by Elise Noble
Fuck my life. How was Brooke still sane?
Finally, we all made it out to the car, and I headed for the Crowe property. I still had two more weeks of this, and I couldn’t even hate it because it let me get my Brooke fix before I headed overseas again. Who knew when I’d be back? I’d become a nomad—no roots, no home, no concrete plans for the future. Maybe it was genetic? Romi was living out of a hotel room in Paris this month. Yeah, my father was still in Baldwin’s Shore, but that was only because he was too poor to leave and too drunk to care, and nobody knew where the hell my mother was. She hadn’t sent so much as a postcard since she walked out on us two decades ago.
“I’m sorry about Paulo,” Brooke said. “What did he say?”
“He wants to be reincarnated as a dog so he can lick his own balls.”
Brooke clapped both hands over her mouth, but a giggle still escaped. “Are you serious?”
“Unfortunately.”
“He has no filter.”
“Yeah, I got that. But he seems like a good friend to you.”
“He’s the best. Darla too. When I moved back into town, I was worried about finding a job here, but I got lucky.”
“I’m happy that you’re happy.”
And I meant it. The last time I’d left Baldwin’s Shore, Brooke had been hurting, and I wasn’t sure I could walk away and leave her miserable a second time, not without trying to fix things first. Twenty-year-old me had taken the easy way out, but the army had taught me there was no place in this world for chickens. A lesson it had taken me far too long to learn.
Brooke gave a quiet snort, and I couldn’t blame her. I didn’t exactly have a great track record when it came to caring about her feelings. I should have made the effort to call her. Or emailed when the time difference was unkind. I missed the friendship we used to have, and this pilgrimage back to Oregon was showing me just how much.
“Key.” I held out my hand when we got back to her place. “I’ll get the front door while you walk Vega around the yard.”
She handed it over without a word, and I lifted the dog out of the car. Fuck, everything was covered in glitter, including me. I’d have to get the car detailed before Aaron came back. Was the car wash behind the gas station on the outskirts of Coos Bay still open? A couple of Mexican guys used to run it, father and son, but the father would be about seventy by now.
I jogged up the steps and nearly tripped over the box at the top. Looked like a gift from Mrs. Crowe. Her barely legible, spidery handwriting hadn’t changed. I remembered Addy trying to forge it for school permission slips, and the teachers always shrugged and nodded because they couldn’t read a word Mrs. Crowe wrote either.
“Hey, Brooke—you got a package.”
I thought she’d be pleased, but she froze. She fucking froze, and all the colour drained out of her face. What the hell? I scanned the yard in case Brooke had seen something I’d missed, like a bear or a mountain lion. One hand went to my gun, and I prepared to fire a warning shot, but there was nothing. Nothing apart from the remains of the spilled candy, still scattered beside the summer house. Some creature had been helping itself—half of the chocolates were missing, and paw prints criss-crossed back and forth. A fox, maybe, or a large cat.
“Brooke? You okay?”
Vega whined and nudged her leg with his nose as I ran down the steps, keeping an eye out for potential threats as I went. Brooke was already tearing up when I reached her, and I wrapped an arm around her waist as her knees buckled.
“What’s wrong? Do you need to go to the hospital?”
She shook her head, and the tears spilled down her cheeks. Ah, shit. She’d gone from happy to distraught in the space of thirty seconds, and I didn’t have the first fucking clue as to why. What a day for Aaron to pick for the start of his vacation.
“You want me to call someone? Addy? Paulo? Darla?” Brooke bit her lip, and the dog licked her hand. “Aaron?”
“No!”
“Brooke, you gotta talk to me. I’m out of my depth here.”
“W-w-where did the package come from? Is there an address label?”
“Mrs. Crowe left it there.”
Brooke sagged in my arms, and I shifted my grip to hold her up.
“Are you sure?”
“Ninety percent? Your name’s almost unreadable, so I’d say it’s a fair assumption.”
“Thank goodness.” The words escaped on an exhale, so quiet I was barely able to hear them.
“Who did you think sent the package?”
And why had that left her so upset?
“It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t him.” Another gulped breath. “It wasn’t him,” she repeated, almost to herself.
“Wasn’t who?”
Which asshole did I need to send to the emergency room? Because if the prick had caused Brooke’s distress, then he needed to be informed of the error of his ways. When Brooke didn’t answer, I scooped her up in my arms and carried her back to the apartment. Vega ambled along beside us, taking the drama in his stride.
“Can you climb up the steps, Brooke? Because unless I sling you over my shoulder, I can’t carry you and the dog at the same time.”
“I-I-I can manage.”
I set her onto her feet and nudged her in front of me. That way, if she fell, I’d act as a backstop. Then I picked up the dog and followed Brooke up the stairs, still in the dark about what the hell was going on but getting more worried by the minute. It was a different kind of fear than I usually felt. In a war zone, there was a baseline level of apprehension, the knowledge that the unexpected could and probably would happen. But I’d trained for that. My skills had been honed over the years until I didn’t have to think, I just reacted.
But today? Today, I was lost.
Inside, I set the dog in his bed, guided Brooke to the couch, and secured her piece-of-shit door. Pulled the drapes closed. Then it was time to get some answers.
“Brooke?”
Her lips trembled in a poor attempt at a smile. “I’m fine. It’s just been a long day, that’s all.”
“Bullshit.”
She dragged her gaze up to mine. “Thank you for bringing me home. I’ll see you later?”
“Sure. You’ll see me later. And I’ll bring a sleeping bag and a pillow because unless you tell me what’s going on, I’m spending the night on your couch.”
“Oh, no. No, no, no.”
“Then talk. Right now.”
What the fuck was the problem?
11
Luca
Brooke curled up as small as she could get, knees drawn up to her chin with her arms wrapped around her legs.
“Someone’s been sending me weird packages. I thought that was another one.”
“The chocolates? The flowers?”
She looked up sharply. “How do you know about the flowers?”
“I watched you take them inside, and then I saw them in the trash.”
“Oh.”
“What else has he sent you, Brooke?”
And it had to be a guy, surely? She’d referred to “him,” plus she wouldn’t get worked up if a chick was sending her candy.
“Only a card.”
“A card?”
She nodded.
“Where’s the card now?”
“I threw it a-a-away. I thought it was just a sick j-j-joke.”
“What did it say?”
“I c-c-can’t…” Brooke gave a shuddering sniffle, and I didn’t know whether to hug her or squeeze her hand or stay the hell back. This was outside my area of expertise. I did one-night stands, not relationships, and if those women ever cried, then I wasn’t there to see it. “I can’t say.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Y-y-you’ll freak out and call Aaron, and he’s on vacation.”
“I’m already freaked the hell out, sweetheart. And if you don’t give me the facts, I won’t have a lot of choice about calling your brother because I don’t know how to help you myself.”
Screw boundaries. Screw the carefully constructed rules I’d imposed on myself. I gathered Brooke onto my lap and she clung to me as she crumbled, her tears soaking my shirt, her heart beating against my chest. I hoped that if I held her close enough, I could take some of the agony away. What had she been going through? And why hadn’t she told anyone? If Aaron had an inkling of Brooke’s secret, he’d sure as hell have warned me before he left the country.
“Brooke, talk to me. What did the card say?”
“It…it was an anniversary card. It said ‘Do you remember me? Because I remember you.’ I can’t get the words out of my head. At night… I can’t sleep.”
“Who sent it? Do you remember him?”
“I don’t know! I don’t know who he is, but I’ll never forget what he did to me.”
That motherfucker.
A chill ran through me, quickly followed by a burst of white-hot fury. Some piece of shit had hurt Brooke? He was a dead man.
“What did he do?”
I didn’t want to know the answer, but I had to know what we were dealing with.
“I think… I think he r-r-raped me.”
Once, I’d been angry all the time. Teenage Luca Rey Mendez had been liberal with his threats and wild with his fists. The army had shown me how to channel that anger, how to hone it to a razor-sharp point and punch it through the enemy. But right now, I wanted to punch the damn wall. I had to put Brooke down and walk. Pace the damn apartment while the anger hissed and slithered inside of me.
Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth…
Something in my jaw cracked, and I forced myself to unclench my teeth.
“You think he raped you?”
Wasn’t that the kind of thing a woman would know?
“I was at Addy’s birthday party. I got drunk. And maybe somebody put something in my drink, I’m not sure. I was s-s-so stupid.”
“Don’t ever say you’re stupid, Brooke. You’re anything but stupid. If some motherfucker assaulted you, that’s on him. You didn’t report this?”
Brooke shook her head, wretched. “I don’t remember anything apart from waking up the next morning and feeling sore, like, like… Do I have to freaking spell it out?”
“You’re certain you didn’t consent?”
Now Brooke’s eyes flashed with the same anger I felt, except hers was directed at me.
“And next you’ll want to know why I didn’t file a report. I already said I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything. I don’t remember talking to a guy. I don’t remember leaving the party. I don’t remember going home. And I sure as heck don’t remember having sex.”
“What did Addy say? Did she see you with anybody?”
Brooke focused on her lap.
“Shit, you didn’t even tell Addy?”
“Not everything. I said a guy had been bothering me, but she didn’t remember seeing me with anyone in particular. Just a few minutes here, a few minutes there. A social…a social caterpillar.”
“A what?”
“She was the butterfly, I was the caterpillar.”
“Addy called you a caterpillar?”
Brooke wasn’t a fuckin’ caterpillar. She was a hummingbird—beautiful and delicate.
“It was a joke between us. I was the one who started it.”
Should’ve dodged the government soldiers and stayed in Eritrea. Life on the run would’ve been easier than dealing with this mess. But fuck, then Brooke would be on her own. And Aaron was like a brother to me. Although Brooke definitely wasn’t like a sister. If I thought about my own flesh and blood the way I thought about Brooke, I’d be arrested, and rightly so.
Although prison was still a possibility because when I got my hands on the motherfucker who stole what Brooke hadn’t freely given, I’d take the death penalty over letting him walk away. Did Aaron have experience with defending murder one? If not, he needed to brush up on his statutes.
“You’re not a damn caterpillar.” I brushed away the hair stuck to Brooke’s cheek and wiped her tears with the bottom of my shirt. “Don’t come out with that bullshit again.”
“But—”
“Brooke…” My voice held a warning, and she fell silent, then burrowed against me like a scared puppy. “No caterpillars. And you gotta tell Aaron.”
“When he gets back from his vacation.”
“You know he’d leave Cabo in a heartbeat if he thought you were in trouble.”
“Yes, I do know, and that’s exactly why I didn’t tell him. He’s been working so hard lately. You might not have noticed how tired he is, but I did.”
She wasn’t wrong, and I had noticed. Aaron hadn’t taken a vacation in years, and since he moved back to Baldwin’s Shore, he’d spent every waking minute either building up the law firm he hoped to run once Asa Phillips retired or remodelling the derelict building he wanted to call home. Even when he lived in New York, he’d worked two jobs so he could send money home to Brooke and Nonna and keep his student loans to a minimum. Bartending, plus legal work when he could get it and a stint interning at the NYPD. I’d sent money to Nonna too, and so had Romi, but being sick was expensive, and Aaron’s pride meant we couldn’t do as much as we’d wanted. But toward the end, Romi had come to an arrangement with the hospital so Aaron never even got to see most of the medical bills. Despite my sister’s tarnished reputation, she had a good heart.
As did Brooke.
Nobody would hurt Brooke over the next two weeks, not on my watch. Was it really necessary to call Aaron right away? Yeah, he’d be upset that we kept him in the dark, but even if he came home tomorrow, there wasn’t much he’d be able to do. He wasn’t a detective.
“Fine. But we have to report this to Colt so he can start an investigation.”
“No! Please, no.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because Colt will have to get others involved, and I don’t trust anyone with a dick, okay? Well, except Aaron and Paulo. And Colt. And you.”
Never thought I’d be so happy to make it into a select group with Paulo, but these were strange days.
“Thank you for trusting me.”
“I know you weren’t there at the time.”
And then it hit me. Her questions this morning about when I’d transitioned out of the Rangers. She hadn’t been certain I was innocent, had she? We’d known each other since we were kids, and she hadn’t been fucking certain. That was a punch to the gut.
But I swallowed my disappointment because acting pissy wouldn’t help Brooke.
“Did you keep the notes?”
“Only today’s.” Shit. Her brother was a lawyer, and she didn’t understand the value of evidence? “I just… I just wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened. That’s what I’ve been doing for the last year—pretending.”
“You can’t pretend anymore, sweetheart, and you need to talk to Colt.”
“I—”
“You might not trust the process, but we need his help on this.”
“I’m so…” Her voice had dropped to a whisper. “I’m so ashamed of it all.”
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of. You didn’t cause any of this.”
She didn’t believe me, I could tell, and I hated that she felt that way. Hated that a man, a motherfucker with a dick and an ego, had made her feel ashamed that she’d gone to her best friend’s birthday party and had a drink.
“You won’t call Aaron?” she asked.
“I won’t call Aaron on one condition.”
“What condition?”
“For the next two weeks, unless you’re at work, you’re by my side.”
Brooke opened her mouth to disagree, but I cut her off. Right now, her safety came before any stupid arguments she might have.
“No ifs, no buts. I’m your shadow. Either I’m moving in here, or you’re sleeping at Deals on W
heels. Preferably the second option since your door isn’t fit for purpose.”
“Deals on Wheels is a building site.”
“The room I borrowed is habitable, and the building’s got decent doors. Solid. You can take the bed…” Okay, so it was a mattress, but it was still better than staying in a stalker’s paradise. “And I’ll sleep outside the door on a cot.”
Plus that would save me from driving to the Crowes’ place four times a day to let Vega out, but Brooke’s sour expression said she hated the idea.
“Think of it as an adventure. You can bring your dog and your tchotchkes, and I’ll buy a camping stove and bug spray.”
“There are bugs?”
“It was a joke. There are no bugs.”
Just the occasional spider, but I wasn’t about to tell her that.
“Maybe I could try staying there for a night?”
“Pack up your shit, Brooke. I’ll call Colt.”
12
Brooke
If Luca thought sleeping at Deals on Wheels would help, he was wrong. I didn’t sleep a wink. For the past year, my life had been falling apart in slow motion, but now I’d hit the downhill section and things were rapidly hurtling toward disaster.
Firstly, there was the obvious problem—my stalker. Secondly, there was no avoiding the fact that I had to spill my secrets to Aaron in less than two weeks. Thirdly, I’d never be able to look Colt in the eye again after what I’d told him last night. My statement was filled with words like “vagina,” “penetration,” and “naked,” and if dying from mortification had been an option, I’d have gladly taken it. Luca had stayed with me the whole time, his expression growing darker and darker, and when Colt asked if I might possibly have dreamed the entire event—a question I’d asked myself many times—I feared Luca might take a swing at him.
“Brooke doesn’t make shit up, asshole.”
I’d laid a hand on his arm, the cords of muscle tight under my fingers.
“There was the note. I didn’t write the note.”
Colt’s tone was apologetic. “I have to ask. Wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t.”
