Chapter One

Braxton

 

It’s only six-thirty in the morning, and my skin is already slick with sweat. The damned humidity in this city is unbearable. I’ve been walking for a total of five minutes, and I already need another shower; probably a cold one after I pay my next visit. It will be the first one where I make my presence known. I’ve been doing recon for weeks in the form of excessive stalking, and for someone who should be on the alert for suspicious looking dudes in her rearview, she has yet to notice me. And now, weeks later, I can acknowledge that I’m officially in deep shit.

The instructions were very clear. Find our girl and watch over her. Do not make contact.

Simple, right?

Except the situation is anything but that.

I pull open the door of the coffee house, breathing in the exotic aromas of fresh brewed joe. Hell, I don’t even like the taste of their overpriced sludge, but I’ve been waiting a damned long time to choke it down.

Stay away, Brax. Don’t get caught in this trap, Brax. Keep your dick in your pants, Brax.

Okay, so that last one is my own directive…to myself. Not that there’s a shot in hell that pipe dream might become a reality anytime soon, at least in this life.

I scan the counter, only to be greeted by the appraising eyes of the two dudes working the machines. It’s a coffee joint in the West Village. I’d have been more shocked if I didn’t get a hard eye fucking.

My spine stiffens. She should be here. She never misses a day. I pull out my iPhone and stare at the screen before stuffing it back in the pocket of my shorts. Who the hell am I going to call? And what would I even say? Any bullshit that spews from my mouth is sure to get me fired. Or killed. Maybe both.

I let out a deep sigh.

Definitely both.

A door to the back room swings open and a shock of blonde makes my heart thump. I can almost taste her citrusy scent: it’s so thick in the air and in my memory. She’s lugging what looks like two heavy bags. My fists clench. Those two douchebags don’t even make a move to help. They just watch her struggle. The sudden urge to pummel takes hold. My blood simmers, and I expel a deep breath to keep myself from leaping over the counter. The anger is always just below the surface, always ready to be unleashed. That’s what makes me dangerous. It’s also what makes me a liability.

The bags land on the Formica with a loud thud. Some of the coffee beans spill over the tops, scattering over the surface. I lunge for the one that is dangerously close to the edge and slide it back.

“Thank you so much,” she murmurs, adjusting the dark-rimmed glasses on her pert nose. She’s so quick to avert her gaze, focusing instead on grinding the mountain of beans while the eye fucker rams me once again.

“So you finally made it inside today.” The corners of his lips curl into what I guess is supposed to be a seductive grin. Whatever the hell. It makes my stomach turn, but I need to be careful. Today is critical, and I’ll be damned if I let my mouth decimate her livelihood.

She scurries into the back room once again. Dammit, I hate when she disappears like that. I already know all the ways in and out of this place, and even at this ungodly hour, there’s always potential for some serious shit. I don’t know how much longer I can hold them off, and I don’t like surprises, especially of the early morning variety. A tight smile stretches across my face as I force out a response. “Late night.”

He cocks an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Doing anyone special?”

In my dreams, sure. In reality, I’m trying to figure out how to escape this fucking living hell, the one where I am always plotting and never able to execute.

Because if I do, I lose everything.

And if I don’t, I can at least buy myself more time. I’m in a perpetual race against it, always bringing up the rear, always hot on its heels.

I clear my throat, peering around him. Why hasn’t she come back out? “Just catching up on some work.” Understatement of the century.

He purses his lips. “Well, maybe you should pop in for a quick pick-me-up next time you have one of those late nights.”

The door swings open, and I release the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Jackass needs to learn to keep his damned mouth shut. “Uh, yeah…sure. Maybe.”

He’s about to assault me with another innuendo when a large jug of nonfat milk lands on the counter with a clunk, watery white liquid splashing his black shirt.

“Callie! What the hell is wrong with you? Can’t you see the cap is off?”

A deep pink flush colors her cheeks as she grabs a dishtowel. “Sorry,” she whispers to him. A strand of hair falls over her eye as she leans over to soak up the milk puddle. My fingers itch to touch, to see if it feels as soft as it looks. She tucks it behind her ear, scrubbing away the evidence of her clumsiness. It makes me want her even more.

“Seriously, dude? It’s milk, not cyanide.” The fingers that were aching to lose themselves in her glossy blonde hair are now forming a very tight fist at my side. Christ, do I ever want to punch that condescending prick look off his face.

His expression momentarily morphs into one of shock, quickly replaced by the normal asshole veneer. “Callie, why don’t you take this order?” With a sniff, he stalks toward the other end of the counter.

She freezes, her hand still clutching the now-soaked rag. Her gaze slowly meets mine, and for a split second, we’re connected. The resulting lurch in my gut serves as a warning, but I’ve always been such a champ at ignoring my instincts, why start now?

“Are you okay?” I murmur.

She nods, her face still stoic. But I see the tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, and I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around her and promise to never let her shed another. “Thanks for that. He’s a real dick.”

“Want me to take care of him?”

A soft giggle escapes her lips, and she clearly has no clue that a simple “yes” will send me flying at him like a wolverine about to feast on its prey. “Ask me tomorrow. Please?”

A lump forms in my throat. She said tomorrow. I have to make sure she has one.

My iPhone vibrates and my eyes fall to the message lighting up the screen.

Any luck?

Callie…Loren…bites her lower lip, a futile attempt to battle the shy smile from lighting up her face. Her blue eyes, still guarding her deepest secret, soften for a fleeting moment. I finally broke through. My fingers hover over the keys before shooting off a response.

No. Still haven’t found her.