Page 3 of Her Older Protector

The bastard. She’s too young to be dealing with this kind of shit. She looks like she’s barely twenty years old.

I brush my fingers along the darkening fingertip bruises on her forearm. “Do you need ice for these? Some ibuprofen or something?”

She glances down at the bruises and frowns. “No, I don’t think so. It doesn’t hurt that much now.”

“Leah,” I start, careful to keep my tone gentle, “how long has this been going on?”

She sighs. “It’s been…a while. I broke up with Patrick for good about eight months ago, but he kept harassing me, so I left town. Then I had to leave the next town. And the one after that.”

Thatmotherfucker. “I’m guessing that restraining orders don’t bother him?”

Leah shakes her head as she looks away. “You guessed right. His dad’s a judge and nothing ever sticks. He violates the order, gets picked up and then a report gets lost or the arresting officer can’t make it to court.” She thinks for a second. “I think I’ve had him arrested for violating a restraining order three times now? Not like it matters.”

She looks down at her fingernails, and I notice that the cuticles are ragged, like she picks nervously at them. It makes sense—if I had a shit like Patrick following my every move, I would be anxious, too.

“I’ll figure it out,” she says, half to herself. “I always do.”

My god, she’s strong. It takes a lot to walk away from someone like that. Because the abuse is never just physical. It’s emotional and mental too.

I’m so angry that I want to go find Patrick and break his fucking legs, but I take a deep breath and force myself to remain calm. It wouldn’t solve anything, and more than that, Leahreallydoesn’t need another pissed-off man on her hands.

The exhaustion in those gray eyes needles at me. I wish it was as easy as pulling her into my arms with a promise that my strength and my skills will keep her safe. But it’s more complicated than that—Patrick stole her whole life.

“Let’s order some food,” I finally say. “My treat, and then you can crash whenever you want in my guest room.”

“So, wait,” Leah says through a mouthful of pizza thirty minutes later. She swallows and grabs her beer for a quick swig. “What do youdo?”

My usual well-rehearsed cover story flows out of my mouth almost automatically. “Corporate security and risk assessment.”

She eyes me skeptically. “Really?”

I grin innocently. “Yeah, really.”

Leah takes a thoughtful swallow of beer and leans back into the cushions. “Seems pretty square for a guy like you.”

I lift an eyebrow and take a swig of my own beer. “A guy like me?”

“You know,” she says, gesturing at me. “All ofthat.”

Now I’m just enjoying myself. “All of what, exactly?”

She huffs out a breath. “The height, the muscles, the tattoos…you look like some kind of a super soldier or a spy or something.”

Shrugging, I sip my beer again. “Is that something that you’re into?”

The smile falls away and she looks down, her expression stormy. “Doesn’t much matter what I’m into. It’s been a little hard to date recently.”

“Hey.” I reach over and pluck her beer out of her hands and lace our fingers together. “Don’t worry about it tonight. How about I get the guest room set up, and then tomorrow morning, after you’ve had a good night’s sleep, we can talk about next steps?”

Leah looks up at me and smiles wearily. “That sounds pretty good, honestly. I’m exhausted.”

My guest room is small and modest, but comfortable, and Leah exhales a gusty sigh of relief as she settles under the soft blankets. She’s wearing a loose t-shirt and boxer shorts that I loaned her for pajamas. The soft cotton just caresses her generous curves, and I’m almost jealous that they get to touch her soft skin and not me.

I watch her wriggle under the covers from the doorway, where I stand with my shoulder propped against the frame. I feel a pang in my chest as I imagine climbing into the bed beside her and letting her curl her soft, curvy body against mine.

“Goodnight, Leah,” I finally say, and turn to head back to my bedroom.

She shifts to her side, her big gray eyes fixed on me. “Jake?” she asks. Her voice is soft and uncertain.

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