Desperate Girls (Wolfe Security #1)(36)
Security gap filled. Or so they hoped.
“What is the problem?”
She looked at Erik. “Huh?”
“You said my volume isn’t the problem. What is?”
She put down her water and grabbed a Vanity Fair off the coffee table. “Just, you know, general insomnia.”
She flipped through the pages and found the article she’d tried to get through earlier, an interview with some twenty-three-year-old actress from the summer’s big blockbuster. Brynn had absolutely zero interest in the woman, beyond the fact that she was gorgeous and Liam had protected her a year ago. Did Wolfe Sec still work for her? Had Erik ever met her? Maybe he’d been on her detail and they were friends now. Friends with benefits even, if he was ever in LA.
Brynn was losing her mind. Truly. She needed sleep. She glanced at the TV.
“Are you watching this?” she asked.
“I’m watching you.”
She looked at him.
“What’s wrong, Brynn?”
“Nothing.”
He picked up the remote and switched off the television. Then he leaned his elbows on his knees and looked at her.
“Talk to me.”
His words sent a rush of heat through her body. His words and his eyes. They were dark and serious, and the only light now came from the glow in the kitchen.
And he was completely focused on her. He knew something was bothering her, and he was determined to pin her down on it. Maybe that was why she’d come out here.
“I can’t go to the funeral,” she said.
“Jen’s?”
She nodded. “It’s at ten o’clock, and I have to be in court at eight thirty. Not that I even want to go. I hate those things, but I should be there.” She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Jen took a chance on me when I was straight out of school. I was drowning in loans and desperate for a job, even though my GPA wasn’t great and my résumé was thin. We hit it off, and she gave me a shot, and I owe everything to her. And now . . . I can’t even make it to her funeral.”
“She’d understand.”
“She would. That’s the irony. She never let her personal life get in the way of her work.” Brynn combed her hand through her hair. “I’m relieved, if you want to know the truth.”
“That you have an excuse?”
“I don’t really want to see all those people from my past and think about Jen and how she died.” Brynn sounded whiny, even to her own ears.
Erik reached over. He took the magazine from her hands and set it on the table.
Her pulse picked up.
“Brynn.”
“What?”
“I know you’re worried.”
Worried didn’t begin to cover it. She felt paralyzed by her own thoughts. And she couldn’t stop thinking them. Every time she tried to sleep, her brain got stuck on this continuous loop.
“But we will protect you, no matter what. That’s ironclad.”
She laughed. “Why? You don’t even like me.”
“You’re wrong.”
He held her gaze, and her pulse sped up again. Her skin felt tight. There was something in his voice, his look.
“I won’t lie to you,” he said. “Corby is a serious threat. He’s armed, and he’s experienced.”
“And he managed to escape from prison. And get the drop on a cop.”
“Retired cop,” he said.
“Same thing.”
“No, it’s not. Mick McGowan wasn’t ready for him. He never saw him coming. We’re prepared. We’re trained, and we have the advantage.”
She stared at him, not wanting to voice her doubts.
“You still don’t believe me?”
“I want to, but . . . it sounds a little arrogant.”
“Not arrogant, confident. It’s not arrogance if you have the skills to back it up.” He rested his hand on her shoulder. It felt warm and heavy, and her pulse picked up at his touch. “You need to trust us, Brynn.”
He held her gaze, and she wondered what it would be like to kiss him. She could tell he was attracted to her, and he had to know it was mutual. But she sensed his frustration, as though he didn’t want to be attracted to her.
He dropped his hand from her shoulder and stood up.
She stood, too.
“You should get some sleep.”
It was a dismissal, and she felt a twinge of hurt.
Then he surprised her by walking down the hallway to her room. She followed him, and he stopped at the thermostat beside her door.
“You hot?” he asked.
“Not anymore.”
She watched as he crossed her darkened bedroom. He parted the slats on the miniblinds and peered out. Most of the window treatments had been closed since she’d arrived, and after learning Corby might have access to rifles and not just handguns, Erik had given her strict instructions to keep everything closed at all times.
He returned to the door, darting a glance at her rumpled bed.
“You’re off at midnight?”
“Yeah.” He touched her waist, surprising her again. “And on again at eight.”
She gazed up at him, and suddenly the air between them felt so charged that she couldn’t breathe. His fingers were on her waist, burning a hole through her thin T-shirt.