Tye would go after the man who did this to her, she knew he would. And he’d find him, too. He’d never let up, never let it go, not until the creep was behind bars. But then everything else would come out into the open too.
What would he think of her then? Would he look at her like some sort of kinky sub-wannabe? Would he see her curiosity about the bondage lifestyle as odd? Or maybe even offensive? Would he freak to learn that whenever she fantasized lately about being sexually restrained, in every single one of those fantasies he was the man doing the restraining?
She’d never told a soul any of this. Walking into that BDSM club tonight had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done. But to be bombarded with new uncertainties and end up leaving only to be attacked once she reached her car…
She swallowed, and while she held her breath at the burn in her throat, a new emotion emerged. Anger. Her fingertips itched with it. Her heart raced because of it. There was no way she could sit idly by while some whacked-out joy-rider got away with hurting her, especially when said whacko still had her purse, along with her ID. He knew where she lived, had taunted her by flicking her license in her face before she managed to escape from the van. That part, she remembered. Clearly, and in vivid detail.
She deserved to nail that bastard to the wall, just as Tye deserved to know what happened. And with that dawning, came the decision to stop the all the useless head-in-the-sand garbage and reveal some of what she remembered.
She shrugged a sore shoulder and settled in to tell him the truth—an abbreviated version, but the truth nonetheless. It would be the only truth he would get out of her right now. The only truth she could bear to tell him. Everything else—the whys of it all, along with the hows—would just have to wait.
And with that, she blurted out, “I’m in trouble, Tye. You’ve got to help me, because I’m in so much trouble.”
Chapter Three
Even though Laine’s statement shouldn’t have come as a surprise, Tye couldn’t help but feel a little sucker-punched. From the get-go, nothing about the situation had screamed simple, but actually hearing the words “I’m in trouble” spill from her lips tightened his gut like it was clenched in a vise. What he needed was more information. And he needed it right-fucking-now.
He narrowed his eyes on her and ran the hand that wasn’t busy stroking her knuckles through his hair.
“I was getting in my car—” she started.
“Where?”
“I was in Carson. Off 87. I was attacked from behind. I didn’t see anything or hear anything. Not until it was too late.”
“Carson? What the…” Club Euphoria was in Carson off Route 87. Goddamn it. “So you didn’t see who did this?”
“No. Once he shoved me in the van and came at me to…”
When she stopped and tears welled again, Tye’s throat sealed tight. Even though she could barely get the words out, he was able to figure out exactly what she was going to say. When he came at me to tie me up…
“That’s when I saw he was covered head to toe in black. A black knit hat. A black scarf. He had on a black shirt and black pants.”
“And he drove you back here? Back to Pete’s? In a van? Do you remember the make? The color?”
She looked up to him. “God, it was so dark out, and so was the van. Black? Dark green or blue maybe? It was an older model, that I know. Old enough and beat up enough that the doors and side panels were rusted out.”
“Where off 87 were you?”
She drew her lips between her teeth and studied him for a moment before answering. “I was parked at the corner of Rogers and Tinley.”
He didn’t know the names of all the cross-streets in Carson, but if he had to hazard a guess, Rogers and Tinley wasn’t going to be too far away from Club Euphoria. “What were you doing? Were you with anyone?”
She looked from where he held her hand in her lap up to his eyes and then over to the door before concentrating on their entwined fingers once again. “Look, I’ll tell you what happened. I’ll tell you everything I remember, I promise.” She said the words like she was trying to convince herself she really would. “It’s just… Not here.”
“Why not here? Laine, just tell me…”
When she started to shake her head, she winced and drew her eyebrows together. He’d had more than a few concussions over the years while playing football throughout high school and college, so he understood how much her head had to be killing her right now. But holding true to classic Laine style, she never alluded to it, never uttered a single derogatory word about it.
“Not here,” she repeated, looking around like the walls had ears and they were eavesdropping on every word she said.
It took every ounce of control he possessed not to jump to his feet and turn around to punch the wall. Yet, even through his boiling blood, he was able to recognize his need to hit something was due only to his growing concern for her. She was hurt. Scared. And her terrified ambiguousness was driving him up a flipping wall.
He’d gotten some information out of her, but it wasn’t nearly enough.
He dialed his edginess back a fraction with a deep breath. Not that it helped. His blood still rocketed through his veins, joined now by cramping muscles along his shoulders and an irritating new tic at the edge of his jaw.
“I need to hear it all. And sooner rather than later.”
She slipped her hand from his and closed her good eye. The strangled breath she let loose and the return of her quivering chin had him feeling like a jerk for pushing her so hard. But he had to. He didn’t have a choice.
“When can I leave?” she whispered.
Tye continued to study her—the pallor of her skin, the unsteady tremor of her fingers as she twisted them together over her stomach. “I don’t know. You took quite a hit to your head. The concussion might be a mild one, but it’s still a concussion. You should stay.”
“No, it would be better if I left. I can’t stay here…”
“Why not? You’ve just had the crap beat out of you,” he reiterated, drawing on the one clear fact—the only clear fact—that he knew.
She attempted to shake her head again before fingering the bandage at her temple. “Believe me, I know that. But it’s not so simple.” Resting her forehead in her palm, she said, “God, I can’t think straight. I just want to leave. I want to go…”
Home was the obvious choice, but she didn’t say it. Something just wasn’t adding up here. The cryptic runaround, and now the way she insisted on leaving? This odd beating around the bush was getting to him and made him even more determined to get to the bottom of whatever was going on. “Go where? What the hell are you running from?”
She didn’t answer, only looked away. He could read the turmoil on her face, knew by the way her chest rose and fell on each rapid breath that she was on the verge of tears. But he wouldn’t stop, not until he had some answers.
“Again with the silence.” He rose from the bed and paced to the window before turning back to her. “Cut me some slack, Laine. Throw me a bone here. Something. Talk to me.”
She looked up, sheepish. “I will—”
“But not here. So you said. Like I told you, the longer we wait—”
She tossed him a terrified look, but attempted to hide her fear just as quickly. “I know.”
He wondered if she really did. “I can help,” he said. “You know I can. Let me.”
She drew her lips between her teeth as her chin trembled yet again. When the lone tear slid down her cheek, every possessive cell inside him exploded. He went back and sat on the edge of the bed next to her, nudged her chin with his thumb until she looked at him as his other hand caressed along the side of her neck.
He was done playing around.
“You’re scared,” he whispered. “I can see that. Let me in, Laine. Let me help you.”
“I can’t…” she started.
God, he was about to blow a gasket. But he calmed himself enough to speak softly. “I know
when you look at me, you see a quiet peacemaker. Rest assured though, there’s more to me than just some guy who can talk a baseball bat out of Mrs. Johnson’s hand every time Mr. Johnson gets frisky and gropes the waitress in the diner.” Good, he liked that the edge of her lip quirked at that comment, that she responded to him in some small way. “I come from a long line of bad-asses, Laine. I just chose a different way to kick butt, that’s all. Words work better in most situations, and that’s a motto I live by. But all those tough guys in my family? I can hold my own against any one of them, and they’ve each got the scars to prove it. I can—and will—protect you from whatever it is that has you running. I want…” He stopped to swipe at her tears with the pad of his thumb. “I need you to believe that. I need you to trust me in this.”
“Oh, Tye.”
As he looked at her, his insides burst in a powder keg of protectiveness and need. He thought back on all those times he’d flirted with her before, yet still held himself back. Shit, he’d been kidding himself to think it was just because of his position in town, or even because of hers. Tye could’ve—hell, probably even should’ve—been upfront from the beginning. With the gentlest of touches, with the simplest smile and an honest word of sincerity, she could’ve been his by now. But he hadn’t said anything—and Christ, he regretted it now. Finally touching her, finally soaking in the warmth of her skin, he knew. He knew he’d wasted so much time.
He cautiously held her face in his palms and stroked her skin. Her battered cheek, her quivering chin. Her full bottom lip, moist and soft against his thumb. He wanted to kiss her. Ah God, he was going to kiss her.
Leaning forward, he brushed her lips with his. Careful not to hurt her—or Lord forbid, freak her out—he pressed a little more. Her hands moved up his forearms until she held onto his wrists, but she didn’t move or push him away. She kissed him back lightly, maybe a little unsure. But then her lips parted, and he had to bite back a groan.
Oh hell, she tasted so good. The salt from her tears mixed with a flavor he instinctively knew was pure Laine. He wanted more, needed more…
But instead he pulled away and cautiously rested his forehead against hers. She met his gaze and the tears welling in her beautiful brown eyes nearly broke him. She broke down at that point. Tye held her, rocked her. Tried to ease a bit of the anguish she held inside.
But he failed at that, he knew it. Whatever it was that had Laine so scared was bigger than anything a hug and gentle rocking could take care of. She cried only a few minutes, just enough to let a little of it out, then drifted off again.
Two hours later, the sun began to rise as Tye stared out her hospital room window, listening to her strong, even breaths. She thought she was going to leave this morning, just take off to who-knew-where, but he knew better. After he got a glimpse of her fear, there was only one place he’d be comfortable with her going.
His ranch.
He’d told himself a dozen times over the last hour that the idea of bringing her there had nothing to do with him kissing her, and had even less to do with the way she kissed him back. He’d put up a good front, even in his own mind. But in his gut he knew he’d been lying to himself.
He wanted her. And not in just a I want to lay you down and take you in a hundred different ways want. No, this was an I’ll protect you, please God, let me protect you and keep you safe want.
Deep down he was conscious of his need to do that, even though he had very little time to process the desire. As he looked at her now, curled up underneath the stark white institutional sheets and blanket, a head-banging revelation shot straight through his heart.
If there was ever an award for cluelessness, he’d win it. Hands down, with no contest. He’d been an idiot. A certifiable, no-holds-barred fricking idiot. To not tell her how he felt in the first place… Goddamn it.
But the past was the past, and there was no going back to fix any mistakes. He had to look to the future now and do what was necessary in order to ease her fears and set things right, all the while doing everything in his power to force her to see him as something other than a just a colleague or friend. He needed her to see him as something more. He needed her to see him as the man who would place his life on the line for her. As the man who would protect her, care for her and be there for her.
As the man who would do anything—anything—in order for her to have everything she ever wanted or needed.
Chapter Four
Low, whispered voices drew Laine out of her blessed sleep coma. She stirred, gauging to see if the stampeding animals racing through her brain earlier had calmed themselves enough to let her draw in a breath and open her eyes. The pain was still there when she moved, though not quite as kill-me-now as it had been before. She fluttered her eyelashes and braced herself for a troop of cleat-wearing football players to reenact a bad version of Stomp! in her head as the light reached her pupils, but the dance routine thankfully never materialized.
The room was doused in shadow, but only because the drapes were drawn together over the single window to her right. She knew it had to be early morning, taking her clue from the lone ray of bright sunshine cutting through a crack at the edge of the curtains and slashing a line of fire across the foot of the bed. With the release of a held breath, she managed to raise herself high enough on her elbows to get a good look around, sending up yet another thank-you to the powers that be that her swollen eye had deflated enough she could see out of it now.
Tye stood next to the open door, chatting with a redheaded nurse and holding what looked to be a set of light-blue scrubs. The oomph she let out when she attempted to sit up further caught his attention, and he nearly ran to her side.
“Here, let me help you.”
He wrapped an arm around her back and lifted until he had her upright. Her head swam a little at the new position, and the deep-seated turmoil caused her stomach to roll, but she managed to bite back her impending wretch with another deep breath.
“Ho boy, just shoot me now. Please.”
Tye lifted a hand to her cheek and met her eye to eye. “Queasy?”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
He smiled, but the set of his lips was tight. Tense. Like he was faking, wanting to put her at ease when he wasn’t quite there himself. “Hopefully that will pass soon.” He concentrated on her lips as he spoke, and that unsettled flip of her stomach released its grip to reach up and clutch at her heart instead.
She let her eyes drift shut as she placed her palm against her stomach. To anyone looking, it would appear she was trying to quash an intestinal upheaval, which she was. But she was also using the moment to soak in his touch. His thumb circled the crest of her cheekbone while his fingertips massaged the edge of her earlobe and the sensitive skin underneath. It didn’t take more than a second for the relaxing swirls to set her mind adrift. She floated here and there, from the tangible of his touch right now to the memory of his kiss earlier. She relived the way he took control, the way he knew what she needed even when she wasn’t so sure herself. The kiss was perfect—evocative without being in-your-face—and gave her a real-life glimpse at what she’d spent months only dreaming about.
But it was the memory of the way she kissed him in return that snapped her back to reality. She said so much with the easy way she held onto his wrists and the unquestioning simplicity with which she opened not only her mouth to his, but opened her heart to him as well. The kiss said she trusted him. The kiss said she’d tell him the truth.
Which she would, just not here.
“Better?” His voice was low, like he was leery of disturbing her.
“Getting there,” she whispered back.
“Good.” He turned his body and sat on the edge of the bed, still caressing her cheek.
With an uncomfortable understanding of how an amoeba felt under the blazing eye of a microscope, she opened her eyes and searched the room for something she could use to distract him. Being the focal point certainly wasn’t anything new for he
r, but with her job as Public Defender she was also adept at forcing the spotlight off her and putting it on whichever case came across her desk that needed the most attention at the time. Did the driver who smashed into four cars in the local McDonald’s parking lot really blow a .162 blood alcohol level, or was the breathalyzer dysfunctional as he claimed? Focus on that. Was the client she’d assigned to one of her newer attorneys mentally fit to stand trial? Really easy to draw attention to that.
She drew from that particular skill set now. She eyed the scrubs he’d tossed on the end of the bed and tried to make light. “Making a new fashion statement? Sheriff in scrubs?”
Tye slid his hand from her cheek, down her arm until he reached her hand. He gave a squeeze to her fingers, and said, “They’re for you. It’s against his better judgment, but the doc says he’ll release you.”
“He will?”
Tye nodded. “Yep. Jim’s plastic surgeon stopped in while you were conked out. He took a look at that cut on your head and was able to close it up using medical glue instead of sutures, which is good news.”
She touched the side of her head, lingering for a moment over the fresh bandage. “I didn’t even wake up.”
“No, you were pretty out of it then, and when the nurse came in to unhook you from all the machines, too. Jim said that’s normal, though. It’s not like the old days where everyone thought you couldn’t let a person with a head injury sleep. Rest is probably the best thing for you right now.”
She set aside his concern for her at the moment and focused on his earlier statement instead. “So I can go?”
Tye stood and walked to the end of the bed. He gripped the footboard and met her gaze head-on. “There’s stipulations on that.”
“Stipulations? What kind of stipulations?”
“Jim only agreed to the discharge if you had someone to stay with you.”
“Oh?” It wasn’t too difficult to see where this was headed. “And let me guess. You’re the one who’s going to stay with me.”
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