Page 20 of Nightfire

He shook his head, turned to look her straight in the eyes. In the dim light of the garage his blue eyes glowed like twin rondels of sky. His face was drawn, tight, serious. “Chloe.” He picked up her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm, watching her face carefully, as if to make sure she understood what he was saying. “Right now, there isn’t any place I’d rather be than right here with you.”

Chloe blinked.

Oh. Wow.

SIX

Chloe was embarrassed that she couldn’t walk fast. Mike’s heart painfully turned over in his chest at that.

Chloe had survived something few people would have. She’d been brutalized as a little girl, had spent nearly a decade in a hospital, been operated on fourteen fucking times, was alive by a miracle and…she was embarrassed?

Harry had killed the motherfucker who’d whipped Chloe against a wall as if she’d been a rag doll, otherwise Mike would definitely go look the guy up himself. Have a word or two with him.

See how he liked pushing around an ex Force Recon Marine, ex SWAT. See whether the fuckhead might find it a little harder to smash a 220 pound man who was an expert in close quarter combat against the wall than a twenty pound little girl.

Yeah, Mike would look forward to that.

The underground garage of the Morrison Building was huge. Harry’s allotted parking slot was way the hell over the other side of the building.

Harry and Ellen were halfway there, Harry checking every minute or so if Chloe was following. She was.

Harry didn’t have to worry because Mike was on it, and just as soon as humanly possibly he was going to be on her.

Mike would have sworn that last night had put him off sex for a while. A long while.

But nope. Sex came roaring back. It was in his head, buzzing in his veins, pooling blood between his legs. He fought off an erection—if the past twenty years of industrial-level fucking had taught him anything, it was the ability to control his dick—but he could feel the heaviness between his thighs, a concentration of sensation and heat.

It was different from the usual, though. If he weren’t so goddamned distracted by Chloe, he could try to figure out what it was about her that was so different. Right now, though, he only had enough blood in his head to know to stick close.

Harry and Ellen were in Harry’s Tahoe by the time they made it to the vehicle. Harry started the engine. “Hop in, honey!” he called and Mike saw Chloe suppress a wince.

Mike loved Harry. There was an old saying—to love like a brother. Mike loved Harry more than like a brother but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to kick his ass right now.

While Chloe had been trying to explain how she didn’t remember him because she’d been so badly injured a good chunk of her life had gone, lost in years in hospitals, Harry had barely been listening. He’d been frozen, a big message buzzing in his head he hadn’t known how to process. And once Chloe dropped her bomb, Harry’s senses had been completely blitzed by joy.

Chloe’s problems had completely flown under Harry’s radar. Not Mike’s. He’d seen from the start that it was hard for her to move fast. Chloe hid it well, was probably used to hiding it all her life, but it was there and she was ashamed and Mike vowed right then and there that she would never be ashamed again.

Chloe looked dismayed when she registered the enormous step up into the Tahoe. Without a word, Mike easily lifted her onto the seat. When he got into the other side, she smiled at him. “Thanks,” she said softly, leaning over, the word only for him.

Oh man. Her smile. How could she turn even more golden when she smiled? Mike suspected she didn’t smile much. Well, life hadn’t given her that much to smile about. He knew all about that.

Ellen turned around in her seat. “Chloe, I can’t wait for you to meet Grace, though she might be a little fussy. We think she’s teething.”

“How old is she?”

“Three months.”

“Great kid,” Mike offered.

“Yes, she is,” Ellen smiled. “She looks just like Harry, and—" Ellen tilted her head, red hair shifting on her shoulder. “Now that I’m looking more closely, she looks a lot like you, too.”

“Oh!” Chloe held up her hand. “I don’t want to cry again.”

“Turn on the waterworks all you want,” Harry said, glancing in his rear view mirror.

Ellen pulled out a Kleenex, dabbed her eyes and handed the packet back over the seat to Chloe. “I’m really glad I didn’t put mascara on this morning, otherwise I’d look like Raccoon-Mom.”

Chloe laughed. “And I’d look like Raccoon-Aunt.” She shook her head. “I’m an aunt. I can’t believe it.”