Wild Man

Chapter Fourteen You’re with Me

Nearly two weeks later…

I parked behind Brock’s brand new, huge, dark blue GMC, turned off the ignition, exited my car and headed to the trunk, shivering the minute my body left my warm vehicle and hit the arctic air.

It was Denver. Tomorrow, it could be sixty degrees even in December. But that night it was freezing and the air felt like snow, not to mention the forecast said we were going to get a dump.

Good for the mountains and ski resorts, bad for Tessa O’Hara.

I loved snow, playing in it, looking at it, making hot cocoa and reading a book while it was falling outside.

Driving through it… not so much.

I opened the trunk and grabbed the handles of the plethora of parcels in the back, carefully arranging the bags in my grip, bags made awkward due to the copious rolls of Christmas wrap poking out.

I had a weakness for Christmas wrap. In fact, I had a weakness for any kind of wrap including bows and ribbons. I gave into this weakness often so I had an entire closet at my house dedicated to wrapping paper and all its accoutrement.

No joke.

Juggling bags while avoiding poking myself with rolls of paper, I slammed the trunk using my elbow and headed to Brock’s patio.

When my eyes went there, my brows drew together.

There was a Harley outside the gate. It wasn’t Brock’s. It was a Dyna Glide. And anyway, when not in use, Brock kept his Fat Boy on the patio under a sturdy, custom-made cover.

Hmm. It appeared Brock had company.

Still juggling bags, I maneuvered myself through the high, wood patio gate then through the storm door and front door.

Before I could call a word of greeting, I heard Brock say low, “Tess.”

I knew instantly he wasn’t greeting me. It was a warning to halt conversation.

Oh man.

“Hey!” I called, shut the door and walked into the living room, eyes to the right.

Then I saw them. A Hispanic man and a Native American man on the stools in front of Brock’s bar, Brock standing in the kitchen behind the bar.

My first thought, seeing as I was female and these thoughts usually took precedence above all others, was these guys were hot. Not hot, per say, if you were talking the average sense of the word. Hot in the Brock sense of the word which was to say mouth-watering, off-the-scales hot.

My second thought was they not only shared hotness quotients with Brock, but both of them in different ways also had the wild man, dangerous man aura.

For some reason, Brock was communing with his brethren and the serious vibe pulsing in the room said it wasn’t over beers, war stories and nostalgically reminiscing about the bitches they’d tagged.

This was something else.

“Hey babe,” Brock rumbled. “This is Hector Chavez and Vance Crowe, friends of mine.”

“Hey guys,” I greeted.

To this I got a, “Yo,” from Vance Crowe, the Native American man but the Hispanic man just gave me a chin lift.

Definitely Brock Brethren.

I hefted the bags up over the back of the couch and dumped them on the seat then turned to Brock, pulling off my knit cap and immediately running my fingers through my hair in an effort to fix or hide any possible hat head. “You need me to find something to do in the bedroom?”

“No,” he shook his head and then said softly, “Come up here, darlin’.”

Damn.

Just as I thought, that something else had to do with me and/or it was not good news.

My eyes did a sweep through the male talent in my man’s kitchen and I found myself having the curious reaction that not a lot of females would have and that was that I would rather go out, get in my car and track down Martha and Elvira to drink cosmos than take off my coat and join the three best looking men I’d seen in my life in my man’s kitchen.

Regardless of that, I nodded, unbuttoned my coat, took it to the hall closet that separated the down stairs to the boys’ rooms with the up stairs to the kitchen. I hung it up and headed into the kitchen.

The moment I got near, as usual, Brock claimed me with an arm around my waist, pulling my front to his side and I noted all the boys had bottles of Bud.

“You want a beer?” Brock asked and I looked from the counter to him.

“I was thinking hot cocoa.”

He grinned but he didn’t commit to it and I knew this because it didn’t reach his eyes and because it didn’t hit the room.

Damn again.

“What’s up?” I asked quietly.

“Some shit went down today, babe,” he answered.

Crap.

“What shit?” I asked.

He looked to his brethren then back down at me. “Olivia got the letter from my lawyer.”

I found this confusing or, more to the point, this reaction confusing. Brock had contacted an attorney and, using his change of career circumstances as an excuse, he was approaching Olivia to see if they could agree a joint custody schedule, the boys with Brock one week, back with Olivia and Dade the next.

In my mind, there were two possible reactions to this from Olivia. Relief that she could continue with her spa visits and shopping and whatever else she did during her days unhindered by the responsibility of her boys being around most of the time. Or anger just because she was a bitch. Brock, being Brock, had to have prepared for either eventuality.

“And?” I prompted.

“And, she phoned me.”

“Okay,” I said when he said no more.

“And when she phoned me, she asked if we could meet, have dinner. She told me she’s close to leavin’ Dade and she’s scared. She hasn’t worked in over two years, she signed an iron tight prenup, has no money of her own, isn’t in a position to set up again and take care of the boys and certainly not in the position to hire an attorney to deal with me. She reiterated she wants to discuss our situation, the boys’ situation, our family situation and the possibility of reconciliation.”

I felt my mouth get tight. Then I felt Brock’s arm give me a squeeze.

“I said no, babe,” he told me. “I told her that wasn’t a possibility. I’ve moved on, that move from her is permanent and at this juncture in our lives, we need to talk through our attorneys.”

My mouth relaxed.

“Then I got a call from Rex,” he went on and I blinked. He kept talking. “Rex was freaked, said his Mom picked them up from school and she was a mess. Cryin’, carryin’ on, told them what I was doin’, told them she was leavin’ Dade, told them she was scared, told them me bein’ with you meant we’d never have a family again, told them she didn’t know what she was gonna do. He called when they got home and told me even after they got home she was still cryin’ and carryin’ on and she was. I could hear her in the background.”

My mouth again got tight.

Through stiff lips, I whispered, “You’re kidding me.”

“Nope.”

“Damn.” I was still whispering. Then I asked, “What’d you do?”

“What could I do?” he asked back then I read it as the warning sign it was when his arm got tight, his body turned slightly into mine, his eyes locked with mine and I braced. “I hauled my ass over there and calmed her down by promising to have dinner with her.”

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

I pressed my lips together and looked at the counter.

“Baby,” another arm squeeze and I looked back up at him. “This is a minefield. I gotta go slow and cautious. This is why Hector’s here.”

I stared up at him in confusion then looked to Hector, still in confusion, then back at Brock when he started speaking again.

“Hector worked with me at the DEA. He now works for Lee Nightingale. Lee’s got an operation, bounty hunting, some security, private investigation. I got enough on my plate and Hector owes me a favor. I’m callin’ it.”

“You’re calling it?”

“Yeah. I’m havin’ dinner with Olivia and we’ll talk but this shit, it’s the last straw.

Draggin’ the boys into this, cryin’ and carryin’ on, freaking out Rex, plantin’ shit in their heads about you. And when I got there Joey was freaked too. Said she was drivin’ crazy, flipped them both out and it didn’t get better when she continued her drama back at the house. I am not down with that shit. I’m so not down with it, I’m done with it. I’m not goin’

for joint custody, I’m going for full. And to go for full, I gotta have shit to back that play.

Hector’ll find it. Somethin’ on Dade, somethin’ on Olivia.” He pulled in breath and said,

“Sorry, sweetness, but in the meantime, I gotta play her game. I want my move to be a surprise, I want her scrambling and, bottom line, I want my kids. I’m willin’ to do just about anything to see that happen and I’m gonna need to ask you to ride that out with me.”

Immediately, I nodded.

He took in my nod and smiled, this one reached his eyes.

Then that smile died and he said softly, “Somethin’ else happened today.”

Fuck!

“What?”

He hesitated, studying me.

“Brock, honey,” I pressed into him, “what?”

“You remember I told you in my gut that I knew Heller was poising to strike?”

Oh no.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“He’s poising to strike.”

“Oh God,” I breathed.

“Good news is, with my old job, got contacts, informants, friends, folks who owe me. Had a call from one that says Heller’s been askin’ a lot about me. Diggin’ deep. So I made a few more calls and found out he’s in my business, financials, credit history, work history.”

My brows drew together. “Why would he do that?” Then I asked, “How could he do that?

Isn’t that stuff confidential?”

“You want it bad enough and you got the money then you got the means to do just about anything, find someone who can or buy someone who’ll talk.”

This made sense.

“Okay then, why would he do that?”

“That, I don’t know. That’s why Vance is here.” I looked to Vance then back at Brock when he kept going. “He works for Lee too and he doesn’t owe me, I’ll owe him but he’s gonna nose around and see what he can learn so I can prepare for whatever Heller’s planning.”

This should have pissed me off.

It didn’t.

It scared me.

And it scared me because that night Brock threatened Damian, Damian decided to take Brock down a peg. He might be facing serious jail time but that wouldn’t matter to him.

Brock had not only threatened him, he’d shut the door in his face then he stood in my living room at my window and waited until Damian did what he was told, something Damian wouldn’t take kindly in a serious way. And last, but not least, he stood between Damian and what Damian wanted.

I knew from experience that Damian could play dirty, mean and as nasty as nasty could be to get what he wanted. He might be looking into Brock but if he didn’t find anything, which he wouldn’t, then he’d still find a way to fuck with Brock’s life. And fucking with Brock was fucking with me, fucking with Rex and Joel at a time when that situation was tenuous at best and fucking with Brock’s family who I’d come to care about and were in the throes of their own turmoil.

But, bottom line, first and foremost, he’d be fucking with Brock.

And I couldn’t allow that.

So I made a decision.

“I need to make a statement to him,” I announced.

“Come again?” Brock asked and, automatically, my hand fisted in his flannel but I didn’t notice it.

“Tomorrow,” I whispered, “I’ll go into the Station with you and I’ll press charges against Damian. Assault, battery and rape.”

The room filled with crackling electricity that snapped vicious against my skin.

And this wasn’t coming from Brock.

It was then I remembered we had an audience and I looked to the men at his bar.

At what I read on their faces, I tensed.

Uh-oh.

“Sweet Tess,” Brock murmured but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the men at the bar and Brock kept talking, “I didn’t share. They didn’t know.”

I closed my eyes tight, turned my head to face his chest and clenched his shirt harder.

Damn, now I was blurting that shit out willy-nilly.

I felt Brock’s big, warm hand over mine at his shirt, pushing in hard so I had no choice but to unclench and then he pressed my hand flat to his chest as he whispered, “Hey.”

I pressed my lips together and continued to scrunch my eyes closed.

He gave me an arm squeeze.

“Baby, hey.”

I opened my eyes and tilted them up to him.

He looked into my eyes and a shadow passed through his.

“Look at me,” he said gently.

“I am,” I whispered.

“No, sweetness, look at me. What do you see?”

I felt my throat clog.

“Don’t go there, stay here with me,” he urged softly, I swallowed and he pulled me closer, dipping his face lower. “I took that away, baby, you gave it to me. Don’t go there, don’t take that weight back. Look at me, see me. Feel this,” he demanded gently, his arm tightening further, pulling me even closer, his hand pressing mine into the warm, hard wall of his chest.

“Where are you?”

“I’m with you,” I said quietly.

“Yeah, Tess, you’re with me.”

I held his eyes for a moment then closed mine and did a face plant in his chest.

The fingers of his hand at mine curled around tight.

“This is free,” I heard growled and I opened my eyes and turned them in the direction the words came from and saw Vance’s infuriated gaze locked on Brock. “No marker. This I do for your woman.”

I felt my belly tighten with shock as my fingers wrapped hard around Brock’s at his shirt.

“I work that angle too,” Hector announced and my eyes shot to him to see he, too, had his furious, dark eyes locked on Brock.

“Uh…” I mumbled but they were on the move.

“You see to your woman and your boys,” Vance declared. “We’ll get to work.”

Um.

Wow.

I didn’t know them, like at all, outside of the fact they were hot. But I liked them.

“Appreciated,” Brock muttered.

They tore their eyes from Brock and looked at me.

“Tess, next time, hope it’s better circumstances,” Vance said to me.

I did too.

“Thanks,” I whispered.

Hector, who didn’t know me either, wasn’t done being pissed on my behalf and therefore he scowled at me. Then he jerked up his chin at Brock and they moved to the steps. Brock let me go to start moving with them.

“Uh…” I called, they stopped and looked back at me. “I, um… own Tessa’s Cakes in Cherry Creek.”

They just looked at me.

“Uh, well, you boys look like you aren’t cupcake eaters,” more like ribeyes grilled blue,

“but, you know, if you’re ever in the mood, come in, anything you want on the house for, like, eternity.”

It was lame but then again, my cakes were really good. Maybe they wouldn’t think it was lame.

They didn’t. Vance’s handsome face split into a shit-eating grin. Hector’s dark eyes melted, his lips twitched then he gave me a glamorous white smile.

Brock chuckled.

“And, uh…” I started to add, “whichever one of you is on that bike, that bike is hot but be careful. Snow’s coming.”

“Will do, Tess,” Vance murmured.

Then I got more chin lifts and they headed back out.

Moving on!

I headed to the fridge and was perusing options for dinner when I heard and felt Brock come back.

Determinedly setting the mood that what had just passed had passed and now we were going to get back to regularly scheduled programming that did not include bitchy, manipulative ex-wives or vicious, nasty, territorial ex-husbands, I stated, “Dinner choices, steak and potatoes, pork chops and rice or hamburgers.”

I pulled my head out of his fridge, closed the door and turned to Brock.

He was leaning his hips against the counter, hands to his sides, palms to its top, studying me.

Then he gave me my play and answered, “Pork chops and rice.”

I nodded, opened the fridge and pulled out the package of pork chops. Then I dropped it on the counter and opened the cupboard to pull out the box of seasoned rice.

“What’s with the bags?” Brock asked as I tilted my head down to study the directions on the rice.

“Christmas presents,” I answered. “The boys get here tomorrow and the area under the tree is a little barren. Tree skirts are not meant to be barren, especially in a house with two boys aged ten and twelve. So, tonight I’m wrapping and tomorrow they’ll get here and see presents under the tree.”

“Babe, how much did you buy them? There’s gotta be twenty rolls of wrapping paper there.”

“Something to learn about me,” I muttered to the box. “I have a weakness for wrapping paper and not just the Christmas kind.”

This was met with silence.

Until, “Babe, forgot to tell you something.”

I looked from reading the directions on the box of rice to Brock to see he had hauled himself up on the counter and was sitting on it.

“Yeah?” I asked hesitantly.

“Coupla weeks ago, you gave me a fuckin’ sweet nightie and words I loved hearing.”

I felt my entire body go still as I held his eyes.

“Forgot to mention I feel the same,” he stated and my insides hollowed out.

“What?” I breathed.

“Put down the rice and come here, baby, I wanna tell you I love you when you’re in my arms.”

I didn’t move. I stared at him, my internal organs gone but still, my body managed to produce tears which gathered in my eyes and then promptly and silently slid down my cheeks.

Brock watched this for about two seconds then he whispered, “Tess, darlin’, come here.”

I went there; he opened his thighs and reached out to me when I got close. He pulled me between his legs, deep into him, one arm tight around me, one hand cupping my head and pressing my cheek against his chest. I wrapped my arms around his waist and held on.

He dipped his head so his lips were at the top of my hair and whispered, “I love you, my sweet Tess.”

I soft sob hitched in my throat; I held on tighter and pressed deeper.

“Jesus, my girl, so fuckin’ sweet,” he murmured against my hair.

Another hitch then I tilted my head back, his came up and I pulled an arm from around him, lifted it, curled my hand around his neck and pulled his mouth down to mine.

Then I kissed him as hard as I could trying to show him how much his words meant to me.

I was guessing this worked when he tore his lips from mine and muttered, “Maybe I don’t love you. Maybe I just love your mouth.”

I grinned up at him.

“And your cunt,” he went on.

My grin got bigger.

“And your cupcakes,” he added.

I started giggling and he smiled.

Then he whispered, “No, it’s just you.”

I stopped giggling, stared into his quicksilver eyes and then dipped my chin and did another face plant in his chest.

He held me close, arm around me, hand at my head becoming fingers sifting through my hair.

After awhile, I sighed, lifted a hand to my face, swiped away the wet and muttered, “Let me go, baby, I gotta feed my man.”

His hand stopped sifting through my hair and both arms wrapped around me tight.

Then he let me go.

Then I moved away and got down to the business of feeding my man.

* * * * *

I sucked back the dregs of the hot cocoa then moved on my hands and knees across the floor, dragging boxes with me to arrange the newly wrapped presents under the tree. Then I cleaned up paper scraps, put away scissors and tape, bunched up and folded bags and tucked them away and stowed the rolls of Christmas wrap, ribbons and bows in the hall closet.

Through this, Brock lay on his back on the couch, head to a pile of toss pillows, one hand behind his head, one resting on his abs, eyes on a game on television.

I approached the back of the couch, put my ass to it, turned, whipped my legs over while straightening and rolling and, at the last minute, announced, “Incoming,” then I dropped full body on his.

He grunted and his body jerked on impact then his arms wrapped around me.

“Jesus, babe,” he muttered, humor in his tone, that sweet hum filling the air.

I slid off, my back to the couch, my front pressed to his side; I rested a cheek to his chest, arm around his abs and settled in.

Brock moved a hand back to his abs but his other arm stayed curved around my waist, hand at my hip.

I watched football I didn’t give a shit about but I did it contentedly because it was late, I was tired, my mind needed to shut down and the beautiful man who loved me that I loved back was stretched out beside me.

At a commercial, I heard and felt Brock rumble, “What’d you get ‘em?”

Hmm. Apparently the game took all his attention considering the fact that I spent the last forty-five minutes on the floor right in front of him wrapping presents that I did not in any way try to hide.

“Nerf stuff,” I answered.

“Nerf stuff?” he asked.

“When you were out running before we went to look at trucks that last Sunday you had them, I asked them to write a letter to Santa and they did,” I informed him.

“Babe, hate to break this to you but they’re ten and twelve. They know there’s no Santa Claus.”

I lifted my head and looked down at him. “Yeah, I know. But they aren’t stupid. They humored me because they also know I have a credit card.”

Brock’s body shook slightly and pleasantly against mine with his chuckle and I smiled at him.

Then I settled back in.

“What do you usually do for your nieces and nephews?” I asked the TV screen.

“I give their Moms fifty dollars for each kid and they put my name on a card.”

My head jerked up as my eyes shot to him.

Then I asked a horrified, “What?”

“You think fifty dollars is too much?” he asked back.

“No, I think their uncle should buy them presents that he’s put some thought into.”

“Darlin’, the last time I walked into a mall was two presidents ago.”

I stared at him in shock.

Then I asked, “Is that even possible?”

“I got a dick and I was single so, yeah, it’s possible.”

“So, how do you buy the boys presents?”

“Four options, give a wad of cash to Mom, Jill, Laura or all three.”

I stared again.

Then I asked, “Where do you buy clothes?”

“I don’t. I got a Mom and two sisters. I get them for Christmas and my birthday.”

“T-shirts?”

“I don’t get my tees at a mall, Tess. No decent tee can be bought at a fuckin’ mall. A good tee is bought during an experience.”

I had to admit, this was true. When I went the way of tee and jeans just months ago, I’d done copious research with Brock’s tees as my guide and I’d found no tee in any store that was even close to the cool tees he owned.

“Boots?” I kept at him.

“Harley store, babe, doesn’t count.”

This was also true. The Harley Davidson store was one of those rare and exceptional experiences where women and men could go and enjoy but in entirely different ways. And therefore, considering it was an experience, it was acceptable to buy tees there.

That and Harley tees were freaking awesome.

“And, Tess, sweetness,” he went on, “before you get any ideas… you wanna shop for my family, have at it. But I’m not breakin’ my streak.”

Hmm. Dylan, Grady and Ellie, no problem, especially Ellie. The adults, again, not a problem.

There were only two problems.

“I barely know Kalie and Kellie,” I reminded him.

“Kalie, anything with fringe, a peace sign or a fair trade logo. Kellie, don’t bother with anything other than a gift certificate unless it’s the absolute trendiest shit amongst teenagers,”

he advised.

Well, he didn’t shop but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be thoughtful.

Brock continued, “Keep the receipts, put both our names on the card and I’ll pay you back.”

“I –” I started and his arm gave me a squeeze.

“Receipts. Payback,” he grunted.

It was in that moment I got what Elvira said weeks before about Vic at Ada’s party.

Vic needed to man up.

If a man had a line you didn’t cross, he told you, he did it straight out, honestly and made his point clear, like Brock just did.

Cleary, Gwen and Cam had men like that and, now, I had one. Brock wanted Christmas to come from us. He was fine with me buying it and wrapping it but he was going to pay for it and I knew by his tone that this was a point I didn’t argue. For whatever reason, it meant something to him. And for that reason, whatever it was, it meant something to me to give it to him without mouthing off about something that, in the end, was a decent trade off.

Therefore, I whispered, “All right.”

He held my eyes. Then his went to the TV while his mouth twitched.

Whatever.

I settled back in.

Twenty minutes later, the game ended, Brock’s arm tightened and he rolled us both, stretching out an arm, he tagged the remote on the coffee table, the TV went blank, he dropped the remote then he settled back in but pulled me partially onto his front and up so my face was close to his.

Mm. It appeared we’d arrived at my favorite part of the day.

“You good?” he asked and I blinked.

“Sorry?”

“Earlier, all that shit, you good?”

Damn. It appeared we hadn’t arrived at my favorite part of the day.

“Yeah,” I told him.

“Okay, babe, no,” he said, his face serious. “I get why you want to make that play and you were raw earlier so I let you make it then but you gotta know, I don’t like that you’re makin’

any play. Olivia is gonna be in our lives and I don’t like that for me so I really don’t like it for you. Not to mention, full custody is a fuckuva lot different than joint, that works out for me it means you get me and two boys. I gotta know you’re cool with that.”

“Brock, I’m cool with it.”

“Convince me,” he ordered and I stared at him.

Here we go again. This was important (obviously) and he told me straight out. No game playing, no lies, no avoidance, no subterfuge. This meant something to him (again, obviously) and I had to share.

So I told him, “I wanted kids.”

It was then he started staring at me.

Then I shared, “Around the time we were ready to go for it, Damian started hitting me.”

Brock closed his eyes.

I kept speaking.

“He thought I went off the pill. I hid it from him and kept taking it.”

Brock opened his eyes.

“You’ve got two great sons,” I said softly. “And I lost my shot. So I’m never going to be a Mom. I came to terms with that awhile ago; not easy terms but I had no choice. Something else I allowed Damian to take away from me. But, this keeps being as good as it is, I have the shot to be a damned good stepmom and if that comes with four days a month or every other week or every day, I don’t really care. I had a good stepmom so I have a good role model.

Donna was awesome. She and Dad didn’t have any kids because he was sick and he never knew for sure where that disease would take them and he didn’t want to leave Donna alone to raise a child and he didn’t want to do that to a child because he watched my sister and me deal. So she poured the love she’d have had for her kids into my sister and me. I love her.

We’re still close. She means the world to me. So, if my life with you comes with them, since I love you and I’m falling in love with them, however that comes about, it makes me happy.”

His hand slid into my hair, his eyes got soft and his mouth murmured, “Tess.”

“Convinced?” I asked.

One side of his lips tipped up. “Yeah.”

“Good,” I whispered.

Then I studied his relaxed face and took in a soft breath.

Okay, since we were having a serious conversation, I decided we might as well continue to have it and also address something Brock and I had not addressed since it happened.

In preparation, I slid my hand up his chest to his neck, wrapped my fingers around and relaxed my body into his before I asked softly, “Will you tell me about Bree?”

His fingers tensed on my hip then he asked back, “How much did you hear?”

“Not sure but at a guess?” He nodded. “Most of it.”

He stared at me. Then he muttered, “Right.”

“It wasn’t cool to eavesdrop it was just –”

“Babe, with Levi, fuck, with my entire family, you’d hear it one way or the other and bein’

with me, you’d learn it eventually so it doesn’t matter.”

“I won’t eavesdrop again,” I promised and his hand gave me another squeeze.

“Darlin’, we get to the point where we’re keepin’ anything from each other, we got problems. This is not me and Olivia, where she’d go shoppin’, hide shit in the closet and I wouldn’t find out we were maxed on our credit cards until I got the statements and learned she was dedicated to the mission of memorizing every square foot of Cherry Creek Mall. And this is not you and that assclown where you gotta protect yourself by hidin’ somethin’ as important as takin’ birth control. This is you and me. Eavesdropping is not an available option ‘cause, to make this real and make that real rich, it’s gotta all hang out.”

I liked that. A whole lot.

So I whispered, “Okay.”

“Okay,” he whispered back then said, “I asked Bree out the first day of her freshman year, my sophomore year of high school. She said yes and we were tight from that day on. She was tight with me and she was tight with my family.”

I nodded.

Brock kept talking. “I got a scholarship to U of A to play baseball. She followed me down there. But she was close with her family and mine and her friends up here. She didn’t last.

She hated Arizona not because of Arizona, because she missed home. Her sophomore year, she transferred to UC. We thought it’d be cool, we survived the long distance thing my freshman year in Arizona, we figured we’d make it a couple more years. We didn’t. By Christmas, I’d met someone else and realized I was not the kind of man who was not going to taste the variety of flavors life had on offer. Because of that, I also realized what I had with Bree was more about history and friendship than what it takes to make the long haul. I came home, talked to her about it, she was not in that place and wasn’t happy about it but she had no choice. I was done.”

Oh man. Harsh.

Honest, but harsh.

I pulled in breath but kept quiet and Brock continued.

“I went back after Christmas and so did she. She got it about a month later.” He grinned.

“I got good taste and she was seriously fuckin’ pretty. Available for the first time since she hit the dating game, she had ‘em eatin’ out of her hands. She enjoyed the fuck outta that. She connected with me in the summer when we were both home and told me she got it. I was pleased as fuck, she was a good friend and I missed her. Our relationship changed and it got better ‘cause, like I said, she was a great friend and she was damn fun to be around. We had good times. We still had each other’s families. It worked.”

I nodded again.

Brock kept on with his story and I knew we were hitting the hard part when his eyes got dark.

“She had an older cousin and when I say that, he was a second cousin nearly old enough to be her father. Like my family, hers was close. I knew them all and I did not like this fuckin’

guy’s vibe, never did. Bree was immune to it. To her, family was family even if they were weird, nuts or off. That was the kinda heart she had, she let everyone in and didn’t ask questions.”

Oh man.

“By this time, I was out of school, went to the Academy and was an officer with the DPD

workin’ toward detective. She had graduated, workin’ full-time but still goin’ to school at night to get her Master’s degree. One night, he shows outta the blue, she lets him in.”

“Brock,” I whispered when that darkness in his eyes intensified and his fingers dug into my flesh and didn’t loosen. “Maybe you should stop.”

“Can you handle it?” he asked.

“If you need me to,” I answered.

“That ain’t a good answer, sweetness.”

“Then, yes, I can handle it.”

He examined my face. Then his fingers loosened.

Then he carried on, “He fucked her up, Tess. We’re talkin’ bad and that shit’s bad anytime but hers was worse, violated her and laid her out. Beat the fuckin’ shit outta her before he raped her and he didn’t do it once, he spent all night with her and did it repeatedly. She was so fucked up, she reported it took her half an hour to crawl to the phone after he was gone.

She was in a hospital bed two weeks. This guy fucked her up and this guy was fuckin’

whacked. When I got him and we finally got his DNA, it showed Bree was his fifth or at least she was the fifth who reported it.”

“Oh my God,” I whispered and he nodded.

“Compulsion,” Brock told me. “Uncontrollable. That was why he fucked up and went after family. In interrogation, they broke him. He’d had his eye on her for fuckin’ years, beat it back, that night, whatever broke in him broke and he couldn’t beat it back anymore.”

“So,” I said hesitantly, “you got him?”

He nodded. “Wasn’t my case ‘cause I didn’t have cases. I was still in uniform. Levi and me went to go see her, took some time ‘cause her fuckin’ jaw was wired shut, but she finally got out the basics of what went down and I took leave because he’d gone to ground and they couldn’t find him. He knew he fucked up. He was in hiding, preparin’ to bolt. I hunted him down and we’ll just say when I found him, I did not exactly follow procedure.”

Damn.

“You hurt him,” I whispered.

“Remember what I said to you about what I wanted to do with Heller?”

I nodded.

“I did that to him and I did it in a way I know he still hasn’t forgotten me. And the DPD

frowned on that. I was suspended and it was investigated. I didn’t fuckin’ care. It was worth it to me then and it’s worth more to me now even though, then and now, I knew I fucked up.”

“They didn’t fire you,” I noted.

“No, don’t know why, they should have. What I did weakened their case. What I did made it so his case mighta been thrown out and it was iron tight with his DNA matching multiple samples and women making solid IDs. What I did fucked those cases too. But they didn’t can my ass and the case didn’t get tossed because it didn’t go to trial. Family pressure, he confessed to all five. His confession swung good my way and since the case didn’t get fucked, with me, they said extenuating circumstances. I had a good record, I was a good cop and my captain had taken to me, saw in me that I’d have a good career so he took my back and so did some brothers on The Force. And everyone knew who she was to me and they knew what he did to her and, right or wrong, all of them, someplace inside them, knew the same thing happened to someone they gave a shit about, they’d either do what I did or consider it. They still gave me shit work, put me at a desk and this is why I know desk work is not for me. I worked my way outta that shit and back on the beat. Then to detective.

Through this, Bree went off the rails and then she went down. Heroin. OD. Everyone, including me, tried to pull her outta that shit. We couldn’t. Watchin’ her descend into that world was like a form of torture, not only watchin’ her but watchin’ her Mom and Dad and sisters watch her while bustin’ their asses and failin’ to get her straight. Don’t know how many times I was called in ‘cause she was in a holding cell, strung out, dazed, not even knowin’ where the fuck she was and that she was pulled in for solicitation on a sweep. Too fucked up even to be smart enough to avoid getting arrested no matter how many times it happened. Suckin’ cock for twenty dollars so her pimp would keep her supplied. The last time I saw her breathing, I barely recognized her.”

Oh God, God.

“Honey,” I said gently.

“It was fucked, Tess.”

“Yes, it was, baby,” I whispered. “So you decided to do something about it and moved to the DEA?” I ventured cautiously.

He closed his eyes and drew breath in his nose.

I waited.

Then he opened his eyes.

“She was my first,” he said quietly, his voice thick and I pressed closer. “I still loved her, Tess. Not the same as when we started but she was a big part of my life. Does somethin’ to a man to have that kind of person in his life, to be able to laugh with her about shit that went down when you were fifteen and have her end like that. She was the first to go down on me, to take my cock and to think she sold the beauty she had to give for dope burned out my insides. She was the first woman to tell me she loved me. She shared her dreams with me, Tess. What she wanted to do, where she wanted to go, how many kids she wanted to have. At one time in our lives, we talked about those things in a way we thought we’d be sharin’ them.

So, yeah, I was driven to do something about it. But Levi was wrong; he didn’t see her in a holding cell. He didn’t see all she turned out to be. I knew she was gone before she was gone and I let her go way before that and I did that for my own peace of mind because I already nearly lost my career and fucked over four other girls who needed justice gettin’ too tied to what happened to her and not makin’ smart decisions. I didn’t do what I did on a crusade to bring her back. I did what I did because Bree isn’t the only girl out there with family who loves them and old boyfriends who give a shit facin’ that life and someone had to help them and I decided that someone would be me.”

At that, it swelled inside me, so huge and so fast, I couldn’t stop myself from blurting, “I love you.”

“I know,” he replied.

“No,” I shook my head and got close, “I love you, Brock Lucas.”

His eyes lost that darkness and his hand in my hair slid down and curled around my neck.

“Baby,” he murmured.

“What you did, you saved a lot of girls,” I whispered fiercely.

“I know.”

“That’s beautiful,” I told him.

“Tess –”

“And that’s her legacy as well as yours,” I stated.

He stared at me.

I kept talking. “You cared about her that much to do what you did for others, it was you doing it, putting yourself out there but it was how you felt about her that pushed you to do it and she was the kind of person who made you feel that deeply so she gets that part. She died tragically but her death meant something to the futures of a lot of other people and that’s beautiful.”

“I never thought of it like that,” he said quietly.

“Well, start,” I ordered.

He looked into my eyes a moment then started chuckling.

“Shit, babe, when’d you start gettin’ bossy?”

“Christmas. It does shit to people,” I answered and his chuckling got louder.

Then he asked, “We done pourin’ out our hearts?”

“For now,” I replied and he smiled again.

Then his smile faded, a warm, sultry feeling filled the room, his eyes dropped to my mouth and his fingers pressed into my neck.

Then he muttered, “All right, then let’s go to bed.”

I stared into quicksilver eyes that were staring at my mouth, the eyes of the man who loved me, the eyes of a wild, rough, beautiful man who I knew but the proof had just been laid out for me felt exceptionally deeply and had an endless capacity for loyalty and I didn’t protest.

Not that I was going to anyway.