Page 2 of Claiming Becca

She tilts her head, her forehead wrinkling in confusion. She’s pretty, with her blonde hair and blue eyes, even under the dirt and baggy clothes. She glances at the food again.

I take her distraction as an opportunity to step closer to her. “You can have the food on one condition.”

She narrows her eyes. “What’s that?”

“You let my friend and I take you home.”

She flinches and leans away from us. Scoffing, she pushes the box of snacks further away.

“No, thank you. I’m not falling for that,” she declares and tries to sidestep around me, but is blocked by the step I take. Taking a step forward, she takes a step back until she hits the U-Haul. Her eyes are huge as she swallows convulsively.

“We won’t hurt you, but the two guys watching you across the street might.”

She tries to glance around me, so I step aside enough so she can see them. She’s at least a foot shorter than me.

Bass grabs the box of food, offering it to her. “Let us take you home.” The girl rubs the back of her neck as she tries to look around me again.

“I don’t have a home for you to take me to,” she mumbles. Something inside my chest moves. Is she homeless? How? Why? Where are her parents?

“You can sleep on our couch.” I motion to the couch we just brought outside. She pushes on my chest, catching me off guard, and making me step back. She starts laughing.

“I’m not sleeping on your couch.” Her voice quivers, but she doesn’t give in. She eyes the guys watching this exchange. She runs her fingers through her hair and squares her shoulders. “I can take care of myself, but I’ll take your snacks.” She grabs the box of snacks and moves to take off, but I block her again. She scowls at me, and I raise my hands, showing her I’m not a threat.

“You can go. I won’t force you, but let me give you our address if you change your mind.” Glancing at Bass, he nods and runs to the front of the truck to grab some paper and a pen. He writes our address down and hands it to the girl. She grabs the paper, her hand shaking slightly.

“I’m Connor, and this is Bass. What’s your name?”

She puts the paper in her jeans and looks between Bass and me. I wish she’d change her mind. “Rebecca, but people usually call me Becca or Bec.”

“Well, Becca, if you need anything, ever, come by our apartment. Okay?” I tell her, and she nods. She tries to return the snack box, but I shake my head. “You take it.”

She sucks in a breath, clutching the box of snacks, and takes off. Turning, my eyes land on the guys across the street. They move to leave, but I grab the pistol I always keep on me, capturing their attention.

“Don’t fucking think about it,” I warn them, stopping them in their tracks. “If she comes up missing, I will hunt you two down, cut off your balls, and use it as bait when I go fishing. Understood?” They scowl at me. I raise an eyebrow, waiting for them to answer.

“Understood,” they both respond.

Putting my pistol back in my holster, I glare at them. “Tell Donovan and Victor I’m coming after them, and when I’m through, they’ll wish they had never stepped foot in this town.”

“Hey,” I answer my phone as I try my best to focus on the shadows of the alleyway. I was about to park my truck and get out on foot when Bass called.

“Hey, she showed up,” Bass says. Every muscle in my body loosens as I sit back in my seat, exhaling a huge breath.

“Good. I’m on my way.” I hang up without saying bye and make a U-turn toward our apartment, passing a black Mercedes Benz. My eyes narrow. That car is too nice to be on this side of town. Ignoring the intuition in my gut about who it could be, my focus doesn’t waver from getting to Becca.

Walking into the apartment, my eyes land on Becca right away. She’s sitting on the couch, her arms wrapped around her stomach, and rocking back and forth. Glancing at Bass, he motions to me to follow him into the kitchen.

He turns to face me, rubbing the back of his neck. “She said she was too nervous to sleep at the place she normally does.”

“Where is that?”

Bass shrugs. “I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me. She’s not talking much. I think she’s still scared, but figured we’re the safest choice.”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Becca says from the threshold of the kitchen. We turn to face her. She still has her arms wrapped around her stomach.

I suck in a breath as I get a better look at her. Her hair is stringy, black circles under her eyes and dirt under her fingernails. The bruise on her cheek pisses me off, too. Did someone do that to her? I want to wrap her in my arms, but that’s probably not the best decision.

“Do you need anything? Want something to drink?” I open the fridge and shake my head. “We don’t have any food yet since we just moved in—”

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