Claim & Protect Page 4

  Oh yeah. Nothing got past Trevor Raines. She scrambled for something to say, anything to put him off course.

  He tensed and narrowed his eyes. “He hit you?”

  “Uh...”

  “Or was it Levi?”

  She clamped her lips together hard, fighting the need to run and hide away in her room like she’d always done with Wyatt.

  But this wasn’t Wyatt. This was Trevor. A man whose employees respected him and who ran a tight ship at work. Who’d calmly walked up beside her and taken a stand against her ex. Although, the way that he studied her now, she was beginning to think her new boss wasn’t quite as laid-back as she’d thought underneath.

  Trevor’s gaze shot to the front door, then back to Natalie. “He got any way of getting in your apartment?”

  “No. I told the people who manage the place there’s history I’m trying to get away from, so they know better than to let him in. I’ve told Levi and my mom never to answer the door for anyone.”

  “So he did hit you.”

  In that second, Natalie half expected Trevor to launch out of his seat and track Wyatt all the way to his fancy Grapevine home. The idea should have terrified her. Or at least have spurred her to defuse Trevor’s growing anger. Instead, all she could process was relief. A much-appreciated sense of protection after months of feeling alone, no matter if the sensation was real or not.

  “Should have decked the fucker like I wanted.” Trevor scanned her tight posture, let out a slow breath through his nose, and unclenched his hand on the table. “Sorry. Abuse is a trigger for me.”

  It was? The unexpected scrap of information hit her so hard out of left field, she nearly asked him as much, but caught herself before she could let the question air. She’d already shared more with her boss than she should. Asking him personal questions would only clear the path for him to dig deeper in return. “It’s okay. I understand.”

  Behind her, the coffee maker gurgled and hissed as the last of the hot water emptied the reservoir. She stood and motioned for Trevor to keep his seat when he started to do the same. “Relax. I appreciate the manners in front of Levi, but it’s not necessary with me. How do you take your coffee?”

  “Black’s fine.”

  Natalie shuddered and pulled out a few of her mother’s oversized clay mugs. The yellow cups had been in her mother’s kitchen as long as she could remember and would probably work as self-defense weapons given how heavy they were, but they brought good memories. “I don’t know how anyone can drink the stuff straight. I need almost as much milk and sugar in mine as I do coffee.”

  “Got a sweet tooth, huh?”

  She poured the coffee and slid the carafe back on the burner. “Guilty. Pastries, cakes, or candy, it doesn’t matter. I’m a glutton.” Pouring milk in one cup, she huffed out a chuckle. “Makes keeping my booty a reasonable size a bit of a challenge the older I get, but if I have to choose between dessert or a small behind, then I’ll take dessert, thank you very much.”

  She finished off stirring in her sugar, turned with both mugs in hand, and nearly stumbled mid-stride back to the table.

  Trevor’s smile was gone and his smoldering gaze took a long, leisurely trip up her body. “If sweets are what give you those curves, I’d say it’d be a damn shame for anything healthy to pass your lips.”

  Dear Lord in heaven. How any woman alive could keep from melting into a puddle of goo beneath that expression, she’d never know. It’d been years since a man had looked at her like that, and wowza, did it do a number on her girly parts.

  “Thank you.” It was a lame retort, but what else was she supposed to say? No matter how good the attention felt, he was still her boss. Even if he wasn’t, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be up for tangling with another man. Clearly, her judgment wasn’t sound enough to pick healthy partners.

  She set his coffee in front of him and carefully took her seat, blowing across the top of her mug and studiously avoiding his gaze.

  “Your kid’s a hoot.” One simple, easy statement and he had them back on track.

  Part of her was reluctant to let the moment go, but it was probably for the best. “He’s the spitting image of his dad at that age, but they couldn’t be more different in personality. Levi’s got a huge heart. And he’s smart. Never misses anything.” Some of the moment’s lightheartedness dimmed. “Especially not the struggles I was having with Wyatt. Even as a toddler, he steered clear of his dad or found creative ways to keep us apart.”

  “How the hell did an abusive dad end up with joint custody?”

  For a moment, she thought about deflecting and keeping them in safe conversational territory, but having someone to talk to, someone willing to simply listen for once, was too tempting to pass up. “Because Wyatt is nothing if not connected. Aside from the car and our clothes, I didn’t ask for anything in the divorce except for custody of Levi. So naturally, that’s the one thing he wanted.”

  “But he hit his own kid. The judge didn’t factor that in?”

  She shook her head and cupped both hands around her mug on the table. “It only happened once to Levi, and once to me before that. When he hit me, it woke me up. I started planning and saving. But when it escalated to Levi, I knew I couldn’t wait any longer. I got us out as soon as Wyatt left for work the next day. Only problem was, the mark Wyatt left on Levi’s cheek wasn’t enough to convince the police Levi had done anything except fall off a bike. Wyatt played me up as a vengeful wife, and the judge bought it.”

  On the surface, Trevor seemed to keep his cool, but the air around him changed. Whatever it was that somehow tied him with abuse, it was entrenched deep.

  She laid one hand on his wrist and squeezed. “Let it go. God knows that’s what I’m trying to do.”

  Trevor’s gaze dropped to the place where her hand rested. Almost as quickly, he circled his wrist, bringing her hand so it rested inside his palm, and smoothed his thumb against her knuckles. “Hard to let it go when he’s knocking on your door.”

  “True.” Much as it killed her to do so, she pulled her hand away and sipped her coffee, the warmth of his casual but oh-so-delicious touch heating her from head to toe. He was her boss. Nothing else. “Eventually, Wyatt will fixate on something or someone else, and he’ll accept I’m not coming back. That’s my hope anyway.”

  “That’s what he wants? You two to reconcile?”

  “No, he made it quite clear what a disappointment I was as a wife. According to him, my getting pregnant ruined our marriage. He wanted someone to attend events and travel with him when it suited, not the responsibility of a parent. Though, if you ask me, what really pissed him off was that he wasn’t the center of attention anymore.”

  “Then why’s he coming around?”

  “Because he can’t have me, and Wyatt always wants what he can’t have.” She winced. “That sounds really pompous doesn’t it?”

  “Not if it’s the truth. And he wouldn’t be the first man who didn’t know how to take no for an answer.”

  “What about you?”

  He cocked his head and crossed one foot over his knee. It’d been forever since she’d owned a pair of boots. Well over a decade, in fact, but she’d bet good money his black boots were top-dollar Luccheses. “What about me?”

  “I’ve spilled my guts since you got here, and all I know about you is you’ve got the patience of a saint and are Deep Ellum’s reigning pub king.”

  “Pub king?”

  She shrugged. “That’s what Ivan calls you. He says most bar owners don’t hold a following in that part of town as long as you’ve been able to.”

  He smiled and rubbed his knuckles along his chin. He didn’t quite have a five-o’clock shadow yet, but she’d bet he’d have an irresistible one first thing in the morning. Clean shaven, he was dreamy, but with some stubble he’d be every d
addy’s worst nightmare. “I got lucky with The Den. Though my brothers know bars like a native language. They guided me into it. My real love is flying.”

  She raised her eyebrows, silently encouraging him for more.

  “Been flying since I was eighteen. Once I met my brothers, I set out to make it my profession. Now I’ve got a private charter service.”

  “What do you mean you ‘met your brothers’?”

  His expression blanked. It wasn’t a complete shutdown, but more of a topic he didn’t quite seem ready to share. “Long story.” Picking up his mug, he uncrossed his leg and stood. “It’s late, and according to your application, you’ve got a day job tomorrow.”

  She nodded and stood as well, torn between begging him to sit back down, and welcoming the chance to be alone and gather her wits. Funny, looking back at the time since he’d arrived it was more than just the physical contact that had shaken her. It was the connection, too. The ease of talking to him and the way he made her feel safe just by being here.

  She took his mug and carried it to the sink. “Thank you again for what you did. I know you didn’t have to, but I’m hoping it’ll get Wyatt to back off for a little while.” Not to mention her baby boy would be chattering nonstop about manners and cowboy boots for days.

  “You’re my employee, Natalie. You don’t have to thank me.”

  See? That’s all his action had been grounded on. A good man looking out for someone he felt responsible for. Still, lightening the mood with a little playfulness couldn’t hurt. She planted a hand on one hip and leaned into the counter. “You’re telling me you spend a lot of time checking up on all your waitresses after hours?”

  “Nope. I’m saying I’ve got a vested interest in you having your head in the game at work. If that means helping you not worry about your boy by stepping in, it’s a no-brainer.” He grinned. “Plus, it satisfies the shit out of me for a man like Wyatt to get a little of his own medicine.”

  With that little quip, he winked and sauntered to the door.

  Natalie followed, shamelessly enjoying the way his faded jeans molded to his very nice ass. Funny, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d ogled a man, but Trevor was a prime candidate for brushing up on long-dead skills.

  He opened the door, studied the parking lot beyond, and motioned at the blinds he’d opened. “You close those up, and lock up tight, all right?”

  “Yep. Got it.”

  For a handful of heartbeats, he just stood there, studying her. “Want you to promise me something.”

  She tilted her head. “What kind of promise?”

  He narrowed his eyes and stepped close. The same woodsy cologne that had coiled around her when he’d tucked her tight to his side assailed her senses and sent her heart kicking in a happy rhythm. “I appreciate you’ve told your mom and Levi not to answer the door, but if your ex comes back, I want your promise you won’t answer the door either. And I don’t give a fuck what kind of beef the cops gave you in the past. He shows, you call ’em anyway.”

  “That’s two promises.”

  God, he had an amazing smile. Gorgeous white teeth and a roguishness that made her insides tingle. “Yeah, it is. Now tell me you’ll do what I asked.”

  She nodded, too muddled by his presence to do anything else.

  “Good.” He cupped the side of her face and brushed his thumb along her cheekbone, the simple touch alighting flutters in places she really shouldn’t feel for her boss. If she could have frozen the moment, she would have done it in a second. Savored every heightened sensation and clung to it on the nights when loneliness and fear crept in.

  “If the cops don’t treat you the way they should, you let me know.” He dropped his hand and the loss resonated through every part of her, a chill that had nothing to do with the open door licking beneath her skin. He strolled out the door, but there was no missing the dark promise in his parting words. “Wyatt’s not the only man with connections.”

  Chapter Four

  Texas might be the closest thing to hell on earth in the summer, but in late October there was no place better. Seventy-two degrees and not one cloud in the sky. If it weren’t for the twenty-plus errands still left to tackle before sunset, Trevor would ditch reality and get a bird in the air. As it was though, The Den’s first Halloween bash was only four days away and he was nowhere near ready.

  He pulled his truck up outside Beck and Knox’s security office and punched the gearshift into park. Aside from the badass brushed steel sign that read Citadel Security above tinted, double glass doors, the single-story building had zero personality. Just sterile gray concrete that stretched a good fifty feet in either direction and some shrubbery hardy enough it could live through three droughts and still not die.

  He was still five feet away from the entrance when the security latch clicked open. Trevor swung the door wide and found Knox’s newest employee perched behind her pristine desk, smiling ear-to-ear. On first blush, she didn’t seem the intellectual type. More like a woman who’d choose a trip to the spa or a shopping trip over networks and hardware. But the second anyone got past general introductions and steered toward technical jargon, the pretty little blonde bowled people over with her smarts.

  “Good to see you again, Mr. Raines.”

  “Good to see you too, Katy, but if you don’t quit calling me by my last name, I’m gonna make Knox give you nothing but outdated computers to work with.”

  “He’d have to pry my babies out of my cold dead fingers first.” She smirked and waved him toward Knox’s office on the right. “Go on back. He’s waiting for you.”

  Of course he was. Knox was nothing if not plugged in, especially where his brothers were concerned. The first thing he’d done when Trevor had bought his newest truck was install a tracking device. Ever since, Trevor’d been a little afraid to drink too much around the guy for fear he’d pass out and wake up with a tracker installed at the base of his skull.

  He strolled down the long hallway, the glass walls on both sides showcasing a whole lot of technical muscle. Tidy wires ran in neat rows up the backs of each server stack then disappeared in iron grids above, but it was the soft blue glow emanating from overhead and behind the equipment that gave the rooms a space-age edge. He rapped two quick knocks on the ebony door at the end and pushed it open without waiting for an answer.

  A blast of air to rival a January cold snap hit him hard. “Damn, brother. It’s October, not August. What’s with the overdone AC?”

  Knox’s fingers worked fast and furious on the keyboard, his eyes locked on one of four oversized monitors arranged in a semicircle around him. “Your horses like working hard in the heat?”

  “Not if they can help it.”

  “Well, neither do mine. Mine just run on wires and electricity instead of flesh and blood.” He hit the enter button a few times and spun in his uber-sleek office chair. Mounted high on the wall behind him were at least fifteen smaller monitors with feeds from all kinds of businesses that relied on his and Beckett’s watchful eye. “What brings you to my electronic empire?”

  Trevor dropped into one of the cushioned chairs in the sitting area to one side of Knox’s command central. It was way more contemporary than anything he’d ever want to be surrounded by, but it was comfortable and fit Knox’s super-spy vibe. “Want to have you take another look at Ivan Bower.”

  “Your new manager?”

  “Yep. I invited him out for Thanksgiving, but I’m thinking it’s time to dig deeper in his past.”

  Knox raised both eyebrows. “You’re putting him up for the brotherhood?”

  “Maybe.” God knew, he’d never met a man more willing to put himself out there. Ivan might have first been hired as a bouncer, but he’d worked his way up to his new position by taking on any task needed. Hauling trash, dealing with puking drunks and calming down i
rate customers—he dealt with them all with the same care and attention he put on each night’s bank deposit. And while Ivan had never shared much about his past, Trevor had a hunch it was ugly. It said something about a man who went through hard times and still came out whole on the other side. “Thought you guys could talk him up and see what your instincts say.”

  “Kinda early for a deep dive then, isn’t it?”

  “Not gonna bring it up at rally unless I’m sure he’s good for us.”

  Knox shrugged and anchored one leg over the other. “Easy enough.”

  In one of the monitors, a feed from The Den caught his eye. This early in the day there weren’t much in the way of customers, just a few businessmen who’d ditched work early for a drink and some hipsters hanging at the bar. For about the twentieth time that day, his mind shuttled back to Natalie. How she’d looked at him before he’d left last night. Those brown eyes of hers had been big enough a man could drown and lose himself in a heartbeat if he wasn’t careful. And those lips? Yeah, he’d do well to keep a safe distance between him and his curvy employee.

  “Something else on your mind, or did someone kick your dog?”

  Trevor frowned and refocused on Knox. “Need you to do some digging on a guy named Wyatt Jordan. He’s a plastic surgeon. Lives in Grapevine.”

  Knox spun to his keyboard and started typing. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

  How the guy got his fingers to move that fast and not come out with a whole lot of gobbledygook, Trevor would never know. Heck, he did good to use his two pointy fingers and not fuck up whatever he was typing. “You did a base-level background check on my new waitress a few weeks back. Natalie Jordan. Wyatt’s her ex.”

  “Little brunette? Has a young kid?”

  “That’s the one.”

  Knox stopped typing and faced him, his focus about five times sharper than seconds before. “What’s she to you?”

  “Besides an employee, nothing, but I broke up a shouting match between her and Wyatt last night, and I wanna know what kind of blowback it might earn me.”