by Fiona Archer
“Chloe, are you okay?” Flynn leaned forward, his face in front of hers.
Not quite trusting her voice, she nodded and lifted her napkin to her face, wiping away the tears.
Noah rubbed his hand up and down her arm, his brows drawn together in a harsh line. Wanting to reassure both men, she smiled before sipping some more water.
“I’m fine,” she croaked. After a cough to clear her throat, she tried again. “Honestly, I’m okay. Just didn’t think before I drank my coffee.” Her voice sounded stronger.
“Little one, you sure know how to break the moment.” Noah chuckled, his hand still rubbing her arm.
“Sorry about that.” She smiled.
“Don’t worry, baby, we’ll have plenty of moments just like that to make up for it.” Flynn’s dark promise sent a shiver up her spine. No doubt, with his hand still on her arm, Noah felt her reaction.
As Noah signaled the waiter to bring them their bill, Chloe checked her watch. They’d been here close to three hours. Not so hard to imagine when she considered how skilled both men were at making conversation.
Should she invite the men inside her house for a nightcap? She smiled to herself. Like she’d have any chance of turning them away.
Flynn steered Chloe to the restaurant’s lobby and helped her into her coat as Noah settled the bill. They walked to the truck, and Flynn lifted her onto the bench seat then settled himself against her, right up against her. Noah climbed in behind the wheel. Again, Flynn gathered one of her hands in his. Noah placed his hand on her knee, his touch heavy, yet reassuringly so, through the fabric of her dress.
Was she betraying the sisterhood by not taking offense at their domineering behavior? How could she fight the part of her, one she’d so recently discovered, that thrived under this masculine attention? Every time these alpha males asserted their inner beasts, her clit zinged with pleasure.
Chloe gave a start when Noah parked the truck in her driveway. She’d been daydreaming again.
Hang on—no porch light shining in welcome?
“That’s funny, the bulb must have blown,” she murmured more to herself than anyone.
The men exchanged a look. Chloe could almost pick the second their bodies keyed with a higher energy, as if poised for…anything.
“Hey, guys, it’s just a light. Don’t go all badass commando on me now.” She grimaced, the hardness staying on their faces as they stared toward her house.
Noah looked down at her with what she had come to term his “alpha” look, one of those “don’t even bother arguing with me” type looks that really got on her nerves.
“Honey, give me your front door key.”
With a frustrated little sigh, she opened her evening bag and picked out her key, handing it to Noah. Flynn grabbed a flashlight from the glove box and passed it to Noah, who nodded his thanks and grabbed her free hand.
“Chloe, you stay here with Flynn. I’m just going to make sure everything’s okay.” After giving her hand a reassuring squeeze, he got out of the truck and moved to the front door. Close to the front steps, he reached under the hem of his jeans and came away with a weapon in his hands.
A gun? She might have known he wouldn’t enter without one.
“Flynn, I’m sure everything is fine.”
Flynn tracked Noah as he made his way to the front door. “Sure, luv, but we’ll let Noah check it out.” He turned to face her. “We won’t take any chances with your safety, Chloe. Get used to that.”
She chose to ignore that and kept silent as light flooded her porch and doorway. One by one, the windows of other rooms in her house were illuminated as Noah moved through the house.
Flynn never moved his gaze from her front door as a minute flew by.
“Motherfucker!”
Noah’s curse rang out across the night.
Chloe moved toward the driver’s door, wanting to get out and see what was wrong. But Flynn’s reflexes were faster than she’d imagined. He reached across and hauled her onto his lap, her back facing his passenger side door. Arms like steel bands held her prisoner against his chest.
Mouth agape, she stared at Flynn. He continued to monitor the house, his face impassive, as if carved from stone.
Coming to her senses, she struggled to break out of his hold but only succeeded in making herself breathless. The rock-hard strength of his chest and arms had no give.
“Flynn, for God’s sake—”
“Don’t even think of trying to move. All you’ll do is tire yourself out.” Steel-gray eyes stared back at her, showing neither anger nor impatience. Flynn’s whole demeanor was one of controlled force.
“You’ve underestimated my level of energy,” she snapped, wrenching against his hold. Her huff soon turned into a puff. Her mouth jammed into a hard line as she battled overtime, holding back a curse.
“Quiet, Chloe. I need to hear Noah,” Flynn said.
A minute later, Noah climbed down the front steps, his cell phone pressed to his ear. He finished his call before climbing back into the truck.
“Noah, what’s going on? What happened?”
Noah ignored Chloe, his face shadowed into a harsh mask from the overhead light of the truck’s cab. Instead, he took a couple of deep breaths. Seconds later, he twisted his body toward her, one arm resting on the steering wheel, the other raised in front of him as he reached over and gently stroked her hair. His tight features relaxed a fraction. He switched his gaze to Flynn.
“Her house has been vandalized. The lock on the front door was busted. Everything’s been turned over, but judging by what I could see, it’s not your typical robbery. Her TV and DVD player are still there. I did a full sweep of the house, and it’s clear.” Both men ignored her gasp, though Flynn loosened his hold, using one hand to rub the outside of her arm.
“Fucking bastard!” Flynn ground out the curse.
“My sentiments exactly. Two deputies are on their way.” Noah faced Chloe, his hard stare spiking her temper. She’d just had her house burglarized. What the hell was his problem?
He slid his arm off the steering wheel and pulled a small object out of his jacket pocket. It took a few seconds for her to recognize her cell phone.
“My phone? That’s right. I’d left it at home. I meant to stuff it in my purse.” She tried to lift her arm to take the phone, but Flynn’s tight hold held her in check.
A sickening feeling built in the pit of her stomach as Noah skimmed the phone’s menu. Holding her cell phone up before him, his eyes stabbed her as the screen advised of an unanswered call. He scrolled to the last voice mail message and hit the play button.
“Surprise, Chloe. You didn’t think I’d find you, did you?” Sigh. “You always underestimated me. Just like Dad. Now you haven’t answered my call. Another disappointment. They’re adding up. I’ll call you again. Soon.”
Call ended 8:42 p.m. To save this call—
Noah ended the message.
Chloe felt like all the oxygen in the truck’s cab had evaporated. She struggled to breathe as her safe little world churned and spun out of control.
“Just like Dad,” Noah repeated.
She stared back at him, mute at the sight of his cold stare.
“‘Sometimes people just don’t click’? Left some details out of your story, didn’t you, luv.”
Chapter Six
Noah stood guard in Chloe’s driveway, sucking in a lungful of the frigid night air. He made a quick visual of the pint-sized teacher sitting stony faced in the truck’s cab and chuckled. Annoyed much?
He and Flynn had refused to let her into her house until the two deputies had completed a check for fingerprints and taken photos. Flynn had joined them, insisting on inspecting the damage for himself.
Jesus, they’d been lucky. If Chloe had been home by herself…
Fury, hot and sharp like a knife, speared his gut. He clenched his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket. Get a grip, soldier. In business or on a mission, you let your training take
control. You keep it professional.
This time matters weren’t so cut and dry. Trent Young had made a fatal mistake. He’d made it personal.
There was no proof the bastard was behind the break-in, but the timing was perfect. Maybe too perfect. Was he rushing to judge Trent guilty? A check of Chloe’s phone proved futile. No caller ID. Prepaid? Sheriff Quilter and his team would follow the usual formalities. However, with nobody hurt and limited resources, there was piss-all chance of a manhunt over a breaking and entering. King’s Bluff County was small, nestled between Sheridan and Johnson counties. As a budget measure, the town of King’s Bluff, which was also the county seat, had no chief of police and instead covered the expense of a sheriff and his team of deputies.
Noah needed extra help. That’s where Quinn came into the picture. After Noah’s phone call five minutes ago, Baldy was alerting his contacts in LA and drawing up a battle plan.
Noah crossed his arms in front of his chest. Young needed a few life lessons. No problem. He and Flynn were happy to accommodate.
That didn’t solve the issue of Chloe’s unwillingness to trust them. While they’d waited for the deputies to arrive, she’d refused to answer any questions regarding Young and their fractured relationship.
He jammed his fingers through his hair and punched out a sigh, sending a frosty vapor into the air.
What did she think was going to happen? She’d somehow handle Trent on her own? Worse, run away and start over again? Fuck that for a lousy joke.
At a time more convenient, say when she was tied helpless in their bed, he and Flynn would take delight in exploring her trust issues as any Dom would do.
If he hadn’t spotted her cell phone sitting atop her torn bedsheets and played Trent’s message, they’d never have found out about his call. Man, the fucker had gone to town in her house.
The creak of a truck door opening carried over the still night. Noah whipped around.
Chloe was attempting to slide down from the bench seat. He’d swear the jut of her chin poked holes in the air.
He reached the passenger door before her feet touched the ground, blocking her escape. Damn, he couldn’t help but smile at her pursed lips and eyes spitting fire.
“Chloe, stay in the truck until Flynn gives us the all clear.” Noah grabbed the side of the door and thwarted her effort to swing it wide.
“You’ve already checked the house. Nobody’s lurking inside. Why can’t I go in? It is my property.” Chloe fisted her hands in her lap.
“Correct, and if allowed, you’d be stomping through it right now, disturbing evidence. Bloody shame you’ve got a pair of over-protective bastards determined to keep you safe. Sit tight, wait a couple more minutes, and then I’ll let you loose.”
“Oh for God’s sake.” She threw herself back against the bench seat.
Noah stepped away and closed the passenger door, wanting to keep her in and the chill night air out.
Not five minutes later, Flynn, accompanied by the two King’s Bluff deputies, emerged from the house. Chloe flung the door open and slid to the ground before Noah could assist her. His lips twitched as she marched over to meet the men halfway across her front lawn. She tilted her head back. And there was that chin again.
“Do I finally have the all clear to enter my own property?” Her question came out more of a bark.
Flynn’s gaze turned steel hard as he remained silent. The two deputies, young and eager but green saplings when standing next to Flynn, exchanged glances and took a step away.
Noah smiled at the hitch of Chloe’s breath and the quick flick of her tongue over her lips. Ah, yes, challenging Flynn when he was in hard-arse protector mode was not the best of ideas.
“Sorry, I’m a little keyed up.” She puffed out a sigh. “It’s been a bit of a wait to get inside.”
Flynn’s shoulders relaxed, his gaze defrosting in an instant. “Understandable. You’ll follow me inside and obey my instructions. There’s plenty of debris around, and I don’t want you getting hurt. Understood?” Flynn’s mouth twitched at her begrudging nod of acquiescence.
Noah moved up beside her. “Remember, Chloe, we won’t leave your side.”
After her nod to Noah, Flynn clasped her hand, and the three of them made a somber procession to her front door, the deputies following behind.
* * * *
Chloe climbed the last step on the porch, and then sucked in some air. She let go of Flynn’s hand and rubbed her palms down her thighs. Imagine the worst and you’ll be okay. She stepped forward, her chest tightening with every indrawn breath, and cleared the doorway.
She froze.
This was her living room? It was…unrecognizable. Where were the hand-stitched cushions, the framed Picasso print on the wall, the big green vase? So much anger.
In a daze, she scanned over the debris. Her reading chair, a heavy leather thing, lay on its side, wedged into a corner. The long gash of a knife tore down the arm of the rich brown leather. Ripped. Violated. The one belonging she had of her father’s. Bastard.
Noah’s hands gripped her upper arms. “Chloe, we can go back outside.” His gentle tone was almost her undoing.
She shook her head and stiffened her spine. “No. I need to do this.”
“Follow my step, luv.” Flynn claimed her hand and then guided her through the living room. Her gaze roved from side to side. So many stories destroyed. A yellow and blue planter pot from a trip to Mexico. A clay figure from that little craft shop she’d loved in Monterey—all smashed. Her things, defiled by a stranger…or Trent. She swallowed against a wave of nausea. Jesus, had he found her? She’d been so careful.
Two steps past the bureau next to the dining table, she gasped. Her treasured jade platter lay in pieces on the floor.
“No!” She dropped to her knees and then reached out a shaky hand.
“Sweetie, you could cut yourself. Let me.” Flynn moved her to the side, picking up the pieces of the plate and laying them out on the kitchen counter.
Her fingers skimmed over the glazed coating of the plate, then assembled the shards together like a jigsaw. Tears puddled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
“This was my grandmother’s. Mom used it when she served tea.” She swallowed hard. “She’d bake tiny cakes and lay them out. When I was a little girl, I’d play hostess and carry it around and serve the treats to Mom’s friends.” Wearing Mary Janes and her yellow dress, the one with the frill trim on the sleeves and hem. Whatever happened to that dress? “I used to think it was so classy and grown up.” Her attempt at laugher couldn’t hide the choked sob that ripped from her throat. She spun away and scrubbed her hands over her face, blotting the tears. Later, she’d cry. For now, she needed to move past the hell in front of her. She squared her shoulders then set off toward her bedroom.
Behind her, she heard Flynn address the deputies. “Guys, can you give us a minute?”
“No problem. We’ll wait here.”
She reached the bedroom doorway, her hand curling around the wooden frame.
“We’re right here, sweetheart.” Flynn’s strong hands squeezed her shoulders and pulled her back to lean against his chest. She soaked up his strength and willed her legs not to buckle.
Her bedroom resembled a war zone. The pillows lay torn apart. Soft downy clumps covered every surface of the room. Her sheets, ripped and crumpled, sat in a pile on the bed. The drawers of her bedside table had been dumped upside down on the floor, and her personal papers strewn around them. Every drawer of her dresser stood open to varying degrees, clothing dangling over the sides.
“Chloe, nobody can hurt you,” Noah said, giving her arm a squeeze.
Chloe gave a jerky nod. One shaky step forward, then a couple more, and she was beside the bed.
“Oh, my God.” She covered her mouth with her hands.
Bitch
The insult, scrawled in letters two feet high, screamed in stark contrast against the white of her bedroom wall. The thief or…Tre—s
he couldn’t bring herself to think of him in her bedroom—had used more than one red lipstick to write his endearment. His anger so uncontrolled, the sick pervert had worn down one lipstick on the letter “i,” the grooves of the container etched into the plaster.
My God, he hates me this much?
Trent? Those cold, clear eyes. Focused. His every movement calculated. He’d held court all those years ago, his arm hooked protectively around her shoulders, answering the detective’s questions. Tonight’s rage was so out of control. He must have totally lost it to have done this.
Was he out in the dark, hidden away, watching her? What was she going to do, flee…again? And go where? Nowhere is safe.
The tremors started as tiny shakes, her fingertips tapping against her cheeks until she lowered her hands and hugged herself. Her chest tightened. Can’t get enough air.
Noah’s voice cut through her silent meltdown. “Right, we’re out of here.” He curled an arm around her. Cuddled against his side, she leaned in close as he steered her back to the combined dining and living area.
The deputies had righted the dining chairs around the table. Noah sat her down in one before squatting before her. He gathered up her hands, rubbing them between his while Flynn spoke in hushed tones to the officers. Her gaze drifted right, past the living area and through the front windows into the inky black of the night. Trent was out there somewhere. She sucked in a couple of deep breaths.
“Keep her here.” Flynn’s footsteps echoed down the hallway toward her bedroom.
“Chloe, look at me.”
Without hesitation, she turned her face back to Noah. His sharp gaze examined her, as if he was stripping every fact and emotion from her brain. Whatever it was he saw must have satisfied him. He nodded and gave her hands a squeeze.
“Sweetie, you’re doing a great job, and I’m proud of you. We need you to answer a few questions. You up to that, luv?”
“O-okay.” She tightened her jaw and sat straighter in the chair. In an hour, she’d be on her own and could bawl her eyes out to her shattered heart’s content.