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He raised one as if she could see them too.
“And when I say I’ll cover your brother’s rehab, I mean if the FBI doesn’t pay for it, then I’ll transfer a fat sum to the facility.”
After a long heartbeat, she nodded. “I get it. You’ll do anything for this case.”
He stared down at the top of her bowed head. The struggle burning his chest wasn’t one he’d experienced before, and he’d done a hell of a lot in his twenty-eight years.
There weren’t words to explain why he felt the bone-deep need to take care of her—in all ways.
Shower steam swirled in the air around them. Gently, he stripped off her bra and finally her panties. Just seeing the cleft between her thighs had his cock gripping to pound into her. Or better, to drag his tongue up and down that slippery seam until she forgot all her cares.
With a gentle nudge, he guided her into the shower and closed the door.
Brought to life by the hot spray of water, she twisted away from the door and let it wash over her. The blood she wore from the battle she fought would run down the drain.
And fight she had. To keep a stranger she didn’t even know alive.
But in turn, she’d given away too much. No longer was she able to fade into the background of the club as one of the girls. When she talked of her pursuit of medicine, everyone heard her. They took into account that she wasn’t one of them.
He needed to speak to Lexis right away. An exit strategy was already forming in his head, a way to get Wren out of here and to safety.
But it means she goes without me.
The thought stopped him in his tracks, one foot over the threshold between bathroom and bedroom.
He grabbed his phone and shot off a text to Lark, telling her that Wren needed clothes.
Lark responded within seconds and then dropped an address for him to pick them up. He calculated the distance to the spot. He wouldn’t have time to run there and back before she was finished with her shower, but he’d put her on his bike and make a few loops through town to ensure none of the Disciples tracked his movements.
He lowered the phone just as the water stopped. Drawn to the woman on the other side of that door, he edged closer, listening.
When the soft cry hit his eardrums, he burst through the door.
Wren jerked around, towel slipping on her bare breasts that glistened with water drops.
His stare snapped to her face. Her brows were creased but she was dry-eyed.
“What are you doing?” She drew the towel over her breasts, banning him from the sumptuous line of cleavage.
“I thought you were crying.”
She stared at him. “I’m not crying. You heard me stub my toe on the damn vanity.”
He directed his gaze to her feet. One small toe was pinker than the rest.
“Are you all right?”
“It’s fine. I’m just clumsy sometimes, especially when I’m under stress. I hurry too much and I—” She broke off. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
He had no clue what the hell his face looked like, but he could tell from the throb in his chest that it wasn’t something he could explain.
Like how he wanted to pick her up and cradle her against his chest to keep her safe even from stubbing her toe.
Slowly, he moved toward her. When he clamped his hands on her waist, the moist terrycloth warmed his skin. Knowing that the thin fabric was the only barrier between his lips and every naked inch of Wren’s flesh didn’t help the throb in his cock.
He lifted her onto the vanity top. Her big blue eyes were soft pools as he took hold of her ankle and raised her foot so he could examine her toe.
“It’s not broken.”
