by Marie James
Chapter 30
Hayden
My body is trembling, the gunshot echoing in my head as I clutch my own stomach in pain. My heart pounds in my ears, silencing every other sound.
The touch to my arm makes me scream, but when I spin my head around, it isn’t a man with a gun but Quinten looking down at me from the side of the bed with pain in his eyes.
“Hayden? Baby, it was bad dream.”
I inch away from him, struggling to separate the two realities. The dream was so real, the pain I felt enough to take my breath away, and yet it wasn’t. It was all in my head even though I can feel the burn from the bullet still in my gut.
“He shot me,” I sob. “He pulled the trigger before I could.”
“A nightmare. Come here.”
I don’t hesitate crawling in his lap like a child when he urges me forward. I wrap my arms around his neck wondering why he was gone in the first place. Then I remember that I came in here alone. Everything felt so awkward when I saw him in the kitchen earlier.
I don’t date, he told me before rocking my world with his mouth then his cock. I went into that situation knowing nothing would come of it, and here I am putting him in another situation where he’s forced to act as my guardian when it’s something he doesn’t want.
He holds me tighter, his lips against the top of my head, as my tears begin to fall.
“I’ve got you, Hayden. You’re safe here. Just relax.”
He rocks slightly, the motion both soothing and destabilizing. I should be stronger. I should feel all I am woman hear me roar because I defended myself today, but I don’t feel an ounce of that. I feel drained and empty. I feel discouraged and idiotic. I feel like he doesn’t want me because I’m weak and powerless.
And yet, I feel whole for the first time in a long time while I’m in his arms.
“Get some rest, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”
I curl my fingers against the warm skin of his chest, take a deep breath letting his scent invade my mind, and I drift off to sleep. The nightmare that was powerful enough to leave me cold and broken doesn’t bother me again.
***
If there were ever a sight in this world I’d want to get used to, it would be Quinten shirtless standing in his kitchen. His tan skin is a stark contrast to the mostly white décor, his dark beard making his eyes shine the brightest blue I’ve ever seen.
His smile matches mine when he notices me, and I’ll be damned if he doesn’t do one of those sneaky flexes I’ve noticed men do around Parker to accentuate the muscles in his stomach.
Blame it on my hormones or the restful sleep I got last night in his arms, but I don’t look away from him as I cross the room.
“Pulling out the big guns?” I tease as I reach for a cup in the cabinet, frowning when I notice everything is shoved to the back of the shelf. There’s literally no way for me to reach what I need.
I look over my shoulder, noticing a smile he tries to hide behind his own cup of coffee.
“Did you move all of this?”
He shrugs. “Maybe I want you to need me.”
More like I need him to want me—for more than a quick romp between the sheets.
“Can you grab me a coffee mug, Mr. Tree?”
He chuckles, placing his own cup on the counter before closing the distance between us.
“You can get it yourself,” he says, close enough that I can feel the heat of his body against my back. Goosebumps race down my arms and tighten my nipples in the most delicious way.
I open my mouth to argue, but he wraps his huge hands around my hips and lifts me. I freeze, suspended in front of him before I realize his intent and reach my hand to the back of the cabinet to grab a mug. The glide back down to the floor has my back and ass running the length of his front. He groans, and I nearly lose it when I feel his erection press against me. I want to stay pinned against him for eternity, and that thought really stresses me out. Wanting something I can’t have is painful, a blow not only to my ego but to my self-esteem as well. Regardless of how things end between us, I want to enjoy the ride as long as I can.
“Quinten,” I whimper as he releases me, but when I turn around to suggest we do something about that problem in his sweats, he’s walking out of the room.
“We’re heading to the police station in an hour. I’m glad you’re in a better mood.”
I’m left standing in the kitchen, no longer needing a cup of coffee to wake me up.
Was he teasing?
Does he want me to follow him to his room?
Is a good time all he sees me as?
I hate being this unsure about everything.
I’m ready in forty-five minutes, but it’s the full hour before Quinten reappears from his bedroom. When he does, he barely makes eye contact, even though his hand finds my lower back on the way to the elevator. He stands at my back like a massive guardian on the ride down and I’m so focused on the heat of that huge hand that I don’t notice the other person in the garage.
“Parker,” Quinten says, forcing my eyes up.
My brows furl as I see my best friend unlocking her car.
“Hey. What’s going on?”
“I… umm… I was coming to see you, but I just got called in early for work.”
Quinten chuckles, a low rumble from his chest making me realize that he’s pressed to my back with his arm around my lower stomach.
“Coming to see me?” I know immediately it’s another lie. Her hair is a mess, finger-combed instead of brushed to sleek perfection like usual. Her clothes are wrinkled, making it pretty evident that this is probably the second day she’s been wearing them. Her eyes are tired, unfocused, and refusing to meet mine head-on.
Parker loves to have a good time and I begin to wonder if she’s in trouble. If she’s using drugs or tangled up with a married man or something as equally morally questionable.
“After what happened yesterday…” she says. “Are you okay?”
“What? But I didn’t—”
Her phone starts to ring. “I have to go, Hayden. I’ll call you later.”
In a blink, she’s pulling out of the parking spot and driving away.
“That was weird,” I mutter, my eyes looking up at the number space she was in. “I’ll tell her that these spots are reserved. I don’t want whoever is in number twelve-ten to have her towed if she parks there again.”
Quinten chuckles again as he guides me to his truck. “I get the feeling he wouldn’t mind.”
I turn my head to ask who it is, but then his hands are back on me, his fingers lingering in a way that nearly leaves me breathless as he lifts me into the cab. He lingers in the open doorway. His mouth is so close and level with mine and I lean in closer when he begins to close the distance. If the man is toying with me, trying to get me revved up for another round back at his condo, it’s working. My body is fully on board. My mind is the only thing I can’t get right. I’d give myself over to him fully if I had any assurances that being with me for more than sex was what he wants.
“Seatbelt, Hayden,” he says, right before I hear the click of it sliding into place.
“Right,” I all but pant as he steps away.
The man is seriously driving me crazy. My body doesn’t know which end is up.
The ride to the police station is quiet, the only sounds are the world happening around us. Neither of us reach for the radio buttons or open our mouths to make small talk.
We walk into the police department, me a little timid and scared, him with so much confidence people don’t even look his way because he has the air of belonging around him.
The woman at the front counter smiles, her eyes trailing from his face and starting to angle lower when he clears his throat.
He’s succinct in his request for a police officer I’ve never heard of, which isn’t a surprise because I don’t make a habit of needing police help. The only personal interaction I’ve had with the police was when my house was broken into.
The officer, or detective I should say with the way he’s dressed—more business casual than in uniform—walks up to him and shakes his hand.
“Hayden, this is Detective Jason Augley. Augley, Hayden Prescott.”
He shakes my hand as well, and I don’t miss Quinten’s eyes on the contact as if he’s trying to judge the man’s intent through the two business-like pumps before releasing me.
“Follow me.”
Dutifully, Quinten and I follow the detective through the building until we get to a small, sterile-looking room.
“This can’t be done somewhere more comfortable?” Quinten asks the second he gets a look at the interrogation room.
My hands begin to shake, and once again I wonder how much trouble I’m in. I know people can’t just get away with shooting others.
“Do you plan to sit in while I talk to her?” Detective Augley asks in a bored tone as if he already knows the answer.
“Of course,” Quinten snaps. “Is there a reason you don’t—”
Augley holds his hands up as a laugh slips past his lips. “My office is the size of a postage stamp, Lake. We wouldn’t fit in there. Have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re fu—freaking big, man. I’m just looking out for your comfort.” The detective turns to look at me. “I’m just taking your statement. You’re not in trouble or in custody. You’re free to leave at any time. If at any point you feel uncomfortable, just say so.”
I give the man a nod and a weak smile. Even with his assurance, I still feel like a criminal as we enter the room and take our seats.
“First, we’re going to talk about what happened. After, I can either have you write it down for your statement, or I can have one of the clerks type it up from the tape and you can come back and sign it.”
“Whichever you prefer,” I offer, trying to be helpful, but the very last thing I want to do is show up here twice.
“Handwritten is always best,” Detective Augley says. “Now, let’s get started.”
He asks questions and I answer, just like I thought was going to happen, but he doesn’t take an accusatory tone or try to catch me in a lie. I relay exactly what happened, and I’m doing well until I have to talk about the moment the guy’s gun came out. I’m unable to get through that part without shaking and keeping my eyes dry.
Quinten clasps my hand in his but remains silent. He doesn’t try to interject or tell me to breathe when I get a little out of sorts at the end, and that brings me more comfort than he could possibly know. He doesn’t discount my emotions. He lets me feel them, lets me work my way through them.
“All done?” Augley asks as he steps back into the room. He gave me time to write my statement.
I sign my name at the bottom with him showing me how to initial in different spots so nothing can be added to the document later.
“I can’t tell you much about the investigation, but please know that we haven’t apprehended everyone involved. I highly suggest not returning to your house until we do.”
“Okay.”
“If that’s a problem, the Feds can arrange a safe house for—”
“She’s staying with me,” Quinten snaps, his arm going around my back once again.
Augley smiles. “And that’s probably the safest house in the city.”
Tell that to my heart.
“Thank you for your time,” I tell him.
“If you remember anything else or have questions…” Augley says, handing me his business card.
I take it and nod, letting Quinten guide me out of the police station.
Chapter 31
Quinten
“That was exhausting,” Hayden mutters once we’re both inside my truck.
“I need to run by the office to take care of a few things, but I can drop you off back at—”
“I’d love to see where you work,” she says, a tiny smile playing on her lips.
I get distracted at the sight of them until I have to clear my throat when I realize I’m staring.
“It won’t take long,” I assure her as I pull into traffic.
“Will Jude be there? Or Wren?”
I clench my jaw. “Probably both. Why?”
I see her shrug from the corner of my eye as my hands tighten on the steering wheel. “It’s just more comfortable to be around people I’ve already met.”
I relax a little, but that doesn’t stop my mind from wandering back to the night at the bar and Parker trying hard to get Jude and Hayden to notice each other in a romantic way. The woman flirted with me all damned night, and I couldn’t see anyone else but the woman in my truck right now. In truth, I haven’t been able to see anyone since she gave me attitude over the phone when I called to welcome her back to class along with her flirty friend.
Something shifted recently because I have Hayden with me, and Parker’s car was in Jude’s spare spot this morning in the garage. I make a point to ask my best friend just what the hell is going on when I get a chance, but that concern is secondary to the woman with me now.
“This office is filled with a group of characters,” I warn after opening the passenger door for her. “They’re probably going to give me a hard time.”
“For what?” she asks, her hands automatically going to my shoulders when I reach to help her out of my truck.
“Could be anything but know that we’re family. Blackbridge is home, and even though I may want to throttle them on occasion, I trust each of them with my life. You can do the same.”
She nods, her fingers toying with the tiny hairs at the base of my skull as I lift her out of the truck. I’m reluctant to release her, but I get the feeling she wouldn’t be okay with me carrying her into the office.
My heart warms when she doesn’t hesitate to tangle her fingers with mine when I reach for her. Who knew something as casual as holding her hand would make my heart race and my cock thicken?
I’m making a statement walking into the office with her like this. I’m declaring something before I even have all the answers, and I pray as we climb onto the elevator that I don’t end up eating crow.
“Pam, this is Hayden Prescott. Hayden, Pam. She runs the office, and we wouldn’t survive without her.”
Pam offers my girl a quick smile, but then the phone rings, and she gets back to work.
“Know that Brooks flirts with anything that breathes,” I mutter to her as we head toward the breakroom. “And don’t be fooled by Finnegan’s accent.”
“Okay,” she says with a slight chuckle. “Is it British? I totally have a thing for British accents.”
I look down at her, smiling at the teasing glint in her eyes. “Flynn is the one with a British accent. Finnegan is Irish.”
“You’re safe then,” she says.
“Good to know.” I give her fingers a little squeeze as we enter the room. Conversation stops when we step inside. “Don’t any of you assholes actually work around here?”
Ignacio looks up, smiling, and it makes me realize I haven’t seen him in a while. I give him a little nod, a way of telling him we need to catch up and a lot has happened in the last two months. He nods back in understanding.
“Everyone, this is Hayden Prescott. Hayden,” I sweep my arm out to indicate all the smiling assholes in the room, “this is everyone.”
“What this idiot means,” Brooks says as he stands from the sofa and crosses the room, “is I’m Brooks Morgan.”
I barely stifle a growl when he bends down and tries to kiss the back of her hand. I don’t know if it’s for my benefit, but she yanks her hand back before his lips can meet her skin.
“Would you stop?” Jude snaps, popping his hand against the back of Brooks’s head. But then he gets close to signing his own death warrant when he steps up to Hayden and wraps his arms around her. “How are you doing?”
She lets this happen, and I smile when she gives him a few awkward pats on the back, her eyes looking in my direction filled with questions.
“I’m good,” she answ
ers when Jude takes a step back.
“Hayden!” Wren yells from across the room because of course he has to be the center of attention.
Hayden screeches, ducking low when Puff Daddy flies out of Wren’s office, swooping low toward her before landing on the back of one of the couches.
“Hey, baby,” he squawks, his wings spreading wide to show himself off.
“Stop,” Kit says, swatting at the bird.
“Listen here fucker,” Puff says as he spins around to face Kit. “I’ll eat your fucking eyes. I swear I will!”
Kit shakes his head before looking at Hayden. “I’m Kit. This asshole is Puff Daddy.”
“I can introduce myself,” the bird says. “Come here, pretty lady. Let Daddy get a look at you.”
A wide grin spreads across her face, and once again the damn bird is able to charm someone of the fairer sex.
“This explains so much,” she whispers as she continues to watch the strutting bird. “After what I heard last night, I thought Wren had a weird—”
“I fucking told you about keeping it down,” I hiss at Wren, having a pretty good clue what Hayden heard coming from their apartment last night.
“Sorry,” Wren mutters.
“What happened to his—” She points as if she doesn’t want to offend the bird.
“Hey, lady! I’m right here. Ask me to my beak!”
Most people would take a step back at the aggression the dumb bird is showing, or they would laugh awkwardly and defer to Wren, but Hayden takes a step closer. “It’s nice to meet you, Puff Daddy. What happened to your tail feathers?”
“Just what that damn bird needs,” Flynn mutters as he walks into the room. “A captive audience.”
“You noticed?” Puff says, holding his wing over his eyes as if he’s embarrassed. “I’ve been attacked. Give me a hug. It helps with the trauma.”
Hayden opens her hands, walking closer, and I manage to grab her before she gets too close. “He’ll bite your nipple. It’s a trick.”
Her hands immediately go to her chest, making all the guys in the room laugh. Her cheeks turn bright red as she looks up at me.
“Cockblock!” Puff screams. “Come on, baby. Just a little nibble. I promise you’ll enjoy it.”
