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I want to be the man that will block the door when the scary dreams come calling. The one that will take on her demons and
slay them one at a time until all that is left is her smile...and her orgasms.
Always the orgasms.
So when I walked to my car, my future with Brinna dancing all through my head, I was ready to take on the fucking world. I made one last stop to pick up a little package I had waiting for me, planning to head straight back to the house once I had it. For the first time in four years of secret meetings, I was running early, eager to get all the rest of the arrangements in place before Brinna got home at six.
But those clouds I was walking on?
Yeah, well. They’ve turned to gravel under my feet. I’m at a dead run to my truck, ignoring the pulses of sheer pain shooting through my knees. My own pain doesn’t matter, not when I know there’s something wrong with my girl.
I took out my phone at the store and tracked her location. I do that when she’s away from me, I just can’t help myself. I can go maybe a half hour, then I give in. From the moment I saw her, I knew, if circumstances had been different, I would have been her fucking stalker. Thank Christ she became my ward instead. Saved me a lot of trouble. And probably an arrest record.
When the location of her phone came up and showed me she was back at the house so early, my heart sank. I texted and then called. It went right to voice mail. Something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones. So, I wrapped up my transaction at the jewelry store and hit the parking lot at a run.
I didn’t care if it was just a spat between friends. Anything that affects her life is my responsibility. More now than ever. I also told her if she went anywhere besides the park or Michaela’s apartment if her plans changed at all she was to let me know.
Best case, I have her ass over my knee teaching her a lesson. Worst case—
I don’t want to think about worst case.
The scenery flies by as I weave through traffic heading back to the house. Her phone is pinging from the estate, but the texts are now showing as not delivered, and my calls aren’t even going to voicemail, they aren’t even ringing through. Panic rises in my throat like a balled fist. Seems whenever there is a high in my life, it is followed by a fucking low and something is definitely wrong.
If she’s hurt, I’ll tear down the world to avenge whoever made the mistake of harming her. She’s my everything, and without her, well...after last night, I don’t see life continuing.
I barely even notice the time pass. It seems like one second I’m tearing through traffic and the next I’m urging my legs faster as I tunnel down the hall, heading straight for her room, yelling her name. My fears expand as I see her bedroom door closed. She hasn’t closed her door in years. Even if she’s changing her clothes or whatever, it’s always open a crack as she knows I always knock before coming in.
What could have gone wrong in just a few hours?
“Brinna!” Her name lodges in my throat as I grasp the cool brass handle and turn.
A fist hits my gut as the knob refuses my effort. To my knowledge, there was never a time she locked this door.
“Brinna!” I thunder through the solid wood. “If you’re in there open—”
There’s a noise from behind the barrier, and I pause, waiting for her to come and open the door. To tell me everything is fine and she didn’t mean to lock the door. Just a mistake...
Only, as my heartbeat pulses painfully in my head, no further noise comes.
There is no more wait in me.
I cock back my leg and deliver a single heel strike, just below the knob, splintering the wood and flinging the door back on its hinge so hard it dislodges from the top plate.
Inside, drawers are open in her bureau. Closet and floor are strewn with clothes, and if my fear wasn’t already running in the red, when I see the scraps of torn up lottery tickets tossed over the floor, flames lick at my heart. An open suitcase lays splayed on the bed, with only a few items stuffed inside. Bile rises at the back of my throat when I put the pieces together: she left when she heard me.
Why? Why would my baby run from me? I’m her champion. The warrior that will give her the world as she wants it to be. How am I the enemy? Did what happened last night change for her today? Did I take her too far too fast?
My mind screams with the thoughts of the mistakes I could have made. The harsh need I showed her could have been more than she could handle.
Self-hatred rises up and slams a balled fist into my conscience. I broke the promise I made myself to never touch her. Now look. My own selfish need has driven her away from me and into the arms of a world that could hurt her.
With a full scan of the rest of the room, my eyes settle on the crack in the bathroom door, through which I can see the curtains falling through the open window.
I must have screamed her name twenty times as I ran back down the hallway. The window was too small for me to fit or I would have thrown myself through it and saved the precious few minutes it took me to blaze my trail out the back door.
The grass gives away the trail of her footfalls, and one of my strides covers at least five of hers.
What the fuck is happening here? An hour ago, my world was finally settling. I had taken my girl, sure in myself that I was the man—no, the Daddy—she deserved and needed. Now?
