Page 61 of Nightfire

This was a woman who’d had violence done to her three times. More than any woman should have to bear. And each goddamned time she’d been left completely alone. Including right now.

Right now he was sending her to his room without even a hug. And why? Because he was a coward.

Because he was such a fucking coward, Mike was sending her away. The whole hurting her thing was true but was also bullshit of the highest order.

He didn’t flail around while fucking. He didn’t bite or twist limbs. He could control himself enough not to physically hurt her. That was all a line of crap.

The truth was he was scared shitless. There was nothing here he even remotely recognized as familiar, except his hard-on. And even that felt somehow different. It wasn’t a normal hard-on, the kind he had when an available woman was around. No, it was a Chloe woodie, through and through. Impossible to deal with, impossible to get rid of.

He buzzed with crazy energy.

He felt raw and unsure, like he was about to fall into some huge black hole, never to find his way back again. He was terrified this was going to change him in some unknown way and instinctively, he was taking the coward’s way out by rejecting her. Never mind that Chloe was being hurt in the process, just as long as ol’ Mike’s butt was covered.

Those fuckers had hurt her physically but Mike, man he was a real champ because he wasn’t hurting her body, which would heal, he was hurting her heart, which wouldn’t. At the very moment she needed him, he was turning his back on her.

And even realizing this, even knowing Chloe was heading back to his bedroom to deal with her fear and trauma on her own, as she always had, he hesitated, frozen like a statue. Unable to move forward, unable to move at all.

Because this was a huge moment for him and his life was going to divide into two, right here, right now.

She was disappearing into his room and in a second, it would be too late. He’d stay forever on this side of the divide, alone and hurting.

“Chloe,” he said quietly. “Stop.”

She stopped, back to him, head low.

And then Mike said three words he had never said to any human being before. Three words he never thought he could say, three words he’d worked his whole life not to have to say.

“Chloe.” His voice was hoarse, the words painful to get out. “I need you.”

She turned around and he winced at the sight of her face. Ice white, hurting, without hope.

If she wanted to rant at him, scream at him, she’d have every right. Mike wouldn’t have treated any woman who’d suffered violence this callously. So why was he doing this to Chloe?

Looking deep into his heart, something he was extremely uncomfortable doing and did as little as possible, he understood why. It was because he cared too much for Chloe, but how could she know that?

He sure as shit had never told her what he felt. Not in all these six months in which he’d been her shadow. He’d fixed things in her house, driven her around, carried in her groceries, kept her company when she baby-sat, made sure she did her weight reps right. All those good guy things that cost him nothing but that meant he could be near her. Because getting up in the morning, knowing he was going to drive Chloe to RBK or to the shelter or spotting her in the condo gym three morning a week, well, that made his day.

Not one word about what she meant to him. Ever. Not one fucking word.

No wonder she wasn’t expecting anything from him, not even now, when she needed him.

She was looking at him, eyes wide, mouth open. “What did you say?” Shocked.

He was shocked himself. The hand he held out to her trembled. A sniper’s hand that trembled. His hand never trembled, but it did now.

He stepped over that chasm sharply dividing before and after and took her uninjured hand, brought it to his mouth. Her skin was smooth and icy cold. The cold of shock. Well, of course.

She’d been attacked, brutally and violently. Her worst nightmare, come to life. Again.

Mike hated to see her like this, the old Chloe, the Chloe who’d showed up at RBK on a wild quest, frightened and uncertain. She was even moving like the old Chloe, slow, hesitant, shaky.

That old Chloe had all but disappeared these past six months, wrapped into the folds of a loving extended family, deeply loved by two little girls and with Mike—well, with Mike around a lot. If nothing else, building up her muscles.

She walked well and fast now, laughed often, was a quiet charmer. Had been pretty before and was now extraordinarily beautiful.

How it hurt him to see her back to the damaged woman who’d arrived in San Diego, hoping but not expecting to find a family.

“How do you need me? What do you mean?” she asked finally. She was so shocked it took her a couple of beats to answer him. “I don’t understand.”