s Brittany, huh?”
“She’s a great girl, worth every moment you spend with her.”
That’s what frightened him. She deserved long and lasting joy in her life. He didn’t want her to experience abrupt conclusions to those happy dreams. “I don’t know if I can ever overcome the demons brought about by my father’s death.”
“You’re too smart to be so goddamned stupid. You could walk outside and get run over by a bus. None of our tomorrows are guaranteed. Our next fucking breath isn’t guaranteed.”
He looked at her then back at Mitchell. Trey had more than the fear of a wife prematurely burying him to contend with—there was also the guilt of Karl’s accusations. They’d once been so close and he’d held such respect for his cousin’s opinion. Maybe that’s why, years later, those long ago words haunted Trey. He went to Brittany’s cot. “Years ago, Karl had a good talking to me about her.”
“Your cousin?” Mitchell’s keys jingled, the sound conveying his impatience.
She shifted, curling into a fetal position.
“I didn’t know you valued his opinion so much.”
Trey crouched down, ignoring Mitchell’s icy words. He rubbed his thumb over her full lower lip, her warm breath caressing his skin. “Our birthdays are six days apart. Did I ever tell you that? I turned twenty-three six days after her sixteenth birthday. A grown man. Someone who’d known her family before she was born. I wasn’t supposed to notice her.”
“Did you touch her?”
Trey leaned one knee on the floor, resting his elbow on the other knee and staring at her. “No but she knew how to push my buttons. I tell myself honor and morals would’ve kept me from making love to her.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Hell, Mitch, by then she had me so hot behind her I—”
“What was she doing?”
Trey laughed at the memories of her antics and shook his head. “What didn’t she do, you mean? She kept an endless supply of mini-skirts and short shorts. She was an interminable little flirt who bullied me into attending whatever game her squad would be at. She convinced me to teach her to slow dance because the captain of the football team had asked her to a dance. Goddamn it, but I felt like an ass for being jealous of a boy and I felt even worse when I got a hard-on while I was dancing with her. I left. When I came back the next day, she was sitting at the table in the kitchen talking to Bryson and her smile was so shy and sweet I thought I’d lose my mind.”
“Was Karl there?”
Trey thought back. “No, but afterwards she made a pointed assault on my good sense. I’m sure I was days away from being on the registry for sex offenders. Or being the victim of murder at Bryson’s hands. I was intending to accept what she was offering me. Her virginity. It was all planned. Our favorite NFL team had a big Monday night football game against our bitterest rivals. I was going to go there and watch it with her…” His voice trailed off in shame at his intended seduction.
“You were going to make love to her?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Two things. Karl told me what a betrayal of trust it would be to Bryson and Brittany.”
“And the other?”
“Karl got us tickets to the game.”
“You and her?”
“Me, him and Bryson, but then he backed out at the last minute. He said his girlfriend pitched a bitch, so just Bryson and I went. If she’d been seventeen, I wouldn’t have been at such risk. Seventeen is the age of consent.”
“Karl saved your ass then.”
“I suppose he did.”
“All hail Karl,” Mitchell said sarcastically.
Trey frowned and glanced at Mitch.
“I know you’ve always had an inordinate fondness for the guy and his talk was commendable. Then. Now it’s different. She isn’t sixteen. She’s twenty. The only way you could betray her at this point is by leading her on. Whatever is between the two of you has been building for years. She’s carrying a lot of garbage inside her, but then so are you. I’m not a fucking psychiatrist or a fucking marriage counselor. But you two know each other damn well. Have you ever considered you each have what the fuck the other one needs to fucking heal each other?”
Trey looked at his friend in surprise. “Karl—”
“Motherfuck, Karl!” Mitchell snarled. “Now I have a wife and four children to get home to. No, a wife and four and a half children to get home to. Brittany’s words.”
“She made quite an impression on you, huh?”
“She made an impression on most of the cocks on the nightshift, Sergeant. She’s fucking gorgeous and she’s Bryson the Bruiser’s sister. How many wonders of the world do we have now? About ten fucking thousand? Well, Brittany Donovan is ten fucking thousand and one. I find it incredible she isn’t a bruiser too.”
Trey laughed and rose to his feet. “Cora Donovan isn’t big,” he protested.
“Whatever. As much as I’m enjoying this fucking male-bonding moment, I have to go. My advice to you—ignore whatever the fuck Karl said. Take the next week off. Be clear you’re not offering her anything, at the moment, other than long-overdue sex between the two of you. Just promise me you’ll leave yourself open to something more.”
His body, mind and soul seemed to come alive at the prospect of finally being inside Brittany, her wet heat gripping his cock until he came, hard and deep in her body. No condoms. No barriers. No anything. Just his big body inside her smaller one, mating with her, marking her as his.
Beads of sweat popped out on his skin, the parts of him marking him a man either drawn and tight or hard and throbbing, while the parts of him marking him human, his heart, his brain and his conscience, faced the prospect he’d never touch her. But Mitchell was right. They needed time to themselves to clear the air. He needed time alone with her to ferret out the name of her attacker.
“I don’t have all fucking day. What’ll it be, Wilson?”
“Fine, you meddling sonofabitch. Give me the goddamn time off.”