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A shudder ran through her. “Jaren—”
“You can’t fault me for guarding your heart. Look, I don’t want to use WEST’s contract against you, but I have the right to search—”
“No!” She leaped off the bed and practically ran to the bathroom. He lurched to his feet, watching her like he had that bull when he rescued her and the boy from the arena.
He had to calm her down, wipe that panic off her face.
He extended a hand. “Doll, listen to me. It’s going to be okay.”
She took another step toward the bathroom door, toward shutting him out and closing herself off.
“If you can’t look at the album, then let me. Or I’ll pass it to my team to analyze. But Trinny, wehave to see what’s inside.”
In one bound, she shot through the bathroom door and slammed it.
He took a big step forward but stopped. “Goddammit!” he bit off.
What was he going to do? Force her to hand over the book? His training told him not to exert more pressure on his ward, but dammit, they needed that intel. All they needed was one name, a date—hell, a location—and they might possibly learn who took out her mother and was trying to do the same to Trinny.
He reached for his jeans and located his phone. He had no choice now.
This situation called for backup.
ChapterThirteen
Trinny’s harsh breaths echoed off the bathroom walls. Pressing her forehead against the door, she fought to calm herself down.
She felt like the whole mountain had collapsed on her and she had no way of digging herself out from under its weight. Feeling down the door, she located the handle. The urge to fling it open and face Jaren had her quivering.
She’d shut out the only person who could help her now. And why? Because she let fear overcome her. The same fear that drove her to hit the road in the first place. The fear of those home invasions and her mother’s demise. All of it crashed down on her.
Thinking back, she saw that her entire life was spent running—from her mother’s disapproval, from her true self. Then from her mother’s death and the break-ins. She dodged the people she once believed were friends.
Now she was shutting out the man she was on the tipping point of falling in love with?
Oh, who was she kidding? She was already in love with him.
Breathing hard, she twisted the knob and cracked open the door. His deep voice reached her in disjointed fragments.
“Diary… refuses to… Bring Ari too. Got it. Fuck, we have to…”
She shut the door as silently as possible. He was on the phone with his team, making plans for his problematic, uncooperative ward.
It was time for her to take control of her life and help herself—and him.
She whirled to the vanity and dragged her purse across the surface. She plucked out the album and marched into the bedroom again.
Jaren swung her direction. “I’ll talk to you more when you get here.” He lowered the phone from his ear. His stare dropped to the soft leather book in her hand before flashing up to hers.
He opened his mouth, but she cut across him. “I’m going to get dressed and then sit down and read this.” She waved the album.
His lips hiked up at one corner, and he swiped his hand over his face. “I mean…you don’t need to get dressed.”
The lighthearted comment startled a bubbling laugh out of her. Shaking her head, she crossed the bedroom to her clothing stacked on a chair in the corner.
Leave it to Jaren to make her laugh in the most stressful moment. Wasn’t that what a good partner did, though? Kept her from losing her mind while he let her know in his roundabout manner that he was here for her?
Once she pulled on jeans and a loose black T-shirt that skimmed her body and didn’t catch on the bandaged tattoo, she turned to find Jaren watching her. He sat on the side of the bed and when she faced him, he opened his arms to her.
