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I sobbed, throwing myself at him. He draped his arms around me and let me cry into his suit, stroking my back and murmuring sweet promises in my ear.
“Friend of yours?” the cop asked.
“Boyfriend,” Benedict answered, his voice hard.
The body groaned and I froze. “Fucking hell,” the man said from where he lay curled up in the kitchen. My knees sagged as relief coursed through me. Only Benedict’s strength kept me from collapsing to the floor.
“Easy, princess,” he whispered, easing me onto my couch, his arm wrapped around me, holding me tightly against him.
“He was waiting in the apartment when I got back,” I whispered.
One of the cops crouched beside the injured man, inspecting his wound. “You knocked him out, but I don’t think he’ll suffer any permanent damage.”
Benedict watched the cops, ice in his eyes. “She’ll be pressing charges for assault.”
Ibrahim and James walked in, their eyes cold and hard, scanning my apartment, then warming when they alighted on me.
“More boyfriends?” the cop asked sardonically.
“Yes,” Ibrahim said, sitting on my other side, while James joined the cop crouching beside my assailant.
Their presence was too much for me. The tears I’d held back since I saw Benedict a week ago burst forth, startling everyone in my apartment.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped, between sobs. My tears eased the tension between my men and the police. One of the cops even smiled.
“It’s normal, ma’am. This was a scary situation.”
Reassured by the bracing presence of my men, I explained what happened in gulping breaths as the other cop searched and cuffed the man who invaded my home.
The police made appropriately sympathetic noises, although I neglected to share that the man was anything other than a random home invader.
Benedict knew, though. As the police walked him out the door, he stood to whisper something in the man’s ear. James immediately slid onto the couch to take his place, taking my hand and wrapping it in his, gently stroking my knuckles with his thumb.
The cop looked askance at Benedict but didn’t interrupt him. The man who’d invaded my home blanched and shook his head. Benedict continued to speak quietly until the man nodded. Once the cops and my assailant were gone, Benedict returned to me, his expression stricken.
“Piper, I’m so sorry.”
He sank to his knees before me, laying his hands on my knees. “This is my fault.”
My heart sped up at the sight of this dangerous and handsome man on his knees before me, even as I gasped at his audacity. Was he kidding me? Bad enough that it’d taken a home invasion to bring this man back into my life, but that he’d take responsibility for my decisions? No. I took a deep breath and prepared to share my story.
“A few weeks ago, I discovered one of the real estate contracts I worked on didn’t make sense. The numbers and dates didn’t line up, and they didn’t seem to provide any tax advantage to my employer. I dug a little bit deeper, and discovered my employer was using the property to launder money coming in from Russian oligarchs under sanctions.”
“Oligarchs like Igor Lebedev?” Benedict asked sharply.
I laughed, shaking my head. “No, Igor’s a dear. He’s helping me track down the loose ends so that I can turn a complete file over to the prosecutor’s office.”
My sharp tone hid my terror that these men would take care of the immediate danger and then walk right out of my life again. It’d been hard enough seeing Benedict the week before. Saying goodbye to all three once again? Impossible.
Ibrahim reached over and slapped the back of Benedict’s head. “I told you.”
“Told him what?” James asked.
“That she needed us.”
Benedict nodded. “You were right.” Still kneeling in front of me, he looked up at me, his golden eyes uncharacteristically soft. “We never should have let you walk out of our lives.”
I stuck my nose up in the air, pretending to be miffed to hide the joy bubbling in my heart. “Grovel.”
