Karl’s voice reached Brittany from far away, washing through her.
“Is Brittany all right?”
She listened to the cadence of his voice, the syllables, trying to fathom if he could drop his voice to the low pitch she’d heard. She clung tighter to Trey.
“Make them go.” Whether he’d been responsible or not, she hated he was witnessing her so vulnerable. He’d terrorized her enough.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Karl asked again in his smooth, syrupy voice.
She wanted to throw up all over again. Instead she turned her face toward him, her head still against Trey’s chest. “Go. I don’t want you here.”
“Brit, it’s okay,” Bryson soothed. “It’s only Karl. He’s like family.”
“He caused you and Trey to fight yesterday.”
Karl stepped closer, reached out to touch her but paused. She couldn’t see Trey’s face but she felt his sudden tension.
“I was only going to offer her a soothing, brotherly touch,” he sneered. “You don’t have to look at me as if you’re going to tear my head off.”
“Trey, man, calm down,” Bryson advised. “It’s only Karl. You’ve already staked your claim. He’s not going to overstep his boundaries.”
“Is that so?” Mitchell asked. “You’ve staked your claim, have you, Trey? And you’re okay with that, Bryson?”
“There’s not much Bryson can do about it now, Lieutenant, since Trey has already stuck his cock in her.”
I hate you so much. She thought she’d said those words in her mind but she saw the ugly look Karl gave her.
“You hate me? What have I done to you? I’ve tried to advise you. Keep your soul from heading to hell. I didn’t make you spread your legs for Trey outside the bounds of matrimony, like a dime-store whore.”
Brittany broke away from Trey and ran to the bathroom, vaguely aware of bones crunching and grunts of pain, of angry, vicious curses and shouts of warning. She slammed the door shut and leaned against it, then slid to the floor, sobbing into her hands.
✽ ✽ ✽
Trey had never been so murderously angry in his life. He’d never pummeled a man with the singular goal of killing him. But he’d had enough of Karl. He had a thing for Brittany and now that she and Trey were lovers, Karl felt as if he’d lost her to Trey.
“Fuck, you’re a strong son-of-a-bitch.” Bryson grunted, trying to drag Trey off of Karl. “Mitchell,” Bryson continued, gasping for breath, “help me get this wild bastard off Karl before he kills him.”
With the help of Mitchell and two other officers, Bryson dragged Trey off Karl. Karl’s face was a bloody mess. Trey struggled against his captors’ viselike grips.
“Whatever beef you have with me, leave Brittany the fuck alone.”
“Calm the fuck down,” Mitchell said, blowing from the exertion of separating Trey from Karl.
“Let me fucking go, Lieutenant Thomas,” Trey shouted back.
“It’s fine,” Karl said in a disgustingly calm tone, despite his gasps of pain. He held up his hands in surrender. “Trey has every right to beat my ass. I disrespected his lady.” He doubled over, coughing. “I always thought one day we’d have a chance. I let my jealousy take over. I’m so sorry.”
Trey wasn’t ready to hear apologies from Karl.
“You need an ambulance?” Bryson relaxed his hold on Trey ever so slightly.
“No, Bry, I’m fine,” Karl got out.
Mitchell glared and let Trey go, staring at Karl with undisguised dislike. “I suggest you leave, Reverend Wilson, before Trey decides to put a bullet in your ass.”
“I’ve already apologized. That’s worth something to Trey, Lieutenant.” Karl turned and staggered away.
Mitchell frowned, cold fury glossing his eyes. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I have to talk to the attending officer. One of you see to Brittany,” he commanded and stalked out of the room.
It seemed to take hours but CSU came and left without lifting a single print. Whoever had been in the house had used gloves. Once she’d returned from the bathroom with her face washed and in better control of herself, Brittany gave an official statement. Mitchell forbade Trey and Bryson from having anything to do with the case. Bryson reported to duty after helping Trey with temporary repairs on the door. And finally Trey was alone with Brittany, who was sitting on the chair in the living room, silent.
Looking at her, seeing how vulnerable she was, Trey sat down woodenly. He’d never been so frightened in his life. If Brittany hadn’t run and barricaded herself in his room… If Mitchell hadn’t happened by… He’d always thought about what it would be like to leave a wife and child behind. That had always been his driving force behind not getting involved in a relationship. He’d never considered the possibility that he might lose a woman he loved.
Loved?
He leaned back, feeling as if the wind had been knocked from him. He loved Brittany? More to the point, he was in love with Brittany. And he’d almost lost her. He felt ill at the thought. Devastated was too mild a word to describe his feelings if he’d come in and found Brittany dead.
He covered his face with his hands. The newfound revelation should’ve freed him and made him want to shout from the rooftop. All it did was leave him cold.
“Trey?”
He looked up. She stood right in front of him, delicate and beautiful and fragile. His cock hardened to stone and he cursed, scrubbing his hand over his face.
“You need to rest.”
“I need you.”
No… In his current mood he was the last person she needed. “A warm shower will help you.”
She remained there a moment longer, her nearness enveloping him and overwhelming him with all the different feelings rioting through him. When he refused to relent and look at her, she walked away. Trey leaned his head back against the sofa, sick inside. He’d empathized with the unknown, faceless woman whom he’d tried to protect by not involving himself with her. But he knew what it was like to have his heart ripped out by an unexpected death.
He knew it and he couldn’t go through that again. He frowned at the ceiling. Motherfucker. This attack couldn’t have been random. They lived in a relatively safe neighborhood and on the third floor. He and Bryson were well known in the neighborhood. Everyone knew they were cops.
Trey wondered whom Mitchell suspected of assaulting Brittany. The lieutenant had grilled her without her knowledge when she’d stayed in his office. Mitchell knew more than he let on. Had he confronted the man? Who the hell—?
“Should I put it back on or leave it off?”
Trey jerked his head at the sound of her uncertain voice. She stood, naked, trembling like a frightened doe, a nightgown hanging from her fingers.
“For fuck’s sake,” Trey growled, his brain demanding he stay put but his legs already carrying him to her, urging her against the nearest wall, hungry for her.
Wrapping her legs around his waist and holding her up with one hand, he freed himself with the other and pushed into her with a deep grunt. Anger, despair, love and satisfaction made him take her fast and deep, even though she needed tender, loving care right then. His mouth ravished hers, his dick sliding in and out of her pussy in a punishing rhythm. It didn’t seem to matter to her. She was clutching his arms, moving against him, whispering his name. He jerked inside her, felt her walls clenching around him. Her soft cries drove him insane and he pounded into her harder. Her nails dug into his arms and even that pain brought him pleasure. She tightened around him, reaching her release, milking his orgasm from him, drawing his seed into her in a hot rush.
Trey braced her against the wall, anchoring her in his arms, still encased inside her cunt until he caught his breath. Then he withdrew from her and let her slide back to her feet.
She was staring at him with wide eyes, her legs shaking.
He clenched his jaw, covered his manhood again then leaned down and picked up her discarded nightgown. He slipped it over her head and helped her into it. It was white cotton, long-sleeved and high-necked, covering even her toes. On Brittany, Trey swore it was the sexiest gown he’d ever seen.
Cursing the situation and himself, Trey looked at her flushed cheeks, at the passion clearing from her eyes, at her swollen mouth. He was supposed to support Brittany and help her through this. Instead he felt and acted like an animal with her.
“Are you coming to bed?”
His nostrils flared. He wanted her again. He wanted to reassure himself she was alive and warm and vital. He turned away from her, rubbing his jaw and his eyes in pure frustration.
“Not yet.”
“I-it’s okay. I-I’m okay. We need to sleep.”
He turned to her. “I don’t need to sleep. I need to fuck you again.” His crudity allowed him to stifle his emotions. He refused to suffer what he’d suffer when he was a child. He stalked to her, planting his hands on both sides of her head. He’d felt so helpless earlier and he wouldn’t feel that way again. Loss, he realized, was a two-way street. The fear dictating his life had been one-sided. He hadn’t ever considered what it would feel like if he lost a woman he loved.
“You don’t mean that the way it sounds,” she began in measured tones.
“You’re wrong.”
Trey covered her mouth with his, letting her feel his erection again. She stood stiff and tense against him.
He lifted his head. “I meant it exactly as it sounded. I’m not in the mood to make love. I want to fuck.”
She flinched. Myriad emotions flickered across her features—hurt, dismay, uncertainty. And the tiniest shred of fear.
“Jesus Christ!“ He dropped his hands and moved away from her, walking in circles like a man gone mad. He didn’t want her afraid of him. He wanted her safe and happy. “From the moment I walked through the apartment door and found you here, my entire world has been turned upside down. Do you know the fear I felt when I saw an entire fucking parking lot filled with police cars? Do you?” He didn’t really expect an answer. How could one respond to a madman? “What do you want from me?” he asked in a ragged voice.
“I didn’t ask you to be my boyfriend,” she said with bitterness. “I didn’t ask to move into your room. I haven’t asked anything of you.”
“Haven’t you? As I recall you asked me to make love to you.”
She wilted at those words and began backing away from him. “Like a dime-store whore.”
“You know I don’t think of you that way. I think you have a very passionate soul.” He felt so tired. He told himself to let it rest for the night. Now wasn’t the time to make rash decisions, not with his emotions running so hot. Last night, someone had tried to kill Spenser. Today, someone had tried to get Brittany. “Just tell me. Tell me. Who raped you?”
“W-what does that have to do with anything?”
“I’m your man,” he snarled. “Trust me enough to give me the fucker’s name.”
Backing away from him, she shook her head, her eyes huge.
Trey passed a hand over his face. “I can’t do this. We never should have started an affair.”
“So that’s it then?”
Accusation burned in her eyes and it felt as if she were ripping his heart out of his chest. He remained silent, unwilling to discuss anything more. He was ill equipped for a relationship, especially one with her. Knowing how damaged she was, he shouldn’t have even tried. More than anything he wanted to assist her, but her refusal to give him the name of her rapist left him helpless.
“We’re ending before we really had a chance to get started?”
“I’m so, so sorry.”