“Damn it. Is his office in the back hall?”
“Yep.”
Brent tossed some money down onto the bar, leaving his beer unfinished. His gut niggled with worry as he stalked toward the back hallway. That was probably just because it held bad memories, he told himself. That was where Brianna had been attacked. Where he’d first met Ella. There was no reason to worry about her now. The only problem they’d have is that she was pissed as hell at him for leaving her half naked on the sofa the other night. In nothing but a blanket and sexy lace panties.
But shit. Something had been off with all those damn messages she kept getting. And then when Matthew had gotten the call from Brianna saying that Ella was back here?
It was like something inside him had snapped.
Someone like her shouldn’t be working here. Even if she didn’t want a fucking thing to do with Brent, he was going to drag her out of here kicking and screaming. She could thank him later. Guilt ate him alive every day that he hadn’t done more for Lizzie.
Brent stalked down the back hallway, his eyes sweeping the area. His Glock was tucked into the back of his jeans just in case he ran into trouble. More than likely with that asshole Frank in charge. No one was around, and his eyes swept toward the security cameras lining the hall. A single red light shone at the bottom of one, indicating it was on. A lot of fucking good that had done Brianna. Did anyone even monitor those things? Frank was probably more concerned about someone robbing him than keeping his employees safe.
A door at the end of the hall was open, which Brent thought was Frank’s office if he remembered correctly. He ground his teeth, stalking closer. Seemed unlikely that pansy ass would be back here on a Saturday night when there was a crowd out front. Not when there was money to be made.
He heard the sounds of a filing cabinet slamming shut, and then two burly men came through the door, tatted up and menacing looking. Probably carrying. The biggest one was bald, nearly as tall as Brent’s own 6’2”, and looked like he was jacked up on ‘roids. Right on his heels was a shorter man with a dark buzz cut and long scar across his cheek. “You seen Meyers?” the bald one barked.
“That the manager that runs this shit hole? Then no,” Brent ground out. “But I’m about ready to pummel his ass.”
Baldy huffed out a laugh, but Scarface said, “Get in fucking line. He owes us money. And we always collect on our debts.”
“Fucking moron,” Brent muttered. “What kind of trouble isn’t this asshole in?”
The back door slammed against the wall as it was thrown open, and a third man came storming in, looking pissed. “Guy out back said Frank already left. He sped out of here looking for some bitch that didn’t show up tonight.”
Brent’s blood ran cold. Was he going after Ella? She was just a waitress here, not involved in whatever troubles Frank had. But where the hell was she?
“Who was he looking for?” Brent asked, his voice steel.
“The fuck if I know,” the newcomer hissed.
“Then we’ll be back tomorrow,” Baldy snapped. “And double the amount he owes us.” He spit on the floor, and not even glancing at Brent, stormed toward the back door, leaving the other men to follow.
Brent clenched his fists as he watched them stomp off. He’d been worried about Ella around the paying customers. But those assholes almost made her manager look like a decent guy. Shit. He had to find her. Keep her from coming back here.
And try to fucking keep his hands to himself.
Chapter 11
Ella changed into shorts and a strappy tank top, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. After she’d spent the day hitting the pavement and frantically looking for a replacement part-time job at the restaurants around Pensacola and e-mailing out copies of her resume in hopes she could score a paying internship at a bank or finance department for the summer, she’d blown off her shift at the cocktail lounge tonight.
She felt relieved, actually. A weight had been lifted off her shoulders when she’d come to the conclusion that she was done with that place. Her boss had made her feel like crap yesterday—like some cheap woman who didn’t have any self-worth. Who’d put up with whatever a man demanded. She was ashamed she’d even let him get away with what he had—that she’d let him bare her breast and take advantage of her.
And she knew it could have been far, far worse.
Frank was madder than hell, if the number of text messages she was getting meant anything. Not to mention the nasty voicemail he’d left her. You’d think he’d be too busy running the place to waste time contacting her. Especially after she’d left him in a lurch.
The first few text messages she’d gotten this afternoon were lewd, asking if she was putting on some sexy lingerie for him to enjoy. Telling her he couldn’t wait to suck on her nipples and lick her pussy. She’d wanted to retch when reading them and had shut off her phone for a couple of hours. Then when she’d finally gotten the nerve to turn it on again? More angry texts, demanding to know why she was late for her shift. Saying she owed him money for the tray of drinks she’d spilled on her shift. That her last chance was to spend the night with him.
He’d always been skeevy in the past, leering at her and Brianna, but this? It went far beyond anything she was willing to put up with. Far beyond any normal boss-employee relations.
She’d lose out on the money she should’ve earned from last night’s shift, but she wasn’t going back. Ever.
Grabbing her keys and the last of her cash, she headed out the door to pick up some groceries. Her cupboards were mostly bare after a week away, and with her job hunt all day, she hadn’t had the time to get anything yet. She’d scrounged up change for a cup of black coffee and plain bagel this morning, but since then? She hadn’t eaten a thing.
She locked the door as she exited her garden style apartment and walked toward the stairs. A light breeze blew through the open walkway, and she felt remarkably light for a change. First thing tomorrow, she was changing her phone number. No more messages from Frank meant half of her problems were gone. Okay, so not half, she thought to herself. There was still the whole money thing. The paying her student loans and having enough money for food. But she’d gotten a crappy paying part-time job down by the beach and applied for a new credit card. It wasn’t ideal, paying for things on credit, but what choice did she have? It would be for emergencies only.
And tonight? She’d stretch her dollar at the store, buying basics to hopefully make it through the next week. And her first paycheck from her new job. Thankfully she’d be starting in the middle of a pay cycle and wouldn’t have to wait two weeks for a paycheck. And she’d have to call the bank, asking for an extension on next month’s student loan payment. Anything was worth never having to see Frank again.
Her stomach rumbled, and she felt a little lightheaded as she walked along, wishing she’d stopped to eat something during the day. Splurging on lunch out hadn’t been an option when she needed the money to last an entire week. Right now enjoying something as simple as peanut butter and jelly for dinner sounded like heaven.
She turned the corner at the stairwell, ready to head to the parking lot, and screamed as a large hand suddenly landed on her shoulder. It was heavy and huge, and she jumped a foot in the air, her heart racing as it tightened.
“Ella,” Brent’s deep voice ground out from behind her.
Jesus Christ.
She’d turn around and yell at Brent if she wasn’t so relieved it was just him. Maybe Frank still had her more on edge than she wanted to admit. She took a deep breath and finally turned to face him, trembling as pent up adrenaline and fear raced through her. An array of emotions crossed his face—anger, concern, relief. Tiny crinkles lined his ice blue eyes, and the dark scruff on his jaw might’ve made him look sexy as hell—if she wasn’t still fuming at him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, pulling away. “You scared me to death!”
“Fucking hell, you’re shaking,” he said, his eyes running up an
d down her body as he appraised her. He reached out a hand, and she jerked away. “I thought you heard me behind you.”
“You just grabbed me! What do you expect? Ever hear of speaking up? Maybe calling my name before you grab hold of my shoulder? You were sneaking up behind me like some kind of stalker or something.”
Anger flared in his eyes. “Well maybe you should be more aware of your surroundings!” he snapped.
She flinched back, and surprise etched across his face. “Shit. I’m making a bigger fucking mess of things,” he muttered, running a hand over his short cropped hair. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” His eyes slid over her again, making her insides go molten all of a sudden. The cargo pants and dark blue tee shirt he had on did amazing things for his body—all bulging muscles and hard lines. And she knew what his hard body had felt like moving over hers—and what it had felt like as he’d pulled away. Walked out the door.
She crossed her arms, glaring at him.
His gaze landed on her upper arm, and she froze. In her haste to leave, she’d forgotten to cover the bruise with make-up. Or to change into a top that would conceal it butter. Her face flamed as shame and embarrassment filled her.
“Who did this to you?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. His voice deadly.
A thousand excuses flew through her mind, but none of them sounded legit. Or in any way believable. And none of them would appease the massive, angry-as-hell SEAL standing in front of her. A man who looked like he wanted to murder whoever had touched her.
“It’s nothing.”
“You have bruises on your arm shaped like fingers. Who. Did. This.”
***
Anger seethed inside Brent at the thought of another man touching Ella. Grabbing her. Hurting her. Whoever the hell had grabbed her arm had squeezed so hard they’d marked her. Left bruises on her tender skin. Probably made her cry out in pain.
And she was fucking his.
His to protect. His alone to kiss and touch and caress. To pleasure. To make cry out, but only in ecstasy.
Fat tears began to slide down her cheeks, and Brent stood watching. Helpless. He’d flown out on ops all over the goddamn world, taken men’s lives with the pull of a trigger, without a second thought, but the sight of her in tears nearly crushed him. She looked so small and scared at the moment—too thin in that little top and shorts she had on. Too fragile with marks on her slender arm. And the man who had done this to her was going to fucking pay.
Suddenly, his stomach dropped. What if there were other bruises he couldn’t see? On her stomach or ribs or…on her inner thighs as a man had held her down. Raped her. Done other unspeakable things.
He was at her side in two seconds, wrapping her up in his arms. Needing to hold her as much as she needed him. “It’s okay,” he soothed, his lips at her ear. Her slender frame collapsed into his, and he tightened his hold on her. “I’ll protect you. No one will hurt you. Ever. But tell me who did this, Ella, because I’ll fucking rip their arms off with my bare hands.”
She trembled, clutching onto him, burying her face in his neck. “It was—”
She was cut off by another gut-wrenching sob, and Brent was torn between holding her and wanting to race off and beat the shit out of whoever did this. No doubt her asshole of a manager had some part. She’d been back in Florida one fucking day, back on her shift at the cocktail lounge, according to Brianna, and this is what happened? Either that prick or some other bastard had touched her.
Icy dread snaked through him.
Thank fuck he’d flown down here. The rest of his team had thought he was bat-shit crazy chasing after Ella, but after seeing this? The alternative wasn’t something he wanted to consider.
“Ella, sweetheart. Are you hurt anywhere else?”
Shit. When did he gently ask a woman questions? He gave commands. Demanded answers. But with her? Seeing her in pain was about to bring him to his knees.
“No,” she finally mumbled, and he exhaled a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding.
“Let’s go inside. Then you’re going to tell me exactly what happened. And I’m going to fucking murder someone.”
She pulled away from him, wiping her eyes. “I’m right down the hall,” she said, her voice shaking. She turned away and took a step, then swayed slightly to the side.
“Shit,” he said, his arm snaring her around the waist. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I just didn’t eat much today,” she said, her hand rising to her forehead. She shook her head, as if trying to clear it. “I was on my way to the store to pick up some food.”
“Why didn’t you eat?” he asked incredulously.
“I had a bagel this morning,” she said lightly.
“And the rest of the day?” he demanded, following right at her heels as they moved back down the hall. She’d slipped from his embrace as he’d looked down at her in disbelief, but he wasn’t letting her out of his sight without some answers.
It was dark out, and he could just make out a few palm trees swaying in the breeze, lit by the streetlamps in the parking lot. The warm night air felt ripe with tension—but was that because of Ella or some other sort of trouble that was brewing? His Glock was still tucked safely in the back of his pants. And he wouldn’t hesitate for a split second to use it if needed.
“I was busy looking for a new job. It must’ve just slipped my mind.”
His jaw tightened as she unlocked the door to her apartment. She was being evasive, and they both knew it.
The door swung open, and his eyes ran over the small studio as he stepped inside. Her bed was tucked back in the corner, the lavender bedspread pulled neatly up. There was a small white table with two chairs off to one side of the room. Her laptop. A basic dresser. Kitchen area. And not much else.
Good God.
If he opened her fridge and cupboards, would those be bare? There was nothing on her countertops. No food. No carryout containers. No plates or utensils. She’d quit her job a few weeks ago, that night he’d first met her. Had she just been barely scraping by all this time? Why hadn’t she asked Brianna for help?
“Home sweet home,” Ella said. He felt a strange sort of masculine pride at being in her personal space. His eyes roamed to her bed again. Ella’s bed. Shit. This wasn’t the time to be thinking with his dick. His gaze flicked back toward her, and his eyes narrowed at how pale she was.
“You need to eat something.”
“Right. I don’t have much here….”
“I’ll take care of it.” He pulled out his phone, quickly texting Matthew. Brianna would have Ella’s address, and she could order whatever groceries she thought Ella would need. Brent would foot the bill, but shit. Almost passing out from lack of food? Not gonna happen on his watch. He’d take Ella to the damn store himself if he wasn’t about to track down the asshole that left her arm black and blue.
He tucked his phone back into his pocket and glanced around again, realizing the entire place smelled like Ella—fragrant. Sweet. Good. He could tell she was still pissed at him though, judging from the way she watched him with hands on both hips. Her ire would have to wait—because as soon as she said a name, he was out of here.
Tracking that motherfucker down.
“Tell me what happened.”
She looked startled for a moment but quickly recovered. “It doesn’t matter,” she said quietly.
“It matters to me. If someone is hurting you, I want to know about it. If you’re scared, I want you to tell me. If you’re frightened of someone, I’ll protect you. And if you tell me who did this, I’ll be out of your hair this instant, because I’m going to fucking kill them. Now start at the beginning.”
Ella looked uncomfortable. “Frank said he’d give me my old job back.”
“Yeah. Got that part.”
“But he wanted…he said….” Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, and it took every ounce of Brent’s strength not to go to her. She needed to get this out. To tell him what happened.
> “I thought I could handle Frank, but I was in way over my head. He wanted to see me outside of work. Told me that I had to sleep with him. I told him no, and he threatened to take my job away. Some of my student loans fell through for next year, so I was desperate. I told him I wouldn’t sleep with him, but I guess he thought he could pressure me. He said he wanted a kiss.”
“And the bruises?”
“He, uh, grabbed me in the hall last night.”
“At work?” Rage burned through him.
“Yes. I came out of the bathroom, and he was pissed that I’d dropped an entire tray of drinks. The guys at the table were total assholes and deserved it. I was going to quit right then and there. But Frank followed me into the back hall. He grabbed my arm and wouldn’t let me go.” Ella sniffed, her watery gaze meeting his. “Then he made me go down the hall to his office.”
Brent wanted to wretch. To spew everything he’d eaten all day long. Because nothing terrified him more than someone hurting her. “Did he force you?” he asked, his voice steel.
Ella shook her head, wiping away the tears streaming down her face. Unable to resist any longer, Brent strode across the room, once again collecting her into his arms. She exhaled, burying her face into his chest, and he wanted to roar in approval at the rightness of having Ella in his arms. At holding her close. Keeping her safe. Despite the rage burning through him, she was here. She was all right.
“What happened in his office?” he demanded, trying to keep his voice steady.
It would kill him. It would just fucking kill him if that bastard had touched her.
“He said he wanted a kiss,” she whispered.
“So you kissed him.” His gut churned.
“No. He grabbed the top of my dress and pulled it down,” she said, choking out a sob. “He pushed me against the wall—”
Her voice broke off, and Brent held her tighter. Brushed his lips over the top of her head. Forced himself to remain cool.
Protected by a SEAL (Alpha SEALs, Book 6) Page 12
