Going In Blind_Brotherhood Protectors World Page 11

  He smiled against her head. “What good is having your own personal MARSOC bodyguard if I can’t hold true to my promise and keep you safe?”

  “I didn’t realize I’d hired you as my personal bodyguard.”

  “Didn’t have to. It’s part of the package deal that came with driving you home.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a viable business plan. But I’ll accept.” Her hands swept down his torso as she eased back, and he had to fight not to jerk away when her fingers followed the ridge of one of the scars. “Damn. Your clothes are soaked. I hope they’re not ruined.”

  “Doesn’t matter if they are. Never liked them.”

  Addy snagged her bottom lip, looked away, then sighed. “Well, since you’re in here, and wet…” She reached for him, fingering the top button on his shirt.

  Rigs reacted before he’d even thought it through—grabbing her wrists. Holding them firmly. “If I get naked, you’re going to spend the rest of the shower with a part of my anatomy jabbing you in the hip. My pants are the only barrier keeping it tamed.”

  She smiled, and fuck if his dick didn’t jerk against the fly, again. Threaten to do the job for her. But…if he got naked, she’d feel the scars. And not just through his shirt. It would be skin on skin. Completely bare. And what if she had one of her flashes while they were standing there? All of his demons exposed? There was no doubt he wanted her. Had already made peace with the fact she was his. Whether just in his mind, as friends or something more. Whether for only tonight or the next fifty years.

  But taking the next step. Allowing her to see the real him—and she didn’t need her eyes for that. He had no doubts she’d accomplish it with nothing more than a brush of her fingers and a tilt of her head—it scared him to the bone. The thought of her rejection. Of finally seeing the disgust he’d been anticipating since their first meeting shape her features. Rigs knew the only reason he’d had this time with her was because she couldn’t see the ugly parts of him.

  She tugged on her hands, and he forced himself to let go. Let her pop the first button free then move on to the next. Continuing down until the sides hung open. She only paused long enough to lift her hands back to his shoulders—shove the cotton over them. The shirt smacked against the tub, the wet sound straining every muscle.

  “God, you’re tense.” She palmed his shoulders. Gave them a squeeze before her smile faded. Her head did that funny tilt thing as she stared up at his face. “If I read this wrong. If you’d rather just get out—”

  “No.” Fuck. He was screwing it up. Giving her the impression he wasn’t interested, when all he wanted to do was shove his fingers into her hair and taste her mouth. Push her against the wall and thrust inside. Lose himself in her warmth. In her velvety skin. In the sweet scent of her arousal mixing with the humid air of the shower.

  She raised her arms, and he knew she was going to touch his face. Cup each side with her thumbs stroking the corners of his mouth. Her right palm over the lines—the ones that stood out above his skin. The ones he couldn’t hide.

  He grabbed that wrist, again. Holding it just shy of touching his skin. “Addison, I…”

  How did he explain without letting her in?

  She drew her hands back, tugging on the one he held until he let go—let his damn arm fall to his side. “It’s fine. You should probably get out before you completely ruin those pants. I should be okay, now. Thank you.”

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  “I’ll be just outside. Call me when you’re finished.”

  She turned as he pushed the curtain aside, distancing herself as much as she could while essentially being trapped. It occurred to him, then, how brave she’d been. Unlike him, she couldn’t simply retreat if the situation didn’t go her way. She was bound to the small space. As much a prisoner of it as he was of his damn scars.

  He didn’t waste any time changing into the sweats Ice had left for him, gathering their wet clothes then heading for the door. She was washing her hair or something. He heard the heavy splashes of water. Smelled the rich coconut scent of the suds. If he wasn’t such a colossal idiot, he could in there, right now. Her skin beneath his hands, her mouth pressed to his. She was offering him that. Everything he wanted.

  And still, he’d managed to fuck it up.

  Ice was in the hallway when Rigs popped out with the wet items bundled in his arms. The other man walked over, gesturing for Rigs to give him the clothes. “I’ll hang these up to dry. You focus on Addison.”

  Rigs glanced into the small sliver of space still visible between the door and the frame. “She’s…washing her hair.”

  Ice narrowed his eyes. “Are you okay?”

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You seem…off. And trust me, that’s saying a lot with respect to you. You’re always off, but this is…different.” He glanced at the slightly open door then groaned. “Shit. What did you do?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Please. I’d thought the sexual tension was strong at the auction, but the aura around you two standing in the living room was off the charts. Then, you slip into the bathroom. It’s all easy banter echoing through the door, then the water’s on. Sounds like you’re both okay, then bam. You’re out here, obviously wet from the shower, yet, she’s still in there. And you’ve got that depressing funk around you, again. You’d lost that, by the way. When I last saw you at the foundation, it was gone. All thanks to Addison Bailey. But that funk is back. So, I’ll ask you, again. What did you do to screw things up?”

  “I didn’t do anything, jackass. She slipped getting into the shower, so I lunged in after her. Got my clothes wet. That’s all.”

  “If that was all, then you’d still be in there, holding her hand or her elbow. Fuck, washing her hair for her because the Rigs I know wouldn’t leave her for a second. Not after she’d already tripped. Which means, you’re running scared.”

  Shit. He hated that Ice saw through him. “Maybe I’m just not that guy.”

  “That guy?”

  “The one you all seem to think is still alive inside me just waiting to burst free. The old Kent.” Rigs shoved a hand through his hair, stilling the urge to punch it through the wall. Inflict the kind of pain that might make him forget about the woman in the shower. The one that was slowly stealing his sanity. The one he’d just alienated.

  He raised his gaze to Ice’s. “That guy’s dead. Died in that rubble two years ago.”

  Ice stared at him, unblinking. No emotions on his face until even Rigs wanted to break eye contact. Then, his buddy nodded and turned, covering half of the hallway before glancing back at him. “You’re right. The old Kent is gone. But, so what? I’m not the same guy, either. Harlequin’s made me a far better man than I ever was in the service. And not because she changed me. More because I stopped pretending I was happy being alone. That there wasn’t a hole inside me I couldn’t fill. The Air Force couldn’t fill. But she did. Without even trying. And all I had to do was let her.”

  He turned, again, started walking.

  “She tried to touch my face.”

  Russel stopped, dropped the bundle on the floor then spun, slowly making his way back. “Talk to me.”

  Rigs sucked in a quick breath. God, why was it so fucking hot in the loft? Made it hard to breathe. To think. To calm the sudden pounding of his heart.

  Russel grabbed his head then shoved it down. “Easy, buddy. Breathe. Brace your hands on your knees so you don’t pass out on me.”

  He palmed his legs, closing his eyes against the rush of vertigo. “I never pass out.”

  “Right. And my hands don’t shake when I picture Harlequin in danger. Remind myself there could still be a bounty on her head.”

  “No way anyone’s getting past you.”

  “Doesn’t mean the thought doesn’t chill me to the bone, brother. Haunt my dreams because there isn’t life without her. Period. So, explain what happened. Addison nearly falls, you lunge in and…”

  “And
I’m holding her. She suggests that since I’m already in the shower and wet…”

  Russel chuckled. “Girl’s got some moves. I knew I was going to like her straight off. So…”

  “She manages to get my shirt off—without touching the scars—but she can sense I’m tense. Thinks I’m not interested. I try to correct her, but then she reached for me and… Fuck, I couldn’t stop myself. Had her wrist in my hand, just hovering above that side of my face. I tried to let go. Explain but…” He blew out a rough breath. “She distanced herself after that. Told me she could finish on her own.”

  “Does she know?”

  “Know what? That I have horrible disfiguring marks crisscrossing my face and chest? Hasn’t come up in conversation, yet.”

  “Rigs—”

  “Don’t. Don’t lie to me like Midnight does. Like everyone does and tell me they aren’t that bad. That people don’t see them because I just spent an entire night listening to people not react to my face.”

  “Okay. Let’s be honest, then. You’re right. You have scars, and yeah, they’re noticeable. But we’re not lying when we say we don’t see them because we don’t. Never have. I see the man who saved the unit I was scouting with when we damn near walked into an ambush. The guy who took three bullets for the woman I love. Who would have gotten on her damn bike and bled out trying to follow her. That’s the guy I see. And I’m pretty damn sure that’s what Addison would see if you gave her the chance. The man who saved her life. Who didn’t treat her like she was less of a teammate. Who’s kept her safe all night. It’s all perspective. But only you can give her that chance.”

  “I want to. God, the whole time I was standing there, all I wanted was to kiss her. Feel those small hands on me. But… What if I don’t know how?”

  “Letting go’s tough. Living a lonely, bitter life is tougher. Choose your hard, bro. Then embrace it. You were always good at that.”

  “I knew I wasn’t going to like your answer.”

  “Never said you would.”

  Chapter 10

  Addison stood beneath the spray, listening to Kent’s footsteps pad across the room—something he’d done on purpose, she suspected. Letting her hear him. She waited until they were gone, then braced one hand against the side of the shower. Dread threatened to empty her stomach right there on the shower floor. The one she wished would open up and swallow her, because there was no way she could face Kent or his friends, again. Not after throwing herself at him, only to end up on the awkward side of rejection.

  God, how had she read the situation so wrong? Sure, she couldn’t see his reactions. Hadn’t been able to judge his desire by his eyes. But she’d felt it. More than once. He’d been hard. And she was sure she’d heard his breathing speed up. Felt his heart kick against her palms when she’d touched his chest. Every other sense suggested that he wanted to touch her as much as she wanted to be touched. He’d basically said as much.

  Except that he’d grabbed her hands—prevented her from palming his face with every intention of tiptoeing up and finally tasting his mouth. The glimpse she’d gotten of full lips and stubbled jaw had only heightened her desire to kiss him.

  A shiver ran down her spine, and she turned off the water. No sense wasting it when it wouldn’t do any good. Wouldn’t truly warm her up or ease the stress bunching her muscles. That was the worst part. She couldn’t even leave. Without her cane or Blade, there was no way to discretely go. Maybe if she was familiar with the layout of the loft, she could chance groping her way to the door, but as it was, she was completely dependent on him.

  Pain flared in her chest. This was why she kept to herself. Only put her trust in Blade. The reality was—people viewed her as a burden. A lifelong contract that required ‘round-the-clock care. And no man in his right mind would willingly sign up for that. Kent had been better than most, but he wasn’t stupid.

  She had to end this. Get him to call her a cab and go…somewhere. Carl would let her stay the night—cover the taxi ride for her. She’d have to wake him up, but that was better than staying here. With Kent.

  Another shiver, and she slowly shifted sideways, sweeping her hand out in front of her as she went. It only took a few steps to find the counter—the pile of clothes Russel had given Kent. What felt like yoga pants, a long-sleeved shirt, and a sport’s bra and panties. Despite being summer, the air was cool, and she couldn’t quite stop the shivers from trembling through her.

  A knock, then a slight creak of the door.

  “Addison?”

  She smoothed her hands down the front of her clothes, hoping she hadn’t put anything on backwards or inside out. Her hands shook a bit, and she made a conscious effort of gathering the emotions still churning inside her and shoving them down. It should have been easy. She’d been doing it all her life. Growing up in a family of police legacies, it had been bred into her. Not to mention all the upheaval she’d been through over the past few years. Then, she felt the air move, his body shuffle in beside her, and just like that, everything welled up, again.

  The realization hit her hard, as it always did. She was blind. Until these flashes became permanent. Until they lasted more than a fraction of a second, she was still lost in the darkness, relying on others to help her simply exist. To get from one place to another. Everything she’d done without thinking—going from room to room. Driving to the store. Having a fucking life—required preparation and conscious effort. Having Blade had helped. Had lessened the overwhelming sense of loss she’d felt every moment of every day since the raid.

  Except for the past several hours with Kent. He hadn’t made her feel as if she was less. He’d been nothing but supportive. Had made her feel a bit like her old self. Independent. Strong. Maybe that’s why his rejection hurt so much. She’d been starting to visualize a future with more than just empty days strung together. One with him in it, only to realize it was like the flashes she was having—lies her brain was telling her.

  Addison cleared her throat. She needed to hold it together long enough to get out of there. “Is there anything I might trip over on the floor?”

  “All clear.” God, even his voice sounded awkward.

  “And the hallway back to the living room? How far?”

  “Addison, I can—”

  “How far?”

  Was it possible to feel someone else’s displeasure? Their frustration? Because she was certain it changed the air around her. Weighed it down.

  “Ten feet to the door. Another ten to the corner. Turn left and the living room is on your right. The kitchen off to your left.”

  She nodded then struck off, hands braced to either side. It sounded so simple. All she had to do was walk and count her steps. Easy. Except where she never knew if she was going in a straight line. All it took was a slight angle, and she’d walk into the door. Or the wall. Maybe clip her hip on the corner. And she’d fall, like she’d done a thousand times since waking up into the darkness.

  Another shift of air, and a creak. He’d opened the door more for her before she smacked into it and looked like a fool.

  She stopped, feeling completely disoriented. Somehow, she’d lost count when he’d rushed past her. And now, all she could do was stand there—try not to panic. She hadn’t felt this way since before she’d gotten Blade. God, how had she not realized how much she’d come to depend on him? And he’d nearly died because of her.

  “I’m sorry, I forgot your cane. You’re two feet away from the door, now, if that helps.”

  She nodded but couldn’t move. Couldn’t seem to get her feet to start walking. Despite his directions, she couldn’t picture it. Couldn’t do anything other than stand there and breathe.

  He was beside her, again. “Addison. About the shower…”

  She shook her head. She couldn’t go there. Couldn’t hear him apologize for not wanting her when she still had to face his friends. Find a way to convince them to call her a cab. “It’s fine. Fine.”

  “It’s not what you think. I�
�”

  “Addison?” A woman’s voice. “We haven’t met, yet. I’m Harlequin.”

  Addy drew a deep breath, tried to focus on where she thought Harlequin was standing. “You’re married to Russel.”

  Harlequin laughed, and there was a shift in the air that settled next to her. “Yeah.”

  Addison arched a brow. “Doesn’t he ever leave your side?”

  “Not often.”

  “Whoa.” Russel’s deep voice next to Harlequin. “How the hell did you know I was here? I didn’t make a sound, this time. I’m sure of it.”

  “I didn’t hear you. The air…changes the more people there are. It gets heavier, for lack of a better description.” She sighed. “I know. It sounds crazy. Seems to be the norm for me, lately.”

  A hand cupped hers. It was Russel’s. Too large to be Kent’s, not to mention the way he held her fingers in his—it felt wrong. “No one thinks you’re crazy. Actually, that’s very impressive.”

  “There’s got to be the odd perk for being like…” She waved her other hand in front of her eyes. “…this.”

  A sigh. Heavy. But she couldn’t tell if it came from Russel or Kent. Maybe both of them.

  Russel placed the end of a rod in her hand. “This isn’t a cane, but Harlequin thought it might help. We shortened one of our tent poles. It’ll even fold if you want it to. Thought it might make you feel less dependent on everyone here.”

  They’d made her a cane?

  She squeezed her fingers around the smooth surface, swallowing against the thick feeling in her throat. She didn’t even know Russel or Harlequin. Had shown up in the middle of the night. Maybe even inadvertently involved them in something dangerous. Yet, they were treating her like family. And all because of Kent. An extension of brotherhood.

  Addy gripped the makeshift cane. “That was extremely considerate. Thank you. How far to the corner, again?”

  “Twelve feet. Turn left. Once you’re in the living room, it’s seven feet to a chair that’s off to your right on a forty-five. Or you can go left and sit at the kitchen counter, if you’d prefer. Same distance and angle.”