Witness (Guardians Book 1) Read online

  “When, Brock?” I laid the knife down. “When will you sort it out? It’s been over a month and I want to go back to my life. I have been here long enough to get my cast off. It’s too long, Brock.” I picked the knife back up and mumbled, “Way too frickin’ long.”

  “I’m gonna go outside for a bit,” Dallas said as he stood and headed out the back slider, closing it behind him.

  Brock didn’t waste any time as he pulled the knife from my hand and gathered me in his arms. Hand at my head, pressing my cheek to his chest, he pulled me close and I let myself go. I burst into tears and sobbed into his long-sleeved T-shirt.

  “That’s good, baby. Let it out.”

  “Stop calling me baby.”

  “No.”

  I didn’t know why, but this struck me funny and I couldn’t stop a giggle, even though I was still crying, and it came out more like a sob.

  He lifted my chin and wiped his thumbs along my cheeks, removing my tears. “I’m done denying this, Bailey. Done denying you. Dallas knows―”

  “Knows what?”

  “About my feelings. He knows all of it now, and he’s got my back. I’ll tell Jaxon when it’s right.”

  “I’m sorry?” I had suddenly moved from despair, to funny, to down-right mad.

  “Us. I want to make us work.”

  “Oh, my god, Brock. Are you serious?” I snapped.

  He appeared genuinely shocked by my irritation. “Why are you mad?”

  “If I have to tell you that, then you’re an idiot.” I grabbed the knife again and he stepped back a bit. I went back to the asparagus, swearing when I realized I chopped the spears a little smaller than I had intended.

  Note to self: don’t cook while pissed off.

  “Bailey, you take a minute to think about this and calm down and then we’ll talk.” He pointed to my hand. “Without weapons.”

  Brock joined Dallas on the patio and I went back to my food prep. I didn’t really understand why I was so mad, I just was. Then it dawned on me. Steak, potatoes, cheesecake in the fridge, a bottle of red wine sitting on the counter…Brock had gone shopping. And he’d gone shopping and bought the same thing I’d devoured approximately twenty-eight days ago.

  Seriously insightful and seriously sweet…and seriously annoying.

  Brock and Dallas didn’t drink on duty, and since I was their duty twenty-four, seven, I’d never seen them drink even a beer. But I wasn’t on duty, a fact I’d pointed out last time I was PMSing and didn’t have wine to take the edge off. The very next day after my meltdown, the safe house was stocked with various bottles of wine and chocolate. I’d put a list together and Brock…or Dallas, I wasn’t sure which…had bought everything on my list.

  Really, super nice guys, even if they were badasses, skilled enough to shoot a pea off a railing from a mile away. My words, not theirs…and I was speculating, particularly because I’d never actually seen either of them shoot a pea off a railing from any distance. But since I tended to quite like the idea of a cowboy, I really liked the idea that the man I was falling for (hard) could shoot a pea off a railing from a mile away.

  I heard the slider open and glanced up to see Brock set one foot inside the door.

  “Safe to enter?” he asked.

  “Yes.” I laid my knife down and grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

  He smiled, stepping further inside and closing the door. “Nothing to apologize for.”

  “I think I’m PMSing.”

  “Yeah, babe, I know. I put a few personal things in your bathroom for you.”

  “You did not.”

  “I did.”

  I felt the heat creep up my neck. “Please tell me you had a female agent acquire said personal things.”

  “Honey, I’m man enough to walk into a store and buy a box of tampons.”

  And that’s when it happened. He stood smiling at me, having declared he’d just bought me tampons, and I fell in love. Right there, on the spot. In love. Not the puppy love, he’s hot, she’s hot, let’s get it on kind of not lasting love. But the forever, give my body and soul to this man, kind of love.

  “Damn it!” I snapped.

  “Bailey? You okay?” He watched me carefully…for all of three seconds…and then I was once again gathered in his arms in the kitchen of a safe house in the middle of suburbia. “What?”

  “I love you.” Just threw it out there. No filter Bailey strikes again.

  And he laughed. Laughed at me. His body shook, and I tried to push away from him, my anger and irritation rising again. “This isn’t funny.”

  “It is funny.” He lifted my chin, cupped my cheeks, and kissed me. “It’s funny because I know that. It’s funny because I love you too…I just figured it out a little quicker…and it’s funny because you’re so fucking gorgeous it makes my heart hurt to think you might walk out that door when this is over and go back to your life without me.”

  I licked my lips. “You love me, too?”

  “Yes, Bailey. I love you, too.”

  “But how do you know you love me?”

  “The same way you know you love me.”

  I melted into him. “Then that’s a lot. Like a lot a lot.”

  “I know.” He kissed my hair. “Steaks ready for me to grill?”

  I nodded, but held him a little tighter. “In a second.”

  He chuckled and gave me a squeeze. We stood there for several minutes before I let him go and we went about making dinner. A very domestic act that I felt I could get used to.

  * * *

  Later that night, I tossed and turned, still not finding sleep an hour after I’d said goodnight. A quiet knock sounded at my door and I sat up. “Come in.”

  Brock walked in and leaned against the doorframe. “You okay?”

  “I can’t sleep.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  I rolled my eyes. “How could you possibly know?”

  “Because your feet have hit the hardwoods no less than six times since you said goodnight.” He made his way to the other side of the mattress, lifting the covers and sliding in beside me.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Keeping the demons at bay.”

  I frowned. “Where’s Dallas?”

  “Out.” He scooted closer, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling my back against his chest.

  “He’s not here?”

  “No. He’s checking on something.”

  “For my stuff?”

  “Yes, baby.”

  “Brock. I get that you told him you loved me and everything, but if he comes home, I think he might have an issue with us in bed together.”

  “I didn’t tell him I loved you.”

  “What?” I whispered, sitting up again. “You lied to me?”

  He chuckled, shaking his head. “Bailey.”

  “Oh, my god, Brock, don’t laugh at me. It’s not funny.”

  “Claws back in, baby,” he said, tugging me back down. “I couldn’t tell him I loved you when I hadn’t told you yet, could I?”

  “So, you didn’t lie,” I whispered.

  “No, Bailey. I didn’t lie. I don’t lie.” Brock kissed my shoulder. “Look, I’m done resisting. We’re gonna do this, even if it’s here.”

  “You could lose your job.”

  “I won’t lose my job.”

  I rolled to face him and squeezed his chin. “Isn’t there some kind of scientific data that proves relationships formed under extreme emotional distress never last?”

  “When I say I’m gonna do something, I do it.”

  “I get that, Brock. I really do. But what happens when life goes back to normal and we don’t work?”

  Brock smiled. “Baby, we work.”

  “How do you know we work? We haven’t had a normal date.”

  “Didn’t you just tell me you loved me?”

  “Yes.”

  “You changed your mind?”

  “Well, no.

  Leaning forward, he kissed my collar
bone. “So, we’re forged in the abnormal, but we work.”

  “What if you break my heart?” I rasped as he moved down my body, slipping my camisole up and over my head and kissing my stomach.

  “I won’t break your heart,” he promised, and then frowned up at me. “Bailey, you gave me the most important part of you and when I say that, I mean your heart. Something you haven’t given to anyone else. Do you really think I’ll ever let you go?”

  I bit my lip.

  “Baby,” he whispered, sliding back up to face me. “What?”

  “What if I’m not enough? I’ve only kissed two guys before you and never had sex and you’re…well, you’re you.”

  “Which means what?”

  “You’ve slept with more than a few women and know exactly what you’re doing. I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep up.” I wrinkled my nose. “I might disappoint you.”

  “How do you know how many women I’ve slept with?” he challenged.

  “I’m guessing.”

  He grinned. “Baby, you could never disappoint me.”

  “You say that now because you’re horny and I’m half-naked.”

  “No, I’m saying that because I’m going to marry you.”

  My eyes widened. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “You’re not going to marry me.”

  “I am, Bailey.”

  I leaned up on my arms. “You’re not really being serious, right?”

  Brock didn’t answer, just grinned, sliding down my body again to draw a nipple into his mouth. I moaned as his hand slipped between my legs, sliding my panties aside, his thumb finding my sensitive nub and working it while he slipped a finger inside of me, then two.

  “Brock,” I breathed.

  Sliding my lace panties from my body, he moved his mouth from my nipples and, kneeling in front of me, he pushed my legs open, kissing the inside of my thighs. I squirmed as he moved lower, and then his mouth was on me and I lost my mind. I wove my fingers into his hair as he worked my body into a frenzy. I was right. His hair was perfect to grab while he ate me out.

  “Come for me, baby,” he ordered, then went back to his task.

  I panted, tiny moans escaping my mouth as the orgasm built and then I climaxed, calling out his name. Brock kissed my inner thigh again and focused back on my breasts.

  The rest of the night was a serious exercise in body exploration. But no sex. And even without sex, Brock managed to give me more than six orgasms using his mouth and his fingers, but without condoms, he refused to go any further.

  My last coherent thought as I drifted off to sleep was, maybe I would marry him.

  Bailey

  I WOKE, MY body overheating, which was unusual for me. When I shifted, I realized why. I was covered by a human blanket. I was on my stomach, Brock half covering me, his chest to my back, one leg between mine and his arms wrapped tight around me.

  I sighed, my body pleasantly sore from our activity the night before. I shifted again, and Brock tightened his hold. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?” I asked.

  “Keep rubbing your perfect little ass against me.”

  I gasped and rolled to face him. “I am doing no such thing.”

  “My bad.” Brock chuckled kissing my neck. “Wishful thinking.”

  I ran a finger down his chest. “Are you going to buy condoms today?”

  He grasped my hand before it went any lower. “I thought about it and I think it would be better that I don’t.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because, as you so eloquently pointed out, we haven’t been on a normal date yet, and I want to give you that. And I want to put a ring on your finger before I make you mine completely.”

  “Are you for real?” I bit out.

  “Yeah, baby. I’m for real.”

  I groaned, dragging my hands down my face before sitting up on my forearms. “Just to clarify. By ring on my finger, do you mean engagement, or are you going to make me wait until the wedding night?”

  He chuckled. “I’ll surprise you.”

  “Brock,” I growled.

  He laid a hand on my arm and sat up. “Shhh.”

  “What?”

  Brock slid from the bed and pulled on the shorts he’d discarded the night before, grabbing his gun from the side table. “Get in the bathroom and don’t come out until I call you.”

  I nodded, my heart racing as I jumped out of bed and padded to the bathroom.

  Great, I’m stark naked and my man’s going after someone with a gun.

  The tile was cold and I had to pee, but was afraid I’d draw notice if I made any noise. I wrapped my arms around my waist and shifted from foot to foot trying to hear what was going on. The door opened, and I squeaked, laying my hand against my chest. “Brock,” I snapped.

  “Sorry. All clear. Dallas is here, so get dressed.”

  I nodded. “I think I’ll shower first, thank you very much.”

  He grinned as his gaze raked over my body. “Wish I could join you.”

  “Me too.”

  He kissed me quickly, and then pulled the door closed behind him while I started the water.

  After my shower, I pulled on yoga pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt before joining Brock and Dallas out in the great room. He’d also dressed and was in jeans that fit his body perfectly and a tight black T-shirt. When all talk ceased as I walked in, not to mention Jaxon was also there, I knew something big was up. “What happened?”

  “Have a seat,” Brock said.

  “Okay, the last time you said that, my best friend was dead,” I pointed out.

  “Nobody’s dead, Bailey,” Jaxon promised.

  I glanced at Brock and he gave me a nod of affirmation, so I sat in the overstuffed chair by the window.

  “Jay and Cammie are home and safe,” Brock began. “But we have discovered that the other kids you told us about are still missing.”

  I gasped. “But you found them?”

  Brock took a seat on the coffee table facing me. “No. But we know about them. All of the kids are from families attached to the Miller Campaign. At least the families who had pledged to contribute to the Miller campaign.”

  “Burton Miller. He’s a friend of my parents.”

  “Yes, and running for governor of Vermont,” Brock said.

  “I know all this,” I said, growing a little frustrated. “What does this have to do with kids in Connecticut?”

  Brock nodded to Dallas and Jaxon who opened the slider and stepped outside, giving us privacy.

  “Brock, you’re scaring me, what’s going on?”

  He took my hands. “Your mom has been having an affair with Burton Miller for the last six years and she is connected to those kids somehow. We’re still trying to wade through it, but she’s in deep, and it’s not good.”

  “She’s been having an affair?”

  Brock nodded.

  “Does Daddy know?”

  “I don’t know, baby. But he will when all of this comes out.”

  I nodded, pulled my hands from his, and rose to my feet. “Thank you for telling me.” I walked as slowly as I could back to my bedroom and closed the door, falling onto the bed and wrapping myself around a pillow.

  A few minutes later, I heard my door open, felt the dip of the bed and the warmth of Brock’s body as he wrapped himself around me. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” I rasped.

  I suddenly felt cold. Freezing. Like I’d never get warm and my body started to shake. Brock grabbed a blanket without breaking contact with me and wrapped it around both of us, kissing my hair. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.”

  “I think my dad knew.”

  Brock stroked my hair away from my face. “You do?”

  I nodded. “Six years ago, was when he started going to the club. Like every night.”

  “You remember that?”

  “Like it was yesterday. I’d gone to the junior prom with one of his cronies’ sons and had to call a
cab to come and get me because he didn’t answer his phone when I called, and Mom said she was too drunk to get me.”

  Brock’s body stiffened. “Why did you have to call a cab?”

  “The guy lit up in the bathroom and got arrested. He’d driven, so I was stuck. But Daddy made his little “mistake” go away.” I linked my hand with the one wrapped around my waist. “I noticed my parents start to drift then. Dad was gone most nights; Mom was always home by dinner, but usually gone when I got home from school. When I got my license, I was home less and less at dinnertime.”

  “I’m sorry, Bailey.” He kissed my shoulder.

  The phone on my nightstand buzzed. It was the one I used to talk to my parents. Brock reached for it and handed it to me. “Short call. No trace.”

  I nodded. “Hello?”

  “Hi, honey,” my mother said. “Are you still in Aspen?”

  “No, we’re home.”

  “Daddy wants to meet your new man.”

  I grimaced toward Brock. “Um…”

  “Kevin, right?”

  “Yeah. Um, we kind of broke up.”

  Brock rolled his eyes and I gave a look like, “What else am I supposed to say?”

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” she slurred.

  “Mom, have you been drinking?”

  “A little, I guess. Who’s this other man?”

  “What?” I squeaked.

  “Don’t think we don’t know about you being in the hospital, young lady.”

  Shit! I mouthed. “It was nothing.”

  “Well, we’d like to see for ourselves. We know two men took you home with them, I believe they’re brothers, and we’d like to meet them. At the very least, the one you’re seeing.” Mom gasped. “Unless you’re seeing them both! God, Bailey, please tell me you’ve not become a slut.”

  “No mom, I’m not a slut.”

  Brock scowled.

  “I’m only seeing one of them,” I continued.

  “We want to meet him. Soon.”

  “Um, okay. I’ll find out what his schedule is.”

  “Do that,” my mother said. “We can always come to you.”

  “No, that’s okay. I’d like him to see home.”

  “Okay, dear. We’ll talk to you soon.”

  “’Bye, Mom.” I hung up.

  “They have probably traced that,” Brock murmured.