Page 29 of Trouble

Without sorting through the text messages and missed call notifications, I navigate to the contact I need.

Me: I need you to pull the security footage from the hallway outside of C 110 and probably the surrounding ones too.

Beckett: It’s already done. Is she okay?

Me: No. But I’ve got her. Don’t destroy the tapes. If she wants to press charges, I want her to have that choice.

Beckett: If we turn over those tapes, that guy won’t be the only one facing questions.

Me: Don’t care. It’s her choice, and I’m not taking it away from her.

Beckett: Done. Liv and Sara have a team dealing with witnesses.

Me: Thank you.

I set my phone on her bedside table and turn it on silent. I never switch off the ringer. It’s important for me to be available for the guys at the department. But for tonight, they can figure it out. The entire town could be on fire, and I wouldn’t leave this room.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispers, though I don’t think she’s talking to me.

Thank god I’m trained in trauma response. If I had to do this using only my own instinct, I’d fail. And failing her isn’t an option.

“How about we focus on small things right now? Like getting changed and ready for bed?”

With her lip caught between her teeth and her eyes downcast, she gives me a small nod. From there, though, we’re both still, quiet. She drags her focus up to my face, frowning, like she doesn’t even know where to start.

I push off the mattress, but she grabs my leg, halting the movement. Dropping down again, I place my palm over her trembling hand. “I’m just going to grab something for you to sleep in.”

She shakes her head. “Please don’t leave me.”

I squeeze her hand and duck closer. “I’m not leaving you.”

She’s dressed in a Bolts jersey and jeans. Neither would be anywhere close to comfortable enough to sleep in, so I slip off my sweater, then pull my white undershirt over my head.

I hold it out to her, my heart stuttering. “You can sleep in this if you want.”

She nods but doesn’t make a move to take it or to undress.

“Do you need help?”

Her eyes well with tears, and her breathing grows more ragged. “I-I—” She snaps her mouth shut, quieting a sob.

“I got you,” I murmur, my heart aching for her. “Can you put your hands up for me?”

She does as she’s told, and I undress her. Her chest is covered in red blotches, the sight enough to make my anger surge again. Despite the way her breasts spill out of her bra when she unhooks it, nothing about this is sexual.

Once I’ve tugged my white T-shirt over her head, she sighs, and the tension in her shoulders eases. She brings the collar of my shirt to her lips and rubs it against them. “Smells like you.”

It probably smells awful. Fear and adrenaline combined inside me tonight, causing me to sweat buckets while I searched for her and as I pulled that asshole off her. But her expression has softened, like the scent brings her comfort, so I don’t give it too much thought.

“Can I unbutton your jeans?” I ask.

She nods again, her breath finally beginning to even out, and lifts the T-shirt high enough that the underside of her breasts peek out. I focus on the task at hand, getting her comfortable, all the while ignoring the longing that hits me at the sight. The desire to hold her against my bare chest. I’m not sure either of us will be at rest until I do. Once I’ve undone her pants, she leans back, allowing me to pull them off, revealing a pairof black lace boy shorts.

She sits again, the shirt falling over her hips before I can study the way her panties mold to her curves. Thank god for that.

“You should have some water and an aspirin before bed. Do you want to come me to get them, or do you want to stay here?”

The fear that flashes in her eyes is the only response I need. Hovering in front of her, I grip her ass and guide her legs around my waist. Once she’s settled and I’ve got a good hold on her, I carry her like a koala.

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