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“You can’t let Dad find out,” I whisper hoarsely when I have a lucid moment. “He’ll never get over it... Chris, they can’t call him.”
“Just breathe, princess,” he tells me, pinning me to his massive chest. “You need a break, you say it. Any man who won’t give you one gets a fist in his face—no, I don’t give a fuck whether he’s wearing a badge. I’ll make sure this stays with me.”
Somehow, after spending half the night at the police station, we get an Uber and head back to our hotel. Chris says he’ll pick up the rental vehicle tomorrow, but for now, he’ll stay with me while I sleep.
I’m surprised I’m able to crash as hard as I do.
I’m even more shocked I don’t wake up when shades of red are all I see.
That grungy, mackerel-eyed man who wouldn’t stop groping me, whispering heinous things in my ear.
The older man—his boss, I guess—snarling about some kind of plot to—what?
Kidnap me? Ransom me?
I have to believe this is due to Dad’s money. Somehow, they knew who I was.
Anyone who grows up with a fabulously rich parent isn’t clueless about this sort of thing happening.
But you never expect tolive ituntil it’s on you like a hungry tiger tearing at your throat.
“Delia, come back to me. Wake up.”
I open my eyes, shaking.
Chris cradles me, this gentle bear of a man, blowing warmth against the back of my neck that gives me goosebumps.
I swear he hasn’t left an inch of space between us on the sprawling bed all night.
If I hadn’t just been abused, assaulted, and nearly primed or worse, that would be delicious.
Now, it’s just sad.
And I can’t even hide how bad I’m hurting when I start sobbing immediately, and he just shushes me so gently, running a stiff finger over my lips.
“You lay there as long as you want. All damn day if you need to. Let it all out,” he rumbles, pushing his nose into my hair and breathing deeply.
“My fault,” I whisper back. “I-it’s all m-my fault!”
“Yours? Bullshit,” he says sharply.
But I’m a hot mess for the next minute, collapsing against his bulk, panicked sobs racking me from soul to surface.
“Chris...”
“No, Delia. Fuck no. This happened because of me. Don’t you ever think otherwise.” He waits until he has my eyes before he sighs softly and says, “I talked to my team this morning. Those men were sent by a group of scum who were partnered up with Jordan Warzach. We ruined their party and crashed their business—trafficking those girls—and now they’re out for blood.”
I blink at him, slowly letting his words soak in.
“...how long did you know?” I ask.
His face falls, his stubble a thicker, darker shadow than usual, so much pain glinting in his eyes.
“Since before this goddamn trip. I should have told you. I should have told your father,” he tells me through clenched teeth.
My heart jumps into my throat.
He knew? He knew there were people after us?
