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I grin at the way she emphasizes the word stuff like I just spoke blasphemy onto her belongings, relieved that she's rallying after our conversation. Watching her fight tears broke my fucking heart. It kills me to think about how much of her life she's probably spent worrying in silence about whether her parents regret adopting her because of who she is. And this is who she is.

She's endlessly curious and ferociously protective. She jumps in with both feet because her heart leads her. And it's leading her to fight for those who need a champion. There isn't a damn thing wrong with that. After what she and her sisters went through, who can blame her?

Frankly, the world needs more people like her, those with no quit in them no matter the odds. She doesn't need to be reined in or stopped. She simply needs to be taught how to protect herself while doing what she does best. Quite simply, she needs someone to watch her back while she's fighting the good fight.

I intend to be that man. I already made up my mind about that. Nothing I've learned about her has changed or swayed me in the least. I'm wild about this girl and growing more so by the minute.

I lean across the console. "Tell yourself whatever excuse you want to tell yourself, little kitten," I breathe, slipping my hand between her thighs to cup her pussy in my palm. "But we both know you're staying with me tonight because you can't stand the thought of not having me right here where I belong."

"Oh," she gasps, pushing her hips against my hand in tentative exploration.

I growl, slanting my mouth over hers in a hungry kiss. Christ, I don't know how I'm supposed to keep my mouth off of hers when she tastes so damn sweet and kisses me like I'm bringing her to life.

I grind my palm against her cunt, growling. And then pull back before I say fuck it and try to get her off right here and now. "Go pack, kitten. Before I get you arrested for public indecency."

She sends me a final look, all wide-eyed and too sexy for her own good, and then stumbles out of the car to go get her shit. Since I pulled up in front of the doors and I have her car keys, I'm confident she's not going to run off on me again, but I watch until she enters the hotel anyway. Just in case.

Once she disappears from sight, I dial Tate's number.

"Well, if it isn't Romeo," he says. "Have you found Juliet?"

"Her name is Charlie, not Juliet."

"Holy shit! You found her. I figured Dillon would shoot you for pissing him off."

Jesus. Why does he sound so shocked about it? Better yet, did the fucker want the sheriff to shoot me?

Actually, never mind. I don't even want to know.

"I need a favor."

"Uh, not until I get details. Who is she? Is she wanted by the police? Or is she just not into you? It's the last one, isn't it? Were you a dick about the truck?" my twin demands.

"Charlie Marsh. No. Yes, she is. No, it's not. No, I wasn't. You gossip too much. Are we done now? This is urgent," I growl, ticking off all his answers on my fingers. I swear to God, no one gossips more than men.

"Damn," Tate says, sobering. "I haven't heard you this serious since...." he trails off, not finishing the sentence. We both know what he means, though. I haven't been this serious since we talked before he went into the OR to operate on Scout when she was a baby. Operating on her once he fell in love with Samara went against every single rule in the book, but every other surgeon who looked at her case hesitated to take it. Tate refused to fail the woman he loved and the baby girl she swore to protect.

This situation isn't remotely the same, but damn, does it feels familiar. The woman I love needs me not to fail her or the girl she swore to protect. The woman I love. Christ, yeah. I'm in love with her. If that makes me crazy, so be it.

"What's up, brother? Talk to me," Tate says.

"I need Finn to look into Professor Janine Rothman," I say and quickly fill him in on the whole situation.

"Her own daughter?"

"Yeah," I snort in disgust, grateful for the millionth time for our parents. We struck the lottery when we were born into our family. Not everyone is so fortunate. "Think he can find what she needs?"

"Give him twenty-four hours, and he'll have everything there is to find," Tate says.

"Perfect."

"I assume you aren't staying here tonight?"

"I actually need your place in Houston for a couple of days."

"You taking her there?"

"Seems like the best way to keep anyone from figuring out she's not on campus where she's supposed to be." Tate's place in Houston is a stone's throw from the university. We won’t have to get up at the crack of dawn to make the drive. I have a feeling leaving a bed she's in is going to be a problem for me.

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