Chapter Six
BROOKLYN
I close my eyes, unsure why I just begged Lucas to stay. I don’t want to look back up at him. I’m afraid of what I’ll see in his gaze. There’s probably pity in them, maybe even concern, but I don’t want to see it. I feel… pathetic.
I feel so damn pathetic.
I’m supposed to be this independent woman. An attorney, strong and smart, and yet—I’m terrified. Not only am I terrified, I want this man to protect me, to save me from the unknown threat.
Lucas’ hand slips around the side of my neck, and I love it. I love how it makes me feel warm and comforted and safe. I shouldn’t, I know that I shouldn’t, but I accept it all anyway.
If the playboy wants to comfort me, right now I’m selfish and scared enough to accept every single part of it. I don’t know what that says about me, but right now, I don’t care.
“Kitten,” he murmurs.
I like that too, probably too much. Opening my eyes, I look into his, and I don’t see the pity. Instead, I see nothing but concern shining back in his green gaze.
“I’m going to call the police. We’re going to talk to them, and then you’re coming home with me.”
I open my mouth to protest, but his lips gently brush mine and all words escape me. A tremor rolls throughout my entire body, but not because of fear, because this kiss, this brush of his lips, it’s electrifying.
“Be a good girl, and do as I say, okay?”
I nod, still unable to speak and unsure as to why when he said good girl, my belly dipped and my clit ached at the words. Shit, but being his good girl sounds like something I want to be. I want it like I want my next breath.
“Okay, Lucas,” I whisper.
He gives me his infamous smirk before he walks me over to my sofa and gently guides me down to sitting.
I watch as he takes his phone from his pocket and hits a few buttons before putting it up to his ear. I can’t focus on what he’s saying, just the way the cords in his sexy throat move with each word he speaks.
He’s tan, like he spends time outside, and it makes me curious if he enjoys the beach as much as I do?
Then my mind wanders to what he would look like bare-chested on that beach.
I shiver at the thought. I bet he’s downright gorgeous near the ocean. His muscular body on display and his black hair mussed from the wind.
My mind switches to being interested to know if Lucas enjoys Mexican food as much as I do, too.
Immediately, I decide he must not, because he’s pretty solid and muscular, and I doubt he’s snacking on chips and salsa and drinking sugar rimmed margs like I do, liberally.
In fact, I wonder about anything that will keep my mind off of everything that’s just happened.
I don’t want to think about the flowers or the phone call.
I don’t want to imagine some serial killer following me around, watching me, waiting for the moment to strike.
It’s too fucking scary.
“Kitten,” he calls softly. My eyes move from his neck, snapping to his green gaze.
He smiles gently, but it’s not his smirk. He can tell I’m freaking out. I watch as he slowly closes the distance between us, like I’m some skittish animal. His eyes don’t leave mine as he lowers himself to sit down next to me.
He doesn’t touch me, except for his thigh that’s pressed against my own. The heat from his suit pants seers my skin, and I suck in a breath, wondering what the rest of his body pressed against mine would feel like—naked.
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. “Lucas,” I mutter.
“The police are on their way. They’re sending a couple detectives. I want you to pack up a bag, a couple of days’ worth of stuff, and come home with me,” he gently instructs.
I press my lips together for a moment, inhaling through my nose before I let the breath out through my mouth. I want to accept his offer, but I can’t.
The fact is, I don’t know him that well, but I know myself, and I know that being in his home, alone with him, I probably wouldn’t be able to deny his advances.
“I appreciate the offer, I really do, but I can’t accept. I think maybe I should call a friend.”
I don’t know who I would call. Maybe someone I went to law school with. Most of my friends are just acquaintances, really.
I could contact Lillie’s parents, but they’re all the way in Bakersfield, and that’s an almost two-hour commute each way, and with traffic, it’s probably a lot more than that.
He grunts as his hand takes mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. “What kind of friend will you call, Brooklyn? A girlfriend?” he asks. I watch as darkness fills his eyes.
I open my mouth to reply before promptly closing it. I’ve been so focused on work the past year, I’ve lost all concept of relationships, including friends.
Fortunately, they’ll probably all understand. I assume that they’re in the same position as I am. We’re all working our way through various law offices. We’re crawling on our knees, and grasping at straws, trying to make our way toward the top.
Before I can reply, there is a knock on the door. Lucas squeezes my hand as he slowly stands to his feet, taking me with him as we walk over toward my front door.
His strong hand grasps ahold of mine, never leaving, and turns the knob with his other one.
He looks like he’s opening the door, as though he’s done it a dozen times. He is oddly at home here, as if this is where he’s spent time, like we’re some kind of couple.
I hear his deep voice murmur but don’t understand his words, he shuffles me back slightly and I watch as two detectives walk through my front door.
The detectives stand in the middle of my living room, but I can’t say anything, only stare at them.
One is tall and slim. He has a light dusting of grey at his temples and kind brown eyes.
The other is a tad shorter, more muscular, with light blond hair, blue eyes, and he’s in his early thirties. He’s cute.
If he weren’t standing next to the sexiest man I’d ever seen, I would probably be giddy.
“Miss Myers,” the taller one says, his voice deep yet gentle. “I’m Detective Anderson, and this is my partner, Detective Warner. Mr. Black called and told us that you’ve had some disturbing events occur recently.”
“Please, sit,” I finally offer, my voice somehow returning to me.
Detective Anderson sits on my loveseat and Detective Warner sits on the leopard print ottoman that doubles as a storage container for my DVDs.
I almost want to laugh at the extremely masculine man sitting on leopard print, but I don’t.
Lucas sits right beside me, his leg touching me from my hip all the way down to my foot, his arm wrapped around my waist, and his other hand holding one of mine on my lap.
From the detective’s standpoint, we probably look like a couple in love, not the practical strangers that we are. I’m frozen, my body stiff in surprise.
He’s been very touchy tonight, but this, holding me in his arms with these detectives here, it almost feels territorial. I’m not exactly sure how to feel about that.
“Now, please tell us, from the beginning, exactly what’s been going on,” Detective Anderson asks.
Clearing my throat, I inhale a breath before I speak. “A few weeks ago, I received a plastic wrapped bundle of flowers on my front porch. There wasn’t a note, and I assumed that they had been from Mr. Black. He’d sent flowers to my office a few days prior, then had delivered coffee and breakfast to me,” I explain.
The detective nods and scribbles on a piece of paper.
“Did Mr. Black leave you a note in the flowers he sent you at your place of business?” Detective Warner asks.
“He did. He’d also sent a note with the breakfast and coffee. The flowers on my porch didn’t seem his style, but I’d simply assumed it was him.”
Clearing his throat, Detective Anderson asks if I’ve been dating anybody, or recently ended things—casual
or serious—with another man.
Lucas’ body turns to granite next to mine as he waits for me to answer. He doesn’t look at me, I would know if his eyes were on me, I’d feel their heat. His body is still as he waits for my answer.
“No, I haven’t dated anybody in over two years. I’ve been busy with finishing law school, studying for the bar exam, and then I was hired as a first-year child advocacy attorney. I’ve been working, with little to no free time,” I explain.
Instantly, his body relaxes, and I decide to ignore his actions and reactions. I don’t want to deal with them. He seems almost relieved, though I’m sure if the detectives asked him the same question, the answer would be the polar opposite from mine.
“No free time for anything casual?” Detective Warner asks, arching his brow.
I hear Lucas growl low in his throat next to me, but I ignore him. His hand flexes against mine, and I almost laugh as his breathing becomes heavier.
I wonder if his nostrils flare when he’s angry? I decide not to look and find out, instead answering the question.
Tipping my head to the side, I clear my throat and answer. “No, nothing casual in over two-years, Detective. Unfortunately.”
“Are you done questioning my woman about her sex life?” Lucas barks.
My head swivels to the side to finally look at him. All I can see is his profile, his angry profile, pointed directly at Detective Warner.
“Your woman?” I whisper.
Lucas ignores my question, and Detective Anderson clears his throat as he asks me to continue. I bite my lip for a breath before I turn my gaze back to his and continue.
“I hadn’t received anything for a couple of weeks, then tonight I got a phone call on my cell. He said, ‘Watch your back, you fat bitch.’ I’ll never forget the deep, gravelly voice, not ever,” I say.
“Did you recognize it as anybody you knew?” Detective Warner asks.
Shaking my head, I tell him no before I continue with my story. “Lucas followed me back to my place. He wanted to make sure everything was okay. There was another bouquet of flowers on my porch when we arrived.”
“Where are they?” Detective Warner demands, his voice rising a bit.
I explain that Lucas broke them in half and threw them in my outdoor trashcan.
Personally, I think he should have put them in the green waste, but that’s neither here nor there.
I didn’t bitch about it. He got them out of my sight, and that’s all I care about.
“You threw away fucking evidence? What kind of goddamn moron are you?” Detective Warner shouts as he stands from the leopard print ottoman. I jump at his sudden outburst, and my eyes widen in surprise.
Lucas releases my hand and my waist as he stands as well, marching straight up to him. Lucas tips his chin down, and they stand nose to nose.
Detective Anderson jumps to his feet and closes in between them.
Like the idiot I am, I stay in my spot as my mouth drops open, watching the exchange as if I’m watching it play out on television, instead of right in front of me.
I watch these two muscular handsome men, standing toe-to-toe and nose-to-nose. For whatever strange reason, I catch myself thinking about who would win if they got into a fight.
I think Warner has moves that could disable Lucas easily because of police training, but I’m pretty positive Lucas can stand on his own and would give him a run for his money.
“Want to repeat that shit to my fucking face?” Lucas growls, interrupting my thoughts.
Detective Warner opens his mouth, but Anderson speaks first. “Now, we all just need to calm down. What’s done is done. In the future, Mr. Black, I’m sure you don’t need me to explain why evidence must remain pure in cases like this.”
Lucas grunts but he doesn’t move, his eyes pinned to Warner’s, his chin tipped down, and his nose still practically touching Warner’s. I glance at his fists and notice that they’re balled tightly, his knuckles white and ready to strike.
I lick my lips at the sight.
I bet Lucas getting into a fight would be hot. I’m not sure why that excites me so much, but it really does.
This is not the time or place to think about something like that, but I find that the distraction is not unwanted.
With a sigh, Detective Anderson strolls over to me, handing me a small white card.
“This is my card with my direct number on it. If something else, anything else happens, you let me know,” he murmurs.
“What happens next?” I ask, turning my gaze from the macho stare down to the detective.
He shakes his head once. “I’m sorry, Miss Myers. There’s nothing else to be done, not until we know more,” he responds.
I don’t think about his words, or what they mean. Know more. Yeah, like if this creep does something to me.
The thought of this person finding me and hurting me causes my throat to close. I wrap my hand around the front of it and force myself to breathe.
“Okay,” I mutter, gripping the card in my hand.
I watch as Detective Anderson walks over to his partner, clapping him on the shoulder and announcing that it’s time for them to leave.
Lucas doesn’t even flinch. He stays in his frozen position until the two men walk out of the house.
Only when they close the door behind them does he turn toward me. The anger and something undefinable is apparent in his eyes when he focuses on me.
“Go upstairs and pack your fucking shit,” he shouts.
LUCAS
Not only am I fucking pissed, livid even, I’m so goddamn turned on I can’t think straight. I yell at Brooklyn, causing her to jump.
I feel bad for scaring her, but if I go anywhere near her right now, I’ll fuck her hard and fast right this minute, and I’ll hurt her.
She doesn’t need that, and until she’s out of my sight and gives me a few minutes to collect myself, she’s not safe from me. I feel my control slipping, sliding, and almost non-existent.
Only when she scurries away do I take a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down to gain back the loose hold that I have on my control. My head is so fucking jumbled, I don’t know what the fuck I’m even thinking.
I should just let Brooklyn call a friend, get her out of my sight until I have my shit under control, but goddamn two years without a man touching her? Something inside of me just snapped.
She’s mine—for now. I knew I wanted her, I knew I had to have her. There’s no going back. I must work her out of my system, and I’m starting that shit right goddamn now.
I’m feeling irrational, especially with the way Detective Warner, the scumbag, was eyeing her.
I laugh to myself, unbelieving that I’m calling another man a scumbag when I’m the goddamn king of them.
He can’t have Brooklyn, though. I saw the desire in his eyes, especially when he tried to make me look like a fucking fool. He wants her, and I’ll be damned if some fuckwad bests me.
“Lucas, I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Brooklyn mutters.
I look over to her staircase and see her at the bottom. She’s changed her work clothes and is wearing a pair of light washed, torn up jeans, and a black tank top. Her feet are in a pair of canvas flat shoes, instead of high heels.
She looks a fuck’ve a lot younger like this, but Christ, she’s just as sexy. She’s innocent looking, and I have the insane urge to teach her some filthy things—I plan on doing just that.
Walking over to her, I bend down and wrap my hand around the handle of her bag.
“It’s a great idea,” I grunt.
I make my way toward her door and open it, holding it for her as I wait for her to walk past me. She does, but I can tell that she’s hesitant. I would be, too. I’m acting like a fucking asshole.
Once she’s passed me, I follow her and shut her door, waiting for her to lock it before I walk toward my car.
Her jeans hug her ass, as though she’s worn them a million times and now they’re molded
perfectly for her body.
Fucking shit, I need her.
“I can just follow you,” she suggests.
I shake my head as I hold the passenger door open for her. “Get in, Brooklyn,” I grunt.
Her eyes narrow for a split second. Then, surprisingly, she does as I’ve demanded and sits down in the car. After I close the door behind her, I take her bag and place it in my small trunk.
I’m glad she didn’t over pack, as my trunk wouldn’t be able to hold a bag any larger than the one she’s brought.
Hurrying to the driver’s side of the car, I sink into the seat and start the engine.
“Do you want to talk about why you practically took that detective out and then yelled at me?” she asks after I merge onto Highway 101.
“Nope,” I state as I head toward my home.
Without traffic, it would only take fifteen minutes to get from my place to hers, but this is Ventura. There’s always traffic and therefore it’s going to take at least forty-five.
“We’ll be at my place soon. Think about where you want to order dinner.”
She doesn’t say anything for a few minutes as I slowly crawl along the Pacific Coast Highway.
“I’m not hungry,” she says finally, her voice too soft for my liking. She sounds scared again, small and worried.
The words piss me off. She worked hard all day long, and there’s no way in hell she’s not hungry.
Though tonight was stressful, she can’t shut down, not when I’ve got her exactly where I want her. I won’t allow it.
“Tough shit.”
“Tough shit?” she asks, her voice rising an octave.
I laugh, “Yeah, kitten. Tough shit. You’re eating,” I state.
“Then I want pizza and a margarita,” she announces, crossing her arms under her gorgeous tits, causing them to strain even more against her tight tank.
Without saying a word to her, I quickly scroll through my phone and press send. The sound of the phone ringing blares through my speakers.
DISCOVERY (Esquire Black Duet Book 1) Page 6