“The truck is beautiful,” Brittany commented when they reached the shiny black pick-up truck with the gleaming chrome rims.
Trey smiled, closing the door behind her after she’d climbed in. Settled behind the wheel and pulling out of his space, he gave her a sidelong glance. The taste of her lingered on his lips, the lasting scent of her desire in his nostrils. The painful hardness of his cock and his tight balls had almost distracted his mission to take her on a real date and show her a good time.
She brushed her hands across the teakwood interior then settled back into the leather seat. “I always thought you’d eventually have a motorcycle. You love them so much.”
“You do know me, baby girl.”
She giggled. “Really? You think? I’ve only known you my whole life.”
“Yes you have,” he agreed, a startling realization settling into him. “Since we’re lovers, you know me as no woman ever has.”
“Save it.”
“You don’t believe me?” He was speaking the God’s honest truth. Trey hid from true intimacy. Thinking her in love with him, as Bryson pointed out, sent alternate waves of chilling fear and sweet emotion through him.
“You have a harem,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. “There are many women who know you the way I know you.”
“No, Brit.” For a moment, he concentrated on the road and the vehicles ahead of him, traveling northbound on Highway 59.
Outside, it was hellishly hot, almost all counties of Texas experiencing one of the worst droughts in recent memory. The air was dry, the night-darkened sky endless, infinite, blanketing the horizon like a black cloak studded with stars gleaming like bits of diamonds.
“I’ve taken a lot of women to bed. I’m ashamed to admit that to you. Or to myself,” he added grimly. “But none of them know me. The majority of them don’t know my date of birth, my full name, my favorite food. Nothing.”
“Why hide yourself, Treyshaun?” she asked saucily.
Trey laughed in surprise. Not forty-five minutes ago, she’d been cowering in his closet. Now she was teasing him. She was such a dichotomy, flirty and seductive on the one hand and traumatized rape victim on the other. Too often, the two Brittanys collided and he had no idea how to help her. As a cop, he should know what to do. But it was just so damn personal. Brittany had been the victim in this instance, not an unfortunate stranger.
“Do you remember my middle name?”
“Emanuela. After your father, Emanuel.”
A frown creased her brow.
“Sorry, sweetheart. I’m sure talking about your dad is as painful to you as talking about mine is for me.”
“My dad was a jerk. Your dad was a hero.”
“A hero?” No, his dad had been a police officer who loved his job. He’d loved his family too but first in his life was the job that cost him his life. “My dad was far from a hero.”
“Stop, Trey,” she chided, raising her fingers to push her hair behind her ears, remembering too late she had no hair left. “I know you can’t see it. You only see he was doing his job and was killed in the line of duty, leaving behind a son and a wife who adored him.”
A van switched lanes without warning. Trey braked and clutched the steering wheel with one hand, his other hand instinctively rising to shield Brittany. “It was a routine traffic stop. He wasn’t chasing after someone armed and dangerous. He wasn’t on a raid to bust a drug suspect. He was making a goddamn traffic stop because the guy’s turn signal was out.”
“Yes and from what I remember of him, your dad would’ve only given a warning.” She drew in a deep breath and stared at her hands. “Do you believe he would’ve made that stop if he knew he’d die?”
“Of course not,” Trey snapped. “The very idea is ludicrous.”
“Then you need to forgive him for leaving you.”
He glanced in her direction briefly before turning his attention back to the road. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?”
Of course she did. She was the one person from whom he couldn’t hide.
“You can’t hide from me,” she said, as if she’d read his mind or he’d spoken the words aloud. “You might be able to hide the real you from Bryson and your harem, but you have always talked to me.”
“I couldn’t have shared so much—”
“You did.”
“You never told Bryson anything we discussed?”
Shrugging, she turned back to him. “If you’d wanted him to know, you would’ve talked to him. Not me.”
He smiled. “True that.”
Again, she ran her fingers behind her ear. Trey’s heart turned over at the sudden hurt and sadness on her pretty face. But she heaved in a deep breath and schooled her features into cool composure.
“I’m coming between you and Bryson and you and…” Her voice trailed off.
A quick glance revealed she had resumed staring out the passenger-side window.
“Karl,” she finished.
Those warning bells boomed in Trey’s head at her bare, broken whisper. Her poignant hurt tore through him like a hollow-point bullet, devastating and deadly.
Deciding to take a quick detour, Trey exited the freeway, careful to keep the tension thrumming through him hidden. It didn’t take him long to reach the subdivision where the home he was buying was located. Cruising past the model homes, Trey drove a short distance. There weren’t many lights installed, not many homes built. His house would be one of the first to be seen upon entering the subdivision. When he was off-duty, his cruiser would be parked in the driveway, hopefully serving as a deterrent for any criminals.
He stopped in front of the house. It was small with freshly grown grass and oleander bushes with waxy green leaves.
“Your house?”
Trey nodded. “I want you to see it.” And he wanted to talk to her without the hindrance of having to drive.
After killing the engine and exiting the truck, he hurried around to the passenger side and opened the door. When she climbed down, he took her hand. Together they walked to the front door. He unlocked the door and guided Brittany inside, then secured the door behind them. He then flipped on the switch, flooding the living room with bright light.
The house smelled of newness, plaster and sheetrock, the oiliness of the wood varnish on the floors and the paint on the walls.
“Let me see the rest of it.” She released his hand and moved forward, flipping on light switches wherever she went. Without invitation, she explored the house. Without words, she no doubt knew he wanted her opinion.
The living room led to a small hallway, roughly half the size of the hallway at the apartment. To the left was his bedroom and private bathroom. To the right, the kitchen/breakfast area and a half bath. Directly ahead was another small room with a door to the backyard and another to the laundry room and entry to the garage.
Waiting for her to conclude the tour, he went into the kitchen. Folding his arms, he leaned against the counter, going over in his head how he’d convince her to tell him who’d raped her.
“Well?” he asked with forced cheer as she stepped into the kitchen and inspected it.
A small frown creased her forehead. “I’m happy for you.”
Trey lifted a brow at her hesitant tone. “And?”
Her frown grew, the real Brittany pushing through the one who shielded herself. She shrugged, swept her lashes down, remaining in the doorway. “And what?”
“What do you think?”
Clearing her throat, she walked to the white double-door refrigerator he’d chosen when he met with the builders. She opened it, a stalling ploy.
“You don’t like it?” he guessed.
She slammed the door shut. “What difference does it make how I feel about it?” she snapped, whirling around to face him with narrowed eyes. “It’s small. Quite fitting for your bachelorhood.”
It was small, almost too small. His bedroom took up half the footage. Every other room resembled neat little squares that would be quite cramped when furnished.
“I’m happy for you,” she repeated again.
“But you don’t like it?”
She gave him an odd look. “Do you?” She licked her lips. “Wh-what difference does it make how I feel about your house?”
Trey tensed, sensing she was looking for clues to a much deeper question than whether or not she liked his house. “You’re my girlfriend. You’ll be spending a lot of time here with me before you return to school.”
“What happens when I go back to school?”
Instead of answering, Trey went to her and swept her off her feet. Setting her on the countertop, he ravished her mouth with a deep kiss, his tongue tasting her sweet recesses. Tension stiffened her body and Trey realized she was trying to respond to him but couldn’t. He could’ve chalked it up to whatever she was feeling about the house but he knew it had to do with her attack.
Whose face leered at her in her nightmares?
Karl’s?
Karl?
Karl!
Tearing his mouth from her, Trey stepped away. “It was Karl, wasn’t it?” he asked coldly, wondering why he’d doubted what his gut had told him earlier.
Brittany jerked in surprise, her eyes widening. “What…?”
“Don’t play dumb,” he snarled, slamming his fist against the cabinet door, barely feeling any pain. A crack splintered the center of the cheap plywood. He punched the door again, hard enough to knock a hole through it.
Brittany covered her head but Trey jerked her hands down and forced her to look at him. Tears glistened in her eyes.
“Tell me the truth, goddammit,” he demanded, shaking her.
She cried out, trembling.
He swallowed, his breaths coming fast, his heart pounding, anger sweeping away his reasoning. “Did my cousin assault you?”
Tears slipped down her cheeks. “No,” she whispered, her eyes glittering. “No!”
Fury ran hot and deep in Trey, made worse by the possibility she spoke the truth. He studied her, her fleeting looks of fear and shame registering only because he knew her so well. She bowed her head and took the hand he’d used to batter the cabinet door into her grasp.
His knuckles were beginning to throb and swell. Turning his hand over, she laid her cheek against his palm and rubbed her silky-smooth skin against his roughened skin. Not meeting his gaze, she lifted her head and brought his hand to her mouth, kissing each of his fingers, the soft brush of her lips sending a jolt of desire through him.
Trey closed his eyes and drew her into his arms, not thinking, only acting. Slanting his mouth over hers, he pushed up her dress, bunching it around her waist, finding her devoid of any panties.
“Where are your panties?” he croaked between deep kisses.
“When you took them off earlier, I didn’t know where you put them.”
“And you didn’t bother to look?” he guessed, trailing kisses down her throat and freeing his cock.
He hauled her to the edge of the counter and slipped into her wet heat, grunting with satisfaction as she laid her head against his chest and fell into his rhythm.
After drawing her dress over her head and throwing it aside, Trey lifted her off the counter. Still joined, he grasped her by the waist, withdrawing until just his dick head remained inside her before thrusting into her again. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she moved with him. Just when it seemed he was bringing her to fulfillment, shadows fell over her face and her body froze.
Anger surged through Trey and his erection expanded inside her in response. But he didn’t want to take her in anger so with a growl of frustration, he pulled out of her and set her on her feet.
She hurried to where her dress had been tossed aside and put it back on. Trey covered himself and zipped his pants, before stalking forward.
He said so many awful, ugly things to me.
The memory of her words stopped Trey cold. He, whoever he was, had made her ashamed of passion. It seemed the more she fought for normalcy the deeper she slid into an unreachable place.
Even though Trey wanted to rant and rave and howl with rage and frustration, Brittany needed him. He shouldn’t have touched her until later, just as he’d planned. He especially shouldn’t have touched her when he was still so angry. Angry he thought he’d hit upon the perpetrator and could exact his vengeance. Angry this house wasn’t a place he wanted to live in, even though it had been built to his specifications. And angry—no, enraged—at his helplessness.
“I-I’m sorry. If you need release, I won’t deny you.”
She bit down on her lip, waiting for his response, stoic composure masking her thoughts. A defense mechanism. Trey gathered her in his arms and hugged her, resting his cheek on the crown of her head.
He’d give his right arm to reach her and make her whole again. He kissed the top of her head, mourning the beautiful hair she’d destroyed in her desperation.
“We’ll get through this together, baby girl,” he swore. “I’ll help you however I can. But you have to talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”
She nodded. Standing on tiptoe and dislodging his chin, she put her arms back around his neck. “I talk to you more than I talk to anyone else.”
He sighed and touched his forehead to hers. “Why won’t you tell me who it is?”
“I can’t,” she whispered, a shiver traveling through her.
“Just tell me a name. A first name. A last name. Anything.”
Not surprisingly, she shook her head.
“Damn it, why not?”
She shrugged and closed her eyes.
“What…? Were you threatened? If you revealed who it was? That’s it, isn’t it? He threatened you. Said what? He’d kill you if you told anyone?”
Slowly she nodded. “Yes. He also said he’d hurt you and Bryson.”
Her matter-of-fact tone told Trey she’d gone back into that place where her emotions were frozen. Pushing her now would cause her additional damage. As would ripping the cabinets off the walls as he wanted to rip her assailant apart, limb from limb.
Where was his training when he needed it? His cool-headed professionalism was one of the things that made him so good on the job. He had the ability to quickly assess a situation, exert his authority and defuse hostile situations. The hot-headed anger he’d once been known for was the surest way of getting his ass shot off.
“Let it go. Please.”
He bent and kissed her on the cheek.
She swallowed and met his gaze with her own steady one. “I can tell you it wasn’t your cousin.”
“If it was, would you tell me?”
“What a provocative question.”
“Which deserves an honest answer.”
Pulling out of his grasp, she scraped her fingers through her short hair and turned her back to him. “Of course I would,” she said ruefully. “I’d tell you so I could be the reason blood was shed between you and him. You could be hurt. Or you could blame me for coming between you and your cousin.”
Him. Your cousin. She skirted Karl’s name whenever she could, giving Trey more reason to suspect the man.
He cocked his head. “There was a football game. Karl got us tickets. At the last minute, he backed out. He claimed his girlfriend was angry he hadn’t purchased a ticket for her. It was a Monday night. He knew Bryson and I would be at the game. The perfect time for him to assault you.”
“It wasn’t him.”
“You can’t even say his name.”
She swung around and glowered at him. “Karl. Karl. Karl,” she gritted, stomping her foot each time she said his name. “What more do you want me to say? Other than the name of the man who did it?”
He gave her a hard stare. “What day did your attack occur?”
“I don’t remember what day.”
“Bullshit. The last four years of your life have been consumed by that night. You know exactly when it happened.” Bitterness welled inside Trey. “That same football game? Before Karl bought us the tickets, I intended to spend the evening with you. To watch the game on television. Or so I said. In reality I intended to make love to you.”
“You would’ve stopped if I’d told you to.”
“Stop making excuses for me. Do you know how old you were? My confession is just another dent in my armor.”
She licked her lips. “I-I wish you had,” she confessed, speaking low, her cheeks darkening.
Desire glinted in her eyes and she drew in a breath. She wanted him. Of that, Trey had no doubt. But whatever had been said to her had as much of a profound effect on her as the physical assault. Perhaps more so.
“There’s no shame in desire and lovemaking, Brittany. Even hot, raw sex. As long as it is consensual.”
She pursed her lips, her look vulnerable and distant. Hesitating, she raised her hands in supplication. “You…you don’t think I’m a whore?”
“Did Karl call you that?” He knew the answer by the tears rushing to her eyes.
“Yes.” Her eyes rounded and she sucked in a breath. “No! Your… K-Karl didn’t say that to me. He said it to me.”
They stared at each other for a moment, the panic and fear in her eyes subduing Trey. “You’re far from a whore. You’re beautiful and you’re passionate and I think I’m the luckiest man in the world to be able to call you mine.”
“Oh, Trey,” she whispered, launching herself into his arms.
“I’m starving, baby girl.” To salvage the night, he’d drop it.
“I am too.”
Leaving her in the kitchen, Trey turned off all the lights she’d flicked on. When he returned to collect her, she gave him a tentative smile.
“D-don’t accuse Karl of something he didn’t do.”
Tomorrow, he’d track down her former teacher. She shouldn’t be very hard to find, since she was the big sister of Brittany’s best friend, Jamie. “Just know this. The man who hurt you could be my brother, if I had one, and he’d still be a dead man. If I ever find out it was Karl who raped you, he’ll be the sorriest motherfucker who ever had the misfortune of being born.”