Brock found a parking spot, pulled in and turned off the truck, shifting around in his seat to face her. “I’m here because you’re here. I’m here for you. Now, let’s go.”
***
Brock fucking hated parties. And a party where he didn’t know a soul and wanted to kick the living shit out of a cop in attendance was certainly not high up on his list either. His hand fell to the small of Krista’s back, and he instantly felt calmer. Feeling her beneath his palm, no matter how slight, grounded him.
It also scared him.
Since the moment that littlethump thumpheartbeat had echoed around the small ultrasound room, Brock felt differently around Krista. His protective instinct was all-consuming, for both her and the baby, but he was also feeling other things. He loved the fact that she liked his cooking. He’d never cooked for anybody but himself before, and although he liked what he made, he was nervous if other people would too. But Krista devoured everything he made, humming contentedly to herself and closing her eyes with a sultry little tilt to her lips as she ate his creations. Some days he’d pull her laundry out of the dryer and catch himself smiling at the brightly colored socks with animal prints that fell out. She definitely had a thing for cats.
More than anything, though, it was the way she’d clung to him. Thrown herself into his arms when he’d barely made it to the top of stairs and cried on his chest. She’d needed him. Needed his comfort. Nobody had ever come to Brock for comfort. They came to him for a solution, to fix things or take care of a problem, but never just for comfort.
He reached for her hand.
She glanced up at him, her lips parting just so and her beautiful blue eyes twinkling.
They made their way up the stairs to the ballroom, where red, white and gold assaulted his eyeballs and the shrill chime of poorly selected Christmas music blasted over the stereo system.
A fat fake Christmas tree sat poised in one corner with enormous red and gold bows tied all over it, while frosted snow pictures had been craftily sketched onto all the surrounding windows, and garland and icicles hung from every imaginable ledge or surface. It looked like an elf had gotten food poisoning and projectile-vomited over the entire room.
“You came!” an attractive brunette cheered, tottering up to Krista on her flashy gold stilettos, her red dress accentuating killer curves like nobody’s business. The two women hugged, the brunette towering over Krista, who had smartly decided to go with her flat gray ankle boots. The same ones she’d tossedat Brock’s skull not an hour earlier.
“Yeah … ” Krista sighed. “I came. Not sure how long I’ll stay, though. Still not feeling great.” The other woman’s eyes suddenly flew up to Brock’s face and then back to Krista and then Brock again.
A thousand questions asked in half a second with just one look and a lone raised eyebrow.
Krista coughed and moved back into Brock’s hand. He gently wrapped it around her slender waist and cupped her hip. How in the world this woman thought she was gaining weight already was beyond him. She still felt fucking perfect.
“I, uh … Allie, this is Brock, my …friend,” Krista finally said.
Brock snorted. She elbowed him.
Glancing up at him with a glare and mouthing “be cool” she continued to introduce them. “Brock, this is my friend and co-worker, Allie.”
He held out his hand, and the two made the customary pleasantries, though Brock could see and practically hear the cogs of curiosity spinning like a squeaky hamster wheel inside Allie’s head. She wanted to know every bit of juicy gossip surrounding Krista and her mystery date.
Krista left his embrace and stepped forward to join Allie. The two looped arms, and like a reluctant puppy, Brock followed behind, his eyes surveying the scene to see if he could spot that Myles fucker.
They were seated with Allie and Violet, and a few other of Krista’s colleagues, most of them civilian workers. Brock hadn’t said more than two sentences in the last hour, but he was completely fine with that. Chit-chat was overrated, and he wasn’t there to make friends. He was there to protect Krista and get some intel on Slade.
Sure, Chase’s hacking and Rex’s patrol had proven fruitful, but there was nothing like seeing the monster in the flesh, watching him in action and getting a real feel for the creep. Brock was just glad Slade was no longer Krista’s mentor. But that didn’t mean the scumbag was off the hook.
They were just finishing up dinner when Krista suddenly inhaled mid-sip of her water and began to cough. Wanting to help his date, he started to pound on her back, but his eyes also followed hers.
Krista’s coughing began to ebb, but not before the man she’d been watching swung his head in their direction and his eyes zeroed in on Krista. Then they landed in on Brock and nearly doubled in size.
Was this Slade?
It had to be.
Brock was only half listening to Krista’s friend while the other half of him continued to watch Myles. He was up to something, Brock was sure of it.
Krista’s eyes followed Slade, too, though not nearly as intensely as Brock’s. She still answered Allie and laughed on cue. Brock couldn’t give two shits if Allie had just told the funniest joke of the century; his focus was Slade.
Whether he was ignoring Brock or had legitimately lost interest, Myles turned his back and began chatting up a pretty, very young woman at the bar. The woman looked no more than twenty-one, if she was that. Blonde with big doe eyes and an innocent smile. Too young to be a cop for sure. Maybe a civilian worker? Someone’s date?
Her dark red dress left very little to the imagination, and the way she was laughing and giggling at everything Myles said told Brock she was Slade’s target for the evening. He couldn’t have Krista, so he was moving on to other prospects. Brock only hoped this prospect was willing and not forced or coerced.
Krista’s hand linked with Brock’s beneath the table, and she gave it a gentle squeeze. He squeezed it back, and she gasped beside him.
