His to Protect: A Fireside Novel

by Stacey Lynn

  “Don’t go,” he said quietly, almost a whisper, but not quite. “Tell me what he said.”

  I shook my head and then jerked my chin up when movement behind Declan caught my attention.

  “Who are they?” I asked, pulling my hand from Declan’s grasp.

  He looked behind him, and my eyes followed his until I was looking at a man in dark-blue jeans and a black T-shirt that almost matched his dark hair. His blue eyes were fixed on me with unspoken and unknown intent, and as I took in the handsome, incredibly muscled man, my gaze went to the woman next to him.

  He had one hand in a front pocket, and she slid her hand through the crook of his arm and pressed closer to him.

  She was beautiful, with inky-black hair that fell down past her breasts, and wore a simple, light-blue dress that hit her just below the knees, with sleeves that came down just past her elbows. She was elegant and casual, and as I lifted my eyes to hers, she seemed friendly.

  Her blue eyes narrowed as her lips spread into a cautious smile.

  “Hello. I’m Blue.”

  It took only a moment for me to recognize the name, and my gaze snapped to Declan, turning into a scowl before I turned back to the other man.

  Tyson Blackwell and Gabriella Galecki.

  FBI agent and ex-Mafia princess.

  I hadn’t forgotten what Declan said about them. I also remembered the news story being on television for weeks.

  “You’re law enforcement,” I said to Tyson.

  “Tyson Blackwell,” he said, “I’m with the FBI. And you’re running from an abusive husband.”

  He stated it so simply. He knew.

  My eyes flicked to Declan’s. “You said you wouldn’t tell him.”

  Blood boiled in my veins. As if Boomer could sense my anger, or my fear, he got to his feet and for the first time in my life, backed up against my hips. He let loose a low growl, his eyes directly on Tyson.

  I reached out and rested my hand on Boomer’s head, letting him know it was okay.

  Of all the times for him to turn into a guard dog.

  I almost laughed, but the room was too tense, the air too thick.

  “I need to go.” I looked Declan in the eye, letting my feeling of betrayal show in my gaze. I let him see the pain I felt that he’d done this.

  I felt no victory when he flinched.

  “I think he can help you,” he said, making no apologies. “I wouldn’t have told him if I couldn’t trust him implicitly. And Tyson and Blue were at Fireside tonight when you called.”

  “How convenient.”

  Declan shook his head and took a small step toward me, but stopped when Boomer let loose another warning growl.

  “Don’t do this, Trina. You don’t have to run, not tonight. Let us help you.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  He shrugged, as if he were uncertain, but when he spoke again, his voice sounded almost sad. Resigned. “I just have to.”

  I saw the honesty in his expression, mixed with his own confusion. My heart rate began to slow.

  As much as it’d be the best decision to grab my bag and walk out that front door, I hesitated.

  This man made me feel safe.

  “We’re on your side,” Blue said, stepping in front of Tyson. “Please. I don’t know what you’ve been through, but no woman should be afraid of her husband.” She shook her head and pressed her lips into a frown. “I’m sorry you’re scared, I really am, but we’re only here to listen. Tyson has said he’ll do everything he can to keep you safe.”

  Reality pressed down on me, forcing me to face the facts.

  If Kevin knew where I was, I only had a small amount of time to find somewhere else to stay. I needed to ditch my car first, and it was too late now on a Saturday to do anything about that.

  I also had to get a new phone number.

  It’d take me until Monday to get a different car.

  I felt my window of opportunity closing with every passing breath, leaving me with no other choice.

  “Okay,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

  My gaze went to Declan’s and his shoulders sagged with relief.

  Pulling in a fortifying breath, I took my hand from Boomer’s head and gave him a soft pat. Then I looked at Tyson. “What do you need to know?”

  —

  I held the stem of a wineglass gingerly between my fingertips and stared at the crisp red wine, trying to figure out how to piece together my story. I went from being no one to someone, and hated every second once I got there.

  Some people would look at me and think, Poor little rich white girl.

  On paper, I had it all.

  In my heart, I’d been waiting for the moment when my mom was healthy enough to return to work, so she could take care of herself. Not that we had contact anymore. She was the one who encouraged me to stay with Kevin and for that—for not being the mother I needed when I needed her—I doubted I would ever forgive her.

  Memories of my earlier days with Kevin flashed through my mind as I took a small sip of my wine before dragging my tired eyes to Blue.

  For some reason, it felt easier to tell my story to her.

  Declan was sitting next to me, one arm thrown over the back of the couch, his hips turned toward me. His arm behind me made me feel protected. Safe.

  Across from us, Tyson was sitting next to Blue. They leaned forward with anticipation, Tyson’s brow furrowed in concentration, as if he’d remember every word I spoke without needing to write a single one down.

  “I was born into a family with a father who became a self-made success in Kentucky,” I began. “His business became so popular that he also became a huge donor to political campaigns. It was at one of these campaign fundraisers that I was introduced to Kevin.”

  I paused and pulled in a shaky breath. Behind me, Declan’s hand fell to the back of my neck, and through my hair, draped over my shoulders, his hand squeezed me, encouraging me.

  Warming me in ways it shouldn’t.

  Not then.

  I blinked several times and focused on Blue. With a small smile, she nodded, giving me the courage to continue.

  “My husband is Kevin Morgenson. He’s the son of Senator Morgenson.”

  At their blank expressions, I almost laughed. Liberal Yankees.

  We were only ten hours away, but a far cry from the conservative and Republican South, where the Morgenson name was revered, whispered in awe when any of them, myself included, walked into a business or home.

  I hated the name.

  “Kevin’s father, Kevin Morgenson Jr., has been a state senator for thirty years. He has held his position longer than any other senator south of the Mason-Dixon line.”

  “Shit,” Tyson muttered and his lips twisted to one side. “Which explains why you want to head to Canada.”

  I raised a shoulder and dropped it. “Kevin, both of them, but my husband in particular, have a strong influence all over the country. I figured if I could leave the country, then I’d be safer.”

  “From what?” Tyson asked and lifted a hand, when a low growling sound emerged from Declan. “I need to ask, man. I know what you’ve told me, but I gotta know the story, too.”

  A sudden desire to soothe Declan’s bubbling anger suffused me. I placed a hand on his thigh and squeezed.

  It was the first time I’d touched him.

  Heat from his strong, firm, and muscled leg seeped into the skin of my fingertips, singeing them. Before I could move my hand away, Declan’s other hand covered mine. He didn’t squeeze it. He pressed his hand into the back of mine as if he wanted to mold my skin to his.

  I tried to push down the emotions it brought forth in me, the comfort it caused to boil in my own veins. I dragged my eyes off of our hands and back to the couple across the room.

  When I did, another soft smile tugged on Blue’s lips. That time, though, it was because she was staring at our connected hands.

  I tensed under Declan’s touch and cleared my throat.
<
br />   “The first time he hit me it was because I’d gone out for drinks, lost track of time, and hadn’t prepared his dinner on time.”

  “Asshole,” Declan muttered, his muscles tensing beneath my hand.

  “There were too many to count after that,” I admitted, feeling the familiar shame weighing down my shoulders. I pulled my gaze off of Blue’s sympathetic expression and focused on the glass of wine in my hand. I twirled the delicate stem with my fingers and tried to find the desire to continue.

  To them, I was a beaten wife. A woman who knew better, who knew it would continue and stayed anyway. I didn’t even want to know what they thought of me.

  I hadn’t had time to consider it further when Declan squeezed the back of my neck again and leaned forward, his lips almost at my ear.

  Then he whispered, in the softest, deepest, and most rumbly voice I’d ever heard. “There’s no judgment here, Trina. And you can stop at anytime.”

  Trina.

  He didn’t even know my name.

  “Katrina,” I whispered, forcing myself to turn toward him. Our lips almost brushed and I pulled back, but his hand on my neck stopped me.

  A slight hint of a grin twitched at one corner of his lips.

  “I hate the name,” I told him.

  He leaned forward, pulling me to the side and closer. I fought a shiver when I felt his breath along my jaw before it moved back to my ear. “It’s beautiful.”

  Then he let me go, and I was left wondering how I could bottle that ragged, deep, sexy voice so I could pop it open and have him speak to me like that every night before I went to sleep, and remember how he was looking at me right now.

  As if he meant every word.

  I lost my fight with the shiver and let it flow down my spine, feeling heat hit my cheeks.

  A throat clearing caught my attention and both of us snapped our heads in the direction of the noise.

  Blue was no longer looking sympathetic, but amused, and Tyson no longer looked concerned, but angry.

  It was that expression that spurred me on. In part because I didn’t want Declan’s friend mad at me, if that was the cause of his sudden shift in demeanor.

  Also because I was angry. And I had every right to be.

  The people closest to me, who loved me, let me down.

  It’d been the kindness of strangers in the last week that showed me what a life without the Morgenson name attached to it could be like.

  And it was so much better.

  It was a life I realized I wanted to keep.

  “My name is Katrina Morgenson,” I told Tyson. “I’m sure if you pull up my medical records you’ll find various hospital stays all over Kentucky, and when I say all over, I mean everywhere. I wasn’t allowed to go to hospitals often. I was usually treated at home with a paid-off doctor, but when I did go, Kevin always made sure to give some excuse, some reason we were in town, and I never argued.”

  “Why?” Tyson asked, although the question was a surprise.

  I rolled my slumped shoulders and looked him square in the eye. “After my first beating, I went home to my family. My father had recently passed away and while I was crying on my mother’s shoulder, she declared that I should return home and find a way to not upset Kevin.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Declan muttered.

  I ignored him and continued. “I didn’t know it at the time, but learned later that while my father was wealthy, we weren’t millionaires, or anywhere close to the same league as the Morgensons. And on top of finding out my father’s business was actually going under, and his heart attack might have been ‘self-induced’ ”—I paused and used air quotes, because while it was never determined, given our personal financials and those of the company, it was highly likely that my father had taken his own life—“my mom had just been diagnosed with leukemia.”

  “And she had no money,” Blue filled in, figuring it out quicker than I would have anticipated.

  “And Kevin did,” I replied, nodding confirmation of her assessment.

  “You stayed to take care of your mom even though she sent you back to be with that monster.”

  “And when she received her six-month clearance, just less than two weeks ago, I declared myself done. Figure I’ve done my daughterly duty.”

  I let the silence, the weight of that statement, settle around everyone.

  Blue grinned at me. “You might be the strongest person I’ve ever freaking met.”

  Despite the heaviness in the room, despite the fact that Kevin could be outside the house that very minute, and despite the fact that I’d shared more in the last hour than I ever had with anyone in my entire life—and I was still not certain it was a good decision—I threw my head back and laughed, while Blue joined in. Next to me, Declan chuckled and pulled me closer to him.

  And it felt really, really freaking good.

  —

  I wrapped my hand around the warm wrist as my back was lowered to the warm, plush bed I’d been sleeping on for the last several days.

  With my eyes still closed, I knew Declan was pulling away from me. He’d just carried me up the stairs after I fell asleep on the couch. After I told the rest of my story to Tyson, including specifics I’d never wanted to mention to anyone, I had leaned my head on Declan’s shoulder and closed my eyes while I listened to Tyson, Blue, and Declan murmur quietly.

  He felt warm and safe. The gentle brushes of his thumb on my shoulder sent tiny tremors through my body.

  I tightened my grip on his wrist.

  “Please,” I muttered with a garbled voice. “I don’t want to be alone. Not tonight.”

  “Trina.” His voice sounded strained as he pulled his wrist out of my grasp. He brushed hair off my forehead in a way that made me lean into his touch. So soft. So gentle.

  So much the opposite of how I’d been touched for the last several years that I felt my body craving that tenderness even though I knew I shouldn’t desire it.

  “Not sure that’s a good idea,” Declan said, his thick voice a bit raspy.

  “Please,” I whispered again, opening my eyes to see him. The outline of his body was barely visible in the darkened room, and slightly blurred because of my sleepiness.

  After what seemed like several minutes passing, Declan finally nodded. I shifted on the bed and then watched as he fumbled with the button and zipper of his jeans. He sat on the edge of the bed, his back to me, and removed them.

  The bed dipped as he lay down next to me, his T-shirt still on, and rolled toward my side. One of his arms slid under me and he pulled me to him until my head rested on his shoulder. His hand settled on my lower back, and I felt the warmth of his light but still possessive touch soak into my skin through my shirt.

  His other hand rested on his stomach.

  Closing my eyes, I shifted my body against him, trying to get as close as possible. His whole body was tense, rigid.

  My body felt like it was waking up for possibly the first time.

  We lay there silently while tension rippled in the air around us, both of us feeling it, neither of us acknowledging it.

  I had almost been lulled back to sleep by the slow movement of his chest as he breathed, when he turned his head toward me and brushed his lips across my forehead.

  “Go to sleep, Trina. We won’t let him hurt you.”

  I pulled in my last deep breath before sleep claimed me, and fell asleep knowing that Declan believed his own words 110 percent.

  I fell asleep cradled in Declan’s embrace, feeling safer with this almost-stranger than I had since the day I said “I do.”

  I fell asleep with my life a mess, my future unclear, but I knew one thing for certain. I never wanted this feeling to fade.

  Ever.

  But when I woke up?

  I was all alone.

  Just like always.

  Chapter 9

  Declan

  I hadn’t slept since Trina curled herself into me and fell asleep quickly after.

  I hadn�
�t been able to close my eyes without feeling pure rage.

  I could only take so much time being next to her, breathing in her soft, clean scent, and touching the delicate curves of her body.

  I had to fight the urge to run my hand down her side, feeling her curves. My fingers itched to explore her body, to travel beneath the layers of clothing separating my skin from hers. Between the warmth of her body, the slow rise and dip of her chest, and the way she had practically pleaded with me to stay with her, I couldn’t stop having inappropriate thoughts of inappropriate things I wanted to do to her.

  Hours after she fell asleep, her quiet, little puffs of breath hitting my chest and driving me to the brink of doing something insane—like waking her up and covering her skin with kisses—I finally pulled myself away from her, careful not to wake her, and got the hell out of there.

  Making only a whistling noise to get Boomer’s attention where he slept on the floor by Trina’s side of the bed, I shut her door quietly behind us. For a dopey-looking dog that generally seemed to care only about chasing squirrels and filling his stomach with food, he guarded her well.

  As Boomer trudged behind me, the sound of our steps on the carpet the only noise in the house, I carefully made my way through the darkened living room and into the kitchen. I started a pot of coffee, knowing that if I hadn’t fallen asleep yet, I most likely wouldn’t at all.

  Scratching sounds came from behind me and I looked to see Boomer clawing at the sliding door. I opened it just enough for him to slip through and flicked on the backyard porch light so I could see him. My yard was fenced, but the fence was only three feet high. If Boomer was ever motivated enough, he could easily clear it. As I closed the door, I jumped back from the quick rush of cool air breezing inside, chilling me to my bones.

  It was September and already getting too cold for shorts. It was times like this I thought my parents had it right. Move south. Visit the North to escape the dastardly evil summer heat down there, but avoid the snow at all costs.

  Thinking of my mom made me grin. I hadn’t talked to her much recently and I knew she’d have a lot of opinions when she learned I’d invited a woman into my home.