Page 60 of Burning Justice

The thought sent a jolt of jealousy rocketing through his veins.

She frowned. “Why?”

He laughed outright. “Because you’re so beautiful.”

Her mouth fell open. She looked down at their clasped hands, chewing on her lower lip. “Not having been with anyone in a while was only part of the reason I stopped us the other night. We’re partners, and any kind of closeness, let alone intimacy between partners, can get ugly.”

“Sounds like you’re talking from experience.” Using their joined hands, he tipped up her chin. “What happened?”

She took a deep breath and sighed heavily. “A colleague of mine stole my case. I mean, he literally stole my case file and presented my evidence as his own. I liked him. He knew it and took advantage of it. He, uh…” Her brow creased, then she cleared her throat and swallowed. “He slept with me. He did it to put me off guard, to get close to me and learn all the details of the case first.”

“Ouch.” No wonder she’d practically kicked him off that hotel bed, and it certainly explained the source of her thick emotional armor. Even though she was making a valiant effort to hide it from him, it was obvious she’d been hurt terribly. Judging by the sadness in her eyes, there was still residual pain at work here, more than she was letting on.

Brett’s heart went out to her. Whoever this asshole was, he wished he could pound the guy’s face into the ground.

She made a valiant effort at smiling, but it never made it to her eyes. “As long as we’re spilling here, it’s your turn to divulge one of your worst secrets.”

Secrets? He didn’t really have any. Everyone knew about the worst parts of his life. Both fires he’d been in had been splashed all over the evening news for weeks. Only the people closest to him—his family, Deck, and Evan—knew what the media didn’t.

“I have nightmares.” Fuck. He couldn’t believe the words had just come from his mouth.

“About the fires.” The look of genuine concern on Gemma’s face touched a cold, dark place in his heart. “I’m sorry. Can you get help, talk to someone about it?”

“I did. When I was eleven.” He hadn’t talked to a shrink since then. Sitting in a psychiatrist’s office twice a week every week for nearly a year had sucked. Somehow, word had gotten out to his entire school, and he’d been ridiculed. “I thought I’d gotten past it. The fire last year triggered them all over again.”

She squeezed his hand. “You could go again, you know. Maybe it would help.”

“Maybe.” Or not. A federal agent seeking assistance for PTSD no longer had the same stigma attached to it that it once had, but he had no desire to rehash everything to a psychiatrist.

Gemma yawned, and her eyelids fluttered as she struggled to stay awake.

“Go to sleep,” he whispered, then reached over Blaze to tug the sheet to her neck. The bruises around her throat had already deepened more in color. As he released the sheet, Brett curled his hand into a tight fist.

What had gone down tonight at Gemma’s house and at Piggly’s was a neon light blinking nonstop in his head.

They were being targeted, and if they didn’t get a solid lead to follow and fast, sooner or later…

The perpetrator would find his mark.

Chapter Seventeen

Gemma woke slowly, though she was still in the hazy stages between sleep and being fully awake. She squinted at the early morning sunlight streaming through the window. At least her head had ceased to pound and her neck had stopped throbbing.

She’d expected to feel Blaze’s head snugged against her neck, where it had been when she’d fallen asleep with the dog lying between Brett and her. Only Blaze wasn’t there. In fact, there was nothing between them, and it was her head snugged against his neck. The realization had her heart beating just a scooch faster.

How and when had that happened? And where was Blaze?

The last thing she remembered before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep was being way too honest with Brett about her personal baggage. But he’d understood, even called her out on it, something no one ever really had. Somehow, and in such a short time, he knew her better than most people. Then she remembered the rest of their conversation.

His nightmares.

Living that way, night after night, never knowing if you’d wake up in the throes of an awful nightmare… She couldn’t imagine what it must be like for him. He was a big, strong guy, but no amount of strength could protect him from a horrible dream. Her heart ached for what he must be going through.

With her head between Brett’s chin and his shoulder, she could just make out Blaze’s tail on the floor in the living room in front of the TV on the workbench. Brett must have gotten up while she’d been asleep and turned it on for him.

Somehow, her right arm had wound up draped over Brett’s gloriously naked, totally buff chest. His skin was smooth, taut, and warm beneath her fingers, with a smattering of light brown, springy hairs. Was that a six-pack or an eight-pack? Did they make a twelve? Either way, there were a lot of undulations in those chiseled abs.

What she ought to do was move, put some space between them. How embarrassing would it be if he woke to find her plastered against him and ogling him like he was a male go-go dancer?