Chapter Thirteen

Allen

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I mutter to myself as I make a trip around the perimeter of Brielle’s home. “What was I thinking?”

The short answer? I wasn’t. At least, not with the head I should be thinking with right now.

I sigh and run my hands through my hair in frustration as I remember the look on Brielle’s face when I moved away from her - flush with a wild passion that turned to first confusion and then embarrassment before my very eyes.

And I am responsible for all of it. I want to kick myself.

Having satisfied myself that she is safe for now, I reluctantly head back inside. She’s not in the living room or kitchen, and my instincts tell me that she is not willing to engage with me any further tonight.

Still, I need to confirm her location, so after checking her bedroom I head to the last place I can look. Her office door is shut but I can hear just enough noise that I know she’s at her computer.

“I’m turning in,” I call out to her through the closed door, and long moments pass before a terse “goodnight” makes its way back to me.

I wait another minute and it becomes clear that she is done speaking to me for the foreseeable future, so I retreat to the guest room and grab a few things from my ready bag to prepare for bed.

Not that sleep’s coming anytime soon.

I have showered and am putting on pajama bottoms when I hear her footsteps coming down the hall toward my door, then her bedroom door closing. Next comes the sound of the alarm chirping as she activates it.

Glad one of us is staying focused, anyway.

I stretch my six-foot frame out on the bed and sigh, replaying the night’s events in my head. My reverie is interrupted by my cell phone ringing.

“Hey, Pete,” I say after I glance at the screen to see who is calling.

“Hey, boss,” he says immediately. “Thought you should know that I got some prelim data on the voicemails. I think whoever is calling her is using a voice modulator. I’m still running some drill-down, and it’s going to take a couple days to get it all analyzed.”

“This just got more interesting,” I muse aloud. “Increases the likelihood that it’s someone she knows.”

“Yep, that’s my assessment, as well.”

“Good work, Pete. Stay on it. I’ll touch base in the morning once I’ve had a look at that treehouse.”

“Roger that.”

In the ensuing silence, my mind immediately reverts its focus to the woman across the hall from me, and I stare at the lazily spinning ceiling fan as I try to make sense of what I am feeling.

I have already cleared one self-imposed hurdle regarding Brielle Cerver – I want her. Badly. And I fully intend to do something about it.

Now, it is just a question of timing, but unfortunately, until the threat to her is dealt with, it will have to wait.

I am not sure exactly when my brain slows its pace enough to allow me to fall asleep.

What I am sure of is that the bloodcurdling scream I hear at three-ten a.m. has me up and moving across the room and across the hall in an instant.

Brielle

I have an inkling that it is going to be a restless night, even without what just happened between us in the kitchen. Reliving hell like I did earlier tonight always seems to make restful sleep impossible for me.

I wade through the seven emails I already had and am starting on the five new ones that just showed up when Allen’s voice comes to me.

“I’m turning in,” is all he says, and with the embarrassment I’m still feeling it takes everything I have to keep it civil and only respond with “goodnight.”

I can sense him lingering for a moment before I hear him walk away from the door, and I breathe a sigh of relief, then return to my work.

After fifteen minutes, I shut my computer down and head for bed. I find myself pausing outside the guest room door before I turn and walk into my room instead.

I set the alarm from the keypad Pete so thoughtfully installed in my inner sanctum, then listen with satisfaction as it chirps through the sixty-second warning to fully armed.

Once I brush out my hair, I change my yoga pants, sweatshirt, and sports bra for a pair of old cotton shorts and a tank top, then crawl into bed and curl up on my left side facing the huge, empty expanse of mattress next to me. Only then do I unleash my mind and let it fill with the one topic that it has wanted to address for the last half-hour – the amazingly sexy but contradictory man right across the hall from me.

I close my eyes and replay what happened in my kitchen, an event that at the time I really hoped would come to its passion-filled conclusion right here in my bed.

Like a light switch, I realize. From the moment we first spoke, he is on, then off again, with no warning at all when it’s going to change. One minute, Allen is distant, like he hates me, and the next he’s kissing me and running his hands all over me, and then, I’m just a client?

So now what?

I punch my pillow in frustration.

I do not need any more drama in my life. I have survived so much already. I cannot take another round.

“But I want him,” I whisper in the dark privacy of my room. “I want him.”

I lie there, confused and hurt, for a long while before I drift off to sleep.

***

I grunt as I haul another box of my belongings out to my car, then check my watch.

One-thirty, I notice. Tony won’t be home until four. I have plenty of time to finish loading up and get the hell out of here.

Still, I quicken my pace to pack up every available inch of space that I can in my four-door sedan. By the time I am done, only the driver’s seat remains empty, and I’m covered in sweat.

It is a little after three when I go back through the house one last time to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything, and when I come back out of the bedroom, I jump with fright.

He’s home early.

***

Screams tear from my throat as I jolt myself awake, drenched in sweat, and I begin to struggle against the strong arms holding me.

“No,” I sob, straining to fight back, break free. “No, Tony, no…”

“Brielle, come back, honey. You’re safe, I’ve got you,” is whispered in my ear over and over, and as I come to full consciousness I realize where I am.

When I finally muster the courage to open my eyes and look up, the lamp beside my bed illuminates the room enough that I see Allen’s face mere inches from mine, his eyes filled with concern.

“Allen,” I manage in a hoarse whisper, and cling to him as I begin to cry again.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you,” he murmurs as he strokes my hair.

He holds me and comforts me as I cry the last of the nightmare out of my psyche, until at last the tears end and my breathing becomes less ragged.

“Thank you,” I whisper, and receive a tender kiss to my right temple in response.

I feel him begin to pull away from me, and though part of me knows it is for the best, part of me is terrified to dream any more tonight.

“Stay with me,” I find myself pleading, and the look on his face lets me know he is as surprised as I am by what I just said.

“Please,” I whisper. “Just to sleep.”

“Okay,” Allen answers as he cups my face tenderly in his right hand.

He reaches out with his left hand to turn the light off, and I scoot over so he can climb into bed. I turn onto my left side and feel him moving closer until my back is snuggled, warm and safe, against his chest. He drapes his right arm over my waist, and I sigh as I relax into him.

With as long as it has been since someone slept beside me, I fully expect it to take a while before I am able to go back to sleep.

I am pondering the timeline when I drift off again, and this time, sleep is deep and restful.

Allen

Holding Brielle as she sleeps should not feel so good. So natural. So completely and utterly right.

But it does, and it takes my breath away to realize what that could mean.

I have not been this close to a woman in years – by design. But now, I feel this stirring deep in my chest, something I thought had left me forever when Mary did.

Protectiveness. Longing.

But it is much more than that. I feel… complete for the first time in a long, long time.

I tilt my head down to Brielle’s hair and take in her soothing vanilla scent as I listen to her breathing become deep and even, and sleep overtakes me.