We used to be the two practical jokers in our unit. Pine tar on the toilet seat. Lube on the plastic tub of powdered coffee creamer. A footlocker full of dildos whenever we got a newbie in our ranks. And then…we both stopped laughing.
“Shut up,” I mutter, but there’s no venom in my tone. “About earlier…I’m—”
The apology dies in my throat as Wren emerges from the bathroom with a pill case clutched in her hand and her well-worn pink sweatshirt in the other. A black tank clings to her slight curves. “What?” She looks between the two of us, but Dax just shrugs.
“Nothing.” My jeans feel a little snug, and I turn back to the bed—the bed she wasjustsleeping in, dammit—and rip open the ACE bandage. “Wrist.”
“So we’re back to the single-word answers?” She sighs as she lowers herself carefully onto the edge of the mattress. “It’s not broken. I don’t need—”
My glare cuts her off, and she holds out her arm. “So…what did the cops say?” I ask as I gently probe the swelling, checking for any hot spots or areas of acute pain. Wren grimaces, but otherwise remains silent.
“Being blind has its advantages once in a while,” Dax says and runs a hand through his dark hair. “No one pays attention to the guy with the cane. The men who attacked you haven’t said a word, but when the detective was done with me, I had to wait for someone to help me get back out of the building, and I eavesdropped a little. Those two are repeat offenders. Mostly intimidation, but they’ve also been written up on drug charges half a dozen times. Minor possession with intent to sell.”
“Any ties to—”
“I’m getting to that. You have any coffee in this hotel room?”
“Yeah. Just a minute.” I press Wren’s thumb against her palm, holding the end of the bandage in place.
As I wrap her wrist, she stares down at my fingers curled around hers. This girl—woman—does something to me I don’t like. I can’t get enough of her. She’s innocent, but not. Sweet, but not. All contradictions and mysteries I’d love to solve. Except, if I tried, I’d drag her down into the dark pit I exist in, and no one deserves that.
“There you go.” Squeezing the cold pack to activate it, I press it gently to her cheek. “Better?”
She nods, then curls her legs under her as she settles back against the pillows.
“You still take your coffee black?” I ask Dax as I fill the little pod machine with water.
Dax snorts. “Is there any other way?”
“Men. Lattes are delicious,” Wren says, her words a little slurred.
“What’s wrong?” I freeze with my hand on the brew button, but she just smiles.
“Meds kicking in.” Her eyelids flutter closed. “Plus…exhausted. Prolly gonna sleep a while. Sorry.”
Once I start the coffee, I return to her side, pull back the blankets, and tuck her in. “Sleep as long as you want. I’ll be here.” I punctuate my whisper with a kiss to her forehead, and she settles.
Why didn’t I spring for a suite?
Dax sits quietly, flopped back in the chair with annoyance etched all over his face. When I press the mug of coffee into his hand, he tips his head up. “Nice of you to remember I was here, dickwad.”
“I’m not…good with people.”
“No shit.” He takes a sip, then grimaces. “And your hotel has crappy coffee.”
“Every hotel has crappy coffee. You want a good brew, come out to Seattle. Sampson can tell you the origin of every fucking bean he grinds.”
“The SEAL?” With a low whistle, Dax sets his mug aside. “I heard he quit after some overzealous colonel sent in the drones early and decimated his team.”
“He did. And now he works for me. K&R.” Needing something to do with all this energy thrumming through my body, I head for the window again. I can’t stand staring at four walls. Can’t stand being cooped up with no way out. If the window in this room opened more than an inch, I’d have my head half out of it by now.
“Always knew that’s where you were headed.” After a sigh, he turns in my general direction. “Listen, Ry. I meant what I said back at Wren’s. I don’t know how to forgive you. But…it doesn’t matter now. Because Wren’s in trouble, and I can’t protect her. Not like this.” He gestures to his tinted glasses. “Those two assholes have been linked to the Solensky drug ring operating out of Roxbury.”
“And the Solensky drug ring…”
“Has ties to theNevsky Bratva.” He nods, winces, and removes his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Fucking migraines. I need to crash. I called in a few favors, and if I’m lucky, I’ll know more when the sun comes up.”
“Go home.” I glance back at Wren. “She’s safe here. At least for tonight.”
