Promise to Defend

by Diana Gardin

  I glance back at Olive, confusion riding me hard. “The corsage?”

  She draws a shaky breath. “It’s…” She trails off. Her eyes close, her lower lip trembling, and it feels like someone’s heated up my blood past boiling as straight-up rage fills me.

  “It’s the same one…exactly the same.” Her voice is a whisper, her eyes glazing over like she’s gone somewhere far away.

  Her lids peel back open and the look in her gaze almost wrecks me. I grab her shoulders with both hands, leaning in so I can see her eyes. Those eyes, so big in her face, so deeply blue and perfectly gorgeous, stare into mine. She’s trembling, her entire body quaking so badly that I have to put my arms around her and pull her to my chest.

  She stiffens for just a moment before relaxing into my embrace, and I rest my chin on top of her head. The feeling of her settling into my arms is indescribable. I take stock of the moment, summing up not just my body’s reaction to her, but also my mind’s. I’m about to ask her what she was talking about, what the corsage means, when the sound of sirens lifts from outside.

  “You’re okay, Red.” I whisper the words, willing her to believe them. “There’s no one here, and the police are pulling up outside now.”

  She pulls away slightly, and I feel her arms wind tentatively around my waist as she looks up at me. Damn, that feels…good. Really fucking good. “I’m not safe here, Ronin.”

  I catch her drift, and I shake my head slowly. There’s no way I’m letting her stay here, not until we figure out exactly who broke into her place and why.

  “You can stay at Jeremy’s. I’m sure they won’t mind.”

  She shakes her head slowly. “They’re on their honeymoon and I don’t have a key. More than that, this is their first family vacation with the three of them. If I call them and tell them what happened and ask to stay there, they’ll come running back to check on me. I won’t do that to them.”

  Blowing out a hard breath, I scrub a hand down my face and stare at her. She’s right, no doubt. Jeremy and Rayne would be on the next flight out if they thought Olive was in danger. His words to me at the wedding ring soundly in my mind.

  “Then you’ll come home with me.”

  The words are out of my mouth before my brain can catch up, and her eyes go wide once they register. She steps back from me, her forehead wrinkling in an adorable little frown.

  “I’m not staying with you. I’ll call…Ken.”

  Her voice drops slightly with discomfort as she says the words, and I know right then and there that she doesn’t want to call that prick any more than my name is Adam.

  I step closer to her. Keeping my voice velvety soft, I focus all of my attention on her porcelain face. “You’ll stay with me. If that sounded like a request, I’m sorry. It wasn’t.”

  Her body goes stiff and rigid as she raises herself to her full height and her arms snap to her hips. I’m pretty sure she means to be forceful and assertive but to me it just comes across as pure sex. I want to know if she’ll be that bossy and sure of herself when I lay her down on a bed.

  Her defiance is addictive. The way she wants to call the shots even though she’s obviously scared is amazing. On some subliminal level, it makes me want to be the man she doesn’t see coming. The one who makes her want to listen to me.

  With other women, when they find out that I’m ex-military, they can’t wait to submit to the obvious dominance I can’t help but display. Can’t wait to let me “protect” them. But not Olive…she wants to keep control of the situation even though I’m standing right here telling her otherwise.

  Her eyes flash as she assesses me. “Excuse me? I’m a grown woman, and I’ll decide—”

  She’s cut off by the thundering knock on the front door downstairs.

  I eye her with interested amusement, gesturing toward the bedroom doorway. “After you.”

  She spins and stalks out of the room and down the stairs, and I try really fucking hard not to chuckle as I follow. The disarray that meets us again on the way down sobers me enough to be completely serious by the time she opens the door and two officers from the WPD roll in.

  Recognition flashes in one of their expressions. “Hey, Shaw. Got a call about a two-eleven.” He scrunches his forehead, trying to figure out the reason for my presence.

  I indicate Olive. “She’s a friend of mine. This is Miss Alexander’s home. When she came home to find it…decorated, she called me first.”

  The officer, a uniform named Briggs, nods in understanding. He turns kind eyes on Olive. “Miss? Can you give us a list of what was taken during the break-in?”

  Olive leads the officers into the great room. “We’ve been through the entire house and I haven’t noticed anything missing at all.”

  My mind flashes back to each room of the house. “Doesn’t seem like this was a robbery.”

  She glances at me, murmuring her assent as Briggs begins jotting things down on his pad. We lead both officers through the home as they thoroughly check each room to assess what’s wrong and take note of everything they see. When they’re finished, we stand in the entryway once more.

  “Miss Alexander.” Briggs glances at her. “This was obviously personal. You have no idea who would have broken in just to leave you flowers?”

  Her face drains of color, a helpless expression crossing her face as she glances around at the disarray in her home. “I…no.”

  Briggs nods. “Do you have another place to stay until we get this sorted out?”

  Her reaction scares the shit out of me in a way I can’t explain. My heart pounds as I step closer, ready to catch her if her legs give out. She’s seconds away from crumbling, and I keep my gaze trained on her as I speak to Briggs. “She’s going to stay with me until this gets figured out. Keep me updated with your progress on the case, okay? Until then, contact Olive on her cell or through me. I’ll send you all of the numbers.”

  I hear Olive take a deep, shuddering breath behind me, and it’s my cue to shove both police officers out the front door.

  When I close it behind them, I turn to her, ready to take her into my arms. But Olive has straightened herself up and is striding down the hallway. She disappears for a moment, and when she returns she’s holding a box of large trash bags. Her face is a mask of determination, and she whips a bag from the box and shakes it open, starting to shove trash inside.

  “Olive?” My voice is quiet.

  She glances up at me but doesn’t pause in her task. “Yeah?”

  I approach her the way I would a wounded, wild animal. The last thing I expected her to want to do is clean up this mess right now. “Are you sure you want to do this now? I mean, we can hire someone…or come back tomorrow after you’ve had a minute to process this.”

  She stares at me, her expression so blank I know she had to wipe it deliberately clean. I have years of experience with doing just that. “I can’t leave my house like this, Ronin. I need to clean it up and I need to do it now.”

  The strength of this woman…Jesus Christ.

  The only clue that she’s not truly all the way okay is the very small tremor on the last couple of words. And I know that this is important to her; this is the way she’s going to process and heal and function. So I grab a bag from the box and help her work through the house room by room, setting everything right again and cleaning up the flower petals that have invaded her space.

  She’s hyperfocused on the task, and sometimes I glance over at her to see her biting her lip while she concentrates on something especially tedious or her nose wrinkling as though the flowers disgust or disappoint her. As I’m tying up the last trash bag, she sighs and drops to the edge of the bed. Her expression is weary, her eyes slightly glazed.

  Setting the bag down on the carpeted floor, I stride over to stand beside her. “Hey. It’s going to be okay.”

  She nods mutely.

  “You want to throw some things in a bag for my place?”

  Finally, she slides her gaze to mine. Hers
becomes steely and resolute, the expression that seems to represent the core of Olive’s personality. She and Rayne are so different. I got to know her sister while Jeremy and the rest of the team protected her from the psycho ex-employer who stalked her from Phoenix, and even though both Alexander women are tough as nails, Olive wears her strength in a much different way. She’s a little more subtle, more refined. She’s frostier, more aloof. The loosest I’ve ever seen her was when she danced and played with Decker at the wedding. It allowed me to know that there’s a softer side to the woman, maybe even a melted center, but it’s not something she shows to outsiders.

  She stands, wrapping her arms around her stomach. “Yes. I’ll do that.”

  It’s like she’s startled she didn’t think of it first.

  I give her a nod. “I’ll take the last bag downstairs and you can join me when you’re ready to go.”

  My last glance is of her staring into her closet with a determined expression just before I walk out her bedroom door.

  7

  Olive

  If I’m being honest, there were a couple times when I pictured where Ronin lives.

  I haven’t spent much time around the man at all, but he’s not the kind of guy you can just forget about once you’ve met him. The intensity in those gorgeous sage-green eyes. All of that bronzed, taut skin stretched over miles of rock-hard muscles. And the way he carries himself is…gulp-worthy. He oozes power and sexiness, moving like a panther with coiled-up energy ready to strike at any moment. And now that he’s basically come to my rescue, I can add “Ronin protecting me from all the scary things in my life” to my seemingly endless list of fantasies about this man.

  He’s not the kind of guy who fits into my very small, very planned-out comfort zone. But he’s apparently the kind of guy I fantasize about.

  Walking into his condo, I gaze around me in wonder because it isn’t at all what I would have expected. Ronin lives near the top of a really large building. It’s the kind of place with a glossy front lobby and amenities galore: fitness center, pool, rooftop deck. The unit is large and wide open, with modern fixtures and sparse decor. As soon as I walk in the front door I can see straight through to the wall of glass at the back of the living room and my attention is drawn there.

  Ronin closes the front door behind us. He sets my bag down on the gray marble tile and leads me down the short hallway leading to the wide-open great room. “This is my place.”

  I twirl in a slow circle, my designer’s eye finding points of interest at various spots in the space. The high ceilings. The mosaic tile fireplace surround. The contrasting colors of white natural stone countertops paired beside navy blue shaker cabinets in the kitchen.

  “It’s beautiful, Ronin.”

  A half smirk indicates the pleasure my compliment brings him and he lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Thanks.”

  I decide to distract myself from this horrific night by focusing on the beauty of his home. “Was it a new build? Did you get to pick the finishes yourself?”

  He nods and I give the room one more appreciative sweep with my gaze. Who would have thought a man like Ronin Shaw would have a good eye for design?

  The whole space is done so well. Where I expect to see black or brown leather sofas and chairs, there’s actually a really lovely white sectional sofa and a driftwood coffee table. I walk over to it, running my hands along the wood. “This is handcrafted.”

  I glance at Ronin, who’s still standing in the mouth of the entry hall and am met with his nod of confirmation. “Worked on it with Jeremy. He’s got a workshop in the back of his house.”

  My surprised gaze is stuck on the man before me. I’m seeing him in a completely different light than I had before, and it’s unnerving. Sharp tingles of interest and attraction sizzle along my skin and a very clear line of tension pulls tight between us as he stares back.

  Clearing my throat, I look away and walk toward the wall of glass. It’s late, and there are no city lights in sight, which lets me know that this balcony must overlook the ocean. Glancing back at Ronin, I indicate the slider. “May I?”

  Crossing the room, he unlocks the door and pulls it open. I step out onto the balcony and the rush of the waves to kiss the sand gives me an instant feeling of serenity like I’ve never felt before.

  I grew up here in Wilmington, so the beach is nothing new to me. It’s never really been anything to marvel at either, in my opinion. But for the first time, here on Ronin’s dark balcony, all the best parts of the sea hit me at once: the salty, fresh air, the lulling sound of ocean against shore, the enormous sense of something bigger than you making a place like this possible.

  I sigh, walking up to the railing and resting my hands on top of the metal. In the dark of the night I can make out the different shades of black marking the horizon, the sea, and the sand, and a feeling of utter peace washes over me.

  This isn’t at all like the security I’ve surrounded myself with in my little suburban community with friendly neighbors and a perfectly ordered home. This isn’t a white picket fence and a manicured lawn. No, this sense of home is completely different and I can’t for the life of me understand how I can feel so perfectly comfortable here. It’s wilder, freer, more wide-open and unpredictable.

  Four things I avoid at all costs.

  I close my eyes and just listen to the sea.

  I feel Ronin as he steps up beside me, his presence unmistakable and almost tangible in this place especially. His place.

  Neither of us speaks for several moments. But then his voice rumbles across the bit of distance between us and I shiver.

  “Everything makes more sense out here, doesn’t it?”

  Opening my eyes, I turn my head and take him in. He’s leaning against the railing on his forearms, his big hands clasped. His heat pulses into the air around us, warming me from the inside out. I suck in a breath and exhale slowly, trying to calm my galloping heartbeat.

  “I never thought so before…but right now? Yes. I’m at peace.” I swallow around the words. I’m uncomfortable, because I don’t know exactly how much of that peace comes from the ocean, and how much of it comes from the man standing beside me.

  He turns to face me. The scrutiny in his expression is clear. “You never thought the ocean was peaceful before?”

  Shaking my head, I think about how I can explain it. “Not really. Too wild.”

  Ronin’s head cocks to one side. “But the sea is one of the most predictable things on the planet. It might be wild, but it’s also tame in that way.”

  “I’ve never thought about it like that before.”

  But Ronin is absolutely right.

  We spend a few more minutes at peace before Ronin pushes off the railing and gestures toward the slider. “Let me show you the guest room. It’s late. You must be exhausted.”

  Neglecting to point out that he’s right—I am tired—but I don’t want to be alone, I follow him back inside the condo and down the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. He opens a door on the right and enters, my bag clutched in one of his hands. Sparing a quick glance for the closed door on the right, I follow him inside and smile at the cool, calm blues that surround me. The bed is big and inviting, and I suddenly feel the need to curl up in the center of it and completely cover myself. Shield myself from the world outside while in the safety of Ronin’s home.

  If I have to be alone right now, I’m glad it’s here.

  The thought startles me enough that my eyes find Ronin, who’s watching me. He’s set my suitcase down on the bed, and he’s evaluating me while I stare around the room.

  “You thinking about what happened tonight?”

  Glancing away from him, I study the floor at my feet. “I just…when I woke up this morning, this wasn’t how I pictured the day ending.”

  Ronin folds his arms across his chest. “You’re gonna be okay, Red.”

  Lifting my head, I see his belief in me so clearly. “How do you know that?”

  He gives a
small shake of his head. For a second, confusion flickers across his handsome face. “Because you’ve got real strength inside of you. Anyone would be stupid to underestimate that.”

  I swallow, looking for any sign that he didn’t mean what he just said. But there’s nothing but truth staring back at me. I suck in a breath, wondering if the way he see me is what’s really inside, or if it’s just the facade I put on. I’m only as strong as the control I hold, and right now it feels like that’s slipping away.

  “I’m going to let you get settled. If you need anything, Red, just holler.”

  He doesn’t move.

  Staring at his chiseled face, I’m struck by how beautiful he is. He’s a huge, solid wall of what can only be described as everything masculine, but there’s a hard beauty there just the same.

  I try to put into words how I’m feeling. “Thank you, Ronin. This is…you didn’t have to let me stay here. I appreciate it more than you know.”

  His expression holds a thousand secrets, and I can’t begin to guess at any of them. “Yeah…well…I don’t mind. Jeremy’s like my brother. And that makes Rayne family, too.”

  I drop my gaze. The fact that he’s helping me out of obligation to my sister and her husband shouldn’t sting, but it does. It really, really does.

  Ronin turns to leave, and my mouth blurts out the question before my mind can stop it. “Where’s your room?”

  He pauses, still facing the door. It takes a beat for him to answer me. “Right across the hall.”

  Right across the hall.

  The thought is ridiculously comforting and insanely terrifying at the same time.

  Ronin shuts the door quietly behind him, and I turn to my suitcase. There’s a bathroom adjoining this bedroom, and I can see some of what’s inside through the open doorway. It’s been such a long, draining night that the bathtub is calling my name.