Intimate Fear

by D. C. Stone

  He shrugged, the grin still in place.

  “Jake is still in the city, was assigned a new partner. He’s working homicides, and seems to be okay. Then again, he doesn’t really talk a whole lot, as I’m sure you remember,” Dwayne said with a glance at her. She smiled and nodded.

  “And then Luke just finished the academy in Texas for the Marshals. He’s coming home for a few weeks until he’s shipped off to his first office.”

  “Do you know where they will send him?”

  “Yeah. Looks to be the city. He’s only a few hours behind us, so you’ll see him before the others.”

  The weight came crashing down on her shoulders. “You all would do this for me? For Hailey and I?”

  * * * *

  Dwayne fought to find the answer. He didn’t want to scare her, and the words hovering on his tongue would do that. How did he tell Brooke his brothers knew exactly how he had felt about her for so long? How could he explain she was his family and by that link, a pseudo sister to his siblings? He cleared his thoughts and pushed the warnings in his mind away.

  “Why wouldn’t we help? I’d like to hear your answer before I get to yours.”

  She hesitated. “I—I don’t know. I’ve never had someone go so far to help us.”

  “Hell, sweetheart, you’re going to have to get used to it. I told you I’m intent to have you, and this is a package deal.”

  She stiffened. A subtle movement, but then again, he was a trained detective. He tried not to let it bother him, but it was difficult.

  “I know what you said, and sex is just sex. There isn’t any commitment involved. You’ve shown that to be the case time and time again. It isn’t a big secret,” she said.

  Frustration surged. So, they were back to this again. “And like I told you, you’re different. What makes you think it’s just sex?”

  She shrugged, then turned in her seat and glanced out the window, her attempt on shutting him out.

  Bull. Shit.

  “Brooke, answer me,” he urged.

  She huffed, a heavy sigh. “Because that’s all it can be.”

  She wouldn’t look at him and despite him driving the car, he wanted to reach over and shake some sense into her. Why didn’t she see it?

  “Look,” she pressed, “I get you like to have fun. And hell, being a good-looking guy who knows how to please a woman, or one that women want to please them…no one is holding that against you.”

  “You are,” he jumped in. “You are very much holding that fact against me.” He tried not to let the anger through his words, but from her wince, he failed.

  “I’m not,” she continued. “But for me, it’s different. I’ve already told you it’s hard for me to give in to a physical relationship without my heart feeling the effects. I’m not like that, and while I wish I could be, it’s just not in the cards. Moreover, you aren’t a one-woman kind of guy, Dwayne. You have never been one. So, while I’ll try to give this one side of our relationship a shot, I can’t promise anything more. Especially now, especially with everything going on with Hailey. I can’t let my heart get too wrapped up in whatever is going on, and I refuse to let you stomp on it.”

  He released her hand as if he had been smacked. Her words were like a physical blow across his face. He understood she was stressed, got the worry she had for her daughter. Lines had etched into her face in the past few days, indicators this was hard on her. However, how she saw him, how she explained who she thought he was, burned. They had been friends for so long, his affection for her almost as long. Yet, still, seeing himself as she did made him feel cheap…dirty.

  He didn’t want to press things too far with her, not now when everything was riding on the next few hours. She wouldn’t be able to handle the pressure of it all. And while he wanted nothing more than to sink inside her body, he wondered if now, after her speech and low-lying opinion of him, if he was taking the right path.

  Damn it! No way in hell he would be any use to anyone if his mind stayed tangled up in the situation he and Brooke had gotten into. It was his fault, but still…

  A scenic stop came into view and he jerked off the road, drew the car to a halt, and slammed it in park. She stared at him with wide eyes and opened her mouth, but he cut her off.

  “Get out.”

  She frowned, glancing around. “Dwayne, what?”

  “Get out of the fucking car, Brooke. We’re going to settle something right now.”

  She shrank back, and he cursed. He didn’t mean to scare her, but damn if his ego wasn’t bruised. He started to apologize, but she got out of the car and slammed the door while his mouth gaped.

  He laid his head back against the rest for a moment before he followed.

  He skirted the hood. Brooke stood against the wooden beams marking the cliff’s drop off. This high up, the valley of trees and a blue river spread out beneath them. He had been too involved in his conversation before, but the scene was majestic and glorified Mother Nature’s true gift—creating visions that made you stop and enjoy life.

  He stopped next to her, looking out across the land. Dots of deep red danced around colors of burnt orange and deeper shades of green. The river, a crisp blue that reminded him of Brooke’s eyes, turned the scene into something fresh, clean. Everything unlike what he felt in the moment.

  He turned to face her, then tugged her into his arms. She came on her own accord—thank God!—and rested her head against his chest. He wanted her here forever. Picturing the two of them growing old, raising children, and sitting in rocking chairs watching their grandbabies was easy. With her in his embrace, this was everything he sought, yet still, the wish seemed so far away. He grasped for the right words, overthought them, and decided in the end, he needed to lay it all on the line.

  “I’m not the guy you think I am,” he started.

  She stiffened and went to draw away. He tightened his grip and held her still.

  “No, wait. Let me speak.” He waited until she relaxed. “I don’t want to push you on this. I don’t want it to seem as if I’m pressuring you into doing something you don’t want. If you can’t reciprocate my feelings I have for you, then let me know now. I won’t say that I will not be disappointed. Hell, I would. And I’m not saying this just to get in your pants. This is more. Something that doesn’t come around that often. Maybe once in a lifetime. What I feel for you, Brooke, goes much deeper than a friendship. And my past shouldn’t have any bearings. I know it does, but I won’t apologize for who I am or for the decisions I have made.

  “Those women, the relationships or time I spent with each, have made me into the man I am today. I don’t regret a single moment of it. I went in to each one’s arms where both sides knew what I could and couldn’t give. Each one knew I wouldn’t be able to offer them more.

  “Does that say something about who I’ve become? Does it make me question who I want to be? Yes, of course it does. But what I feel for you has nothing on that.”

  He drew back, held her waist to him with one arm and tipped her chin up to meet his gaze with the other. Wind brushed past, sending tendrils of her hair spreading around them.

  “Don’t assume I’m that guy. I would hate to tell you you’re wrong, but I’d be glad to prove it to you.”

  She searched his eyes, pain and confusion clear for anyone to see. Damn. Fighting for something you wanted so bad shouldn’t be so hard. He wanted her to say something—anything!

  “Close your eyes,” she whispered.

  He almost missed it, but the sound pierced his ears. He frowned. “What?”

  “Close your eyes,” she said louder.

  His heart sank. She couldn’t even meet his gaze when she talked. This couldn’t be good. He gave in to her request and shut his lids, dropped his head and rested against hers. He wouldn’t make this hard on her, no matter how fucking much her dismissal would crush him.

  She shifted and something brushed against his mouth. Light, comparable to a moth’s touch. Her breath played ov
er his. She pressed her mouth to his and he sucked in a sharp gasp. He let her guide the way, allowed her to control the embrace, still too shocked to do anything else.

  Her warm tongue traced the seam of his lips, circling until he parted. Their breaths mingled. She palmed the back of his head and kissed him. Air rushed from his lungs. Her tongue pushed inside his mouth to tangle against his. The kiss was sweet, soft, slow, and sensual. It spoke the words he was unable to find earlier and said more than he thought possible.

  She was giving him a chance, communicating in the way she knew how. It hit him like a sledgehammer to his chest, driving away all thoughts but the feel of her in his arms. Her mouth fused to his, her grip steady and sure around him.

  With a sigh, he gave in and crushed her closer, pushing the kiss deeper.

  If this was all he could get for now, it would have to be more than enough.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Hours later, Dwayne sat back in the leather tub chair, arms crossed over his chest, and stared at the laptop screen. Trent, coming through like the true special agent he was, had sent mounds of information on this local club and the suspected ring inside. With an opening of, Don’t do anything until we get there, and for fuck’s sake, keep your head down, he knew the e-mail couldn’t be good.

  What followed that joyful greeting churned his stomach, caused bile to creep up the back of his throat, and had his pulse pounding behind his eyes. Fuck!

  According to the FBI, the club had been under surveillance for eight months, suspected of moving trafficked teens in and out as if they were cattle, changeovers happening faster than one could blink. So close to the shore of the Atlantic, the crew running this operation stayed under the radar and was, to quote from the report, “A highly successful operating scheme.”

  So why in the fuck hadn’t they busted the joint up yet?

  Getting behind scenes from the main club proved difficult. If the guards sniffed so much as a cop anywhere in your family’s bloodline, they turned you away. Agent upon agent, cop upon detective had tried to get back there and so far, no luck. Moreover, with the club bringing in much of the town’s revenue on taxes, the low-key residential placement, and the lack of complaints—no judge deemed it worthwhile to issue a warrant.

  Goddamn bureaucratic assholes.

  He ran his fingers through his hair, his body itching to run in and pull Hailey out now. He didn’t want to picture what must have been happening there, but after reading the report, spending the better part of an hour glued to the screen, images slammed into his mind.

  Hailey forced to have sex.

  Hailey drugged and left to fend for herself.

  Hailey so doped up she did not understand what was going on.

  Oh, how he hated to admit it, but he willed for the last to be true. He did not want her to be aware of what was going on. And if his luck changed, from everything Trent had pulled on Jaxon—she would be stoned out of her mind.

  In the time the club had been under surveillance, an approximate one hundred thousand children were suspected to have been pushed through. More so, eyewitness accounts and johns arrested put the youngest victim at thirteen. Many of these adolescents were runaways, promised love and companionship, hell, even given a few precious months in an established relationship before they were turned over. It all made sense now, the fast track of a bond with Jaxon, the aggressive and overbearing way the kid had been with Hailey, the alarm screaming in the back of Dwayne’s head anytime he saw them together.

  Why hadn’t he paid more attention?

  What kind of fucked up cop was he?

  As he read the report further, his gut churned with nausea. Another problem here was what happened after one of those victims escaped. The last one had been killed after apparently being under police custody for only thirty-six hours. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand—to think that one of his own, a brother in blue, had allowed this to happen. The writing that this cop had allowed this was as clear as the sky in the summer. And that cop was still under investigation.

  The victim, before she had been able to give a sworn statement, described to the detectives how she had been wrapped up in the scheme. Only sixteen, threatened with harm to her and her family if she didn’t comply, Jessica Garcia would sneak out of her house at night after getting a call demanding her service. With no time to change, a car would pick her up down the street and take her to a client’s home.

  Once there, she was forced to get undressed, lie on the bed and remain quiet. If a client asked her name, she had to keep silent. She was never left alone with the men, and many times her pimps stayed by her side, watching, sometimes joining in the sexual acts.

  “My legs were tied down,” the deposition read, “and the guy raped me over and over. I screamed for them to stop, tried to fight them off, but they were so strong, and I was weak. I passed out a few times and each awaking, found a new man on top of me.”

  Christ! Dwayne stood, glared at the laptop, and paced the room. He couldn’t show this to Brooke. She would freak and after the past few days, he doubted she could take much more. Arriving a little over two hours ago, they’d checked into a hotel—this time one with two queen-size beds—and she’d disappeared into the bathroom moments later.

  On one hand, he knew she was afraid to be alone with him, but on the other, he understood her need to work things through in her own way. He hadn’t held back on the drive up, refused to let her hopes get too high. The letdown, should something go wrong, would kill her. She needed to be aware of what they were dealing with. But this, the report pretty much confirmed what was happening inside the club. There was very little left to give hope to.

  A door clicked open behind him and he reached the laptop a step later and shut the lid, then turned to her.

  Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of a bath, skin dewy from the steam. Her hair fell, a sunset over the horizon, trailing in a long braid as thick as his wrist, over one shoulder. Her bright blue eyes dazzled, shone like a piece of heaven. In addition—fuck me now—all she wore was the complimentary white bathrobe with the hotel’s name over the right breast.

  Blood surged to his groin, and despite what he had read, the nightmare entrapping Hailey, he wanted Brooke.

  You are a piece of fucking work, Gonzalez.

  She glanced at his closed computer and back to him. “Have you heard anything?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet,” he lied. “Everyone should be up here by tomorrow, though, and then we can put in some more concrete plans about what we’re going to do.”

  Despair etched between her brows, drawing them together. “Tomorrow? We can’t wait. She’s there now. We’re here, so close. We have to go get her.”

  Her gaze, wild and frightened, similar to a hunted doe, speared him across the room. He crossed to her with long strides and quick steps, took ahold of her shoulders. “I know what you’re feeling, but you need to stop it. We can’t go charging in there. I’ve explained this.” Dwayne took in a deep breath and pushed it out slow, trying like hell to fight against the urge to act. He wanted to go get Hailey now, too.

  “I want to get her home as well,” he said. “But, we need to be smart, take a look at what we’re dealing with here, and size up what’s going on inside that club. From what I’ve read, it’s hard as hell to get in the back, so there’s no promise we’ll be able to do so. One way or the other, though, we’re going to get her,” he promised—and hoped like hell he could carry through.

  She drew back and pulled away from his touch. He tightened his jaw.

  “I thought you said you hadn’t heard anything,” she accused.

  Shit.

  He backpedaled, choosing each word with care. “I did get a report from Trent, yes. However, as far as a plan, no. The report is just FBI bullshit, nothing you should concern yourself with at this point.”

  Her spine stiffened. “Nothing I should concern myself with? This is my daughter.” She spoke through clenched teeth.


  His chest ached at the helplessness written across her features. He knew just how she felt. His own hands were tied and bound behind his back. Seeing things from the other side of the law, as a victim, threw a punch to his gut at how people must feel when the police couldn’t help, or even worse, refused to. He kept reminding himself things could get much worse. At least now, they had a chance, a direction to move in. Should she disappear from the club…or should she already be gone…

  Any chance in bringing her home would be lost.

  A chime echoed in the room, Brooke’s cellphone coming to life. She tore her gaze from his and gave him her back. He dropped his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose, exhaustion and frustration pulsing, changing into a throbbing mess between his eyes. He had planned to go to the club tonight, just to scope things out, but Trent’s words of caution held him back. At least for right now.

  The ringing stopped and Brooke’s voice cut through his thoughts.

  “Hello?”

  * * * *

  “Mom?”

  Brooke gasped and her heart jumped into her throat. Hailey. She sounded tired, her speech slurred, muffled, as if she held a sheet over the phone. But it was her, and she was alive. Relief, so profound and strong, surged.

  “Hails? Oh my God, baby, where are you? Are you okay? Tell me where you are, I’ll come get you.”

  Dwayne was at her side in an instant, but she didn’t look at him, couldn’t. She stared straight ahead at the white wall, trying to hear anything, something that would help her get to her daughter.

  “They left us here.” Her words rumbled out as if she was inside some tunnel. “They never leave us.”

  “Who, Hailey? Who left you? Where?”

  “I don’t—I don’t know.” Her breath hitched and it tore through Brooke’s heart. “Mommy, I want to go home. Please, come take me home.”

  Her sight grew hazy as tears stung. “Oh, baby, Mommy will come get you. Tell me where you are,” she choked.

  “I don’t know!”

  “Hey!” A distinct male voice popped in the background on the other side. Alarm spread, settling like a concrete weight in Brooke’s stomach.