The Bodyguard: A BWWM Bad Body Romance(22)
“We will bring Solomon and his family to justice, Juliet. I promise you that.”
“When?” She whispered, all but drowning in the tide of nightmarish memories that threatened to overwhelm her.
“As soon as we can. With what you’ve already given us, we can start sending Hank in. He’ll do what needs to be done.”
In that moment, the young woman wished it was Hank there with her, reassuring her. Holding her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d wanted a man to touch her, but she wanted Hank. He’d just watched her relive the hell she went through...if anyone understood, it would be him.
Hank Compton wasn’t the kind of man you threw yourself at. He was angry. Caustic. Foul-mouthed and even fouler tempered. But even he had to admit that things had changed between them since the night he walked in on her drinking. Juliet didn’t know if she’d call herself an alcoholic, but as liquor was the one vice constantly available to her, she’d taken to using it to forget when Solomon did something particularly vile to her. In that way, she’d learned to hold her liquor very well very quickly.
But Hank seeing her drunk...that was a different story. It was a kind of vulnerability Juliet hadn’t meant to show him. The moment he traipsed into the kitchen, she wished she hadn’t drank a drop. It’d be easier to appreciate the sight of the man in his boxer briefs and a tight t-shirt if she wasn’t halfway to oblivion.
That being said, she still remembered the way he’d taken her foot in his lap. How he was careful with her, his fingers wrapping around her ankle to hold it steady. Though it had been a long, long time since Juliet had been genuinely aroused, she couldn’t remember her ankles ever being a weak spot.
But when Hank touched her….
God, she was being an idiot. There had to be a major malfunction in her brain that the first man she interacted with after escaping Solomon tickled her fancy. Hank didn’t even like her and she certainly didn’t like him. They had only recently begun to tolerate one another.
...And yet, she had felt his eyes burning into her for the entire two hours that she spoke. For the first few days they were acquainted, there had been no question in Juliet’s mind that Hank hated her. She’d known it every time she caught him glaring at her from the kitchen or living room. She knew what it felt like to be the subject of his disdain.
But now, things were different.
“I know it can’t be easy living with Hank.” Simmons brought her attention back to the present when he moved away from her, beginning to pack up the recording equipment. “He’s a good field agent, but temperamental. Crowley and Bosh aren’t too fond of him.”
“They’re afraid of him.” Juliet blurted the words before she could stop herself. “They think he’s unpredictable.”
To her surprise, Simmons chuckled. “I can’t fault them there.” He flipped through the notebook he’d been writing in a moment before looking at Juliet once more. “Let me just say this: Hank’s the sort of man that wears certain emotions on his sleeve. He’s pricklier than a fucking cactus because he doesn’t want to let people in. Makes me wonder what might happen if someone did some actual prodding.”
Juliet stared at him. She couldn’t imagine that Simmons was inferring that she should prod Hank. “I feel like a man that abrasive must want to keep his secrets.”
Simmons merely shrugged. “I’m sure he’d find it just as cathartic as you do to get things off his chest.”
Juliet opened her mouth to argue. Speaking about the past few years of her life had been utter hell. She’d felt sick, angry and helpless in turns as she spoke...But, now that it was over, she supposed that Simmons had a point. The young woman didn’t know if she would describe what she felt as better, but she felt different than when she first started speaking. As if she’d let go of something that was hurting her and was lighter for it.
“He doesn’t want to talk to me.” She finally murmured, standing from the table. She was exhausted from the afternoon’s activities. What she really needed was rest and isolation.
Simmons grasped her arm, helping her gently to her feet. “You might be surprised.”
**
Hank had never been a man he believed to be overly wrapped up in how he felt. He concentrated on doing. It was, he’d found, the only way he wasn’t consumed by self-loathing while he wasn’t looking. He’d built half his career on dealing with the aftermath of carnage the Aguiler family wrought, but he’d never had to face anything like this.
He wanted to fucking kill him.
Of course, there was nothing terribly out of the ordinary about that. Everyone who knew anything about Hank knew how he felt about the Aguilers - Solomon in particular. But up until this point, all Hank’s conviction in bringing the man to justice was based solely upon his own personal grudge against the man.
He’d seen what neighborhoods looked like after Aguiler drugs went streaming through them - hell, his own neighborhood fell victim to the family’s clutches while they were still on the rise and he was still dealing with its aftereffects.
But cutting a kid to pieces while he was still alive? Fucking Christ. The man was even more of a monster than Hank could ever have imagined. He didn’t know what disturbed him more - that Solomon was a violent psychopath or that Juliet had been privy to it for all those years?