Page 27 of His to Protect

“I got a friend, Tyson Blackwell. He lives in town now, but he works for the FBI.”

“No.” She jumped to her feet. “No cops. No law enforcement of any kind.” Shaking her head wildly, she paced toward me and pointed. “I’ll leave. I don’t know what I’ll do without the money, but you have a point. Idoneed to get rid of my car. I’m not sure how yet, but I’ll figure it out. You’ve been kind, I swear. But this…this isn’t going to work.”

“Woah.” I stood and held my palms out, eyes wide. “I don’t know what just brought that freak-out on, Trina, but are you forgetting some asshole not only broke the law by almost breaking your face, but you’ve also had shit stolen from your hotel? You don’t think those things are connected? I’m just suggesting having Tyson look into it.”

“They’re not connected.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because.” She laughed coldly and sat back down. As I watched her try to get comfortable, I returned to sitting on the couch. “Because I left a note for my husband telling him I went on a spa trip.” Her eyes flickered to mine, but the look I returned showed how confused I was. When she spoke again, her voice was softer…sadder. “It’s what I usually do…well…after…when I can’t be seen in public. He’s not even expecting me home until tomorrow.”

She sucked her lip between her teeth and I knew we both realized she’d said too much.

What in the hell did this guy do, where his wife had to leave town when she was too bruised to be seen in public?

Something important, that’s what.

I didn’t let on that I thought there was anything strange about what she’d said. Instead, I asked, “He hasn’t tried to call?”

“Don’t know.” She shrugged. “I threw my phone out before I crossed the city limits, and I bought one of those pay-as-you-go ones before I left the state, but he hasn’t done that in three years, so I’m not sure why he’d do it this time.”

“What was your plan when you hit the road?”

“Canada,” she whispered after a prolonged silence. “Figured he can’t do anything to me if I leave the country.”

I arched a brow. “But he can if you stay here?”

Her face paled before she sighed. “I’m guessing it’s not lost on you that I come from money,” she stated, almost as if she hated it. I wondered if it was the money she loathed, or her circumstances. Perhaps it was the loss of money that made her lips twist with disgust. “My husband is important and powerful, and has an incredibly wide sphere of influence. He’ll be able to find me wherever I go, which is why I was planning on crossing the border. At least there, his influence is less.”

The demand to know what her prick of a husband did for a living was on the tip of my tongue.

“And you won’t let me ask Tyson even to just check and make sure he’s not looking for you? It could buy you time to stay put and make some money before you head to the tunnel,” I said, referring to the Windsor Tunnel, the way most people got to Toronto from Detroit.

“I think the less people who know, the better.”

“For who?” I demanded, my frustration leaking through in my tone. “For him or you?”

“Both,” she snapped, and stood up.

“You ever hear about the Mafia family, the Galeckis, that were arrested in Detroit this past summer?” Confusion flared in her eyes, but I kept speaking. It was on every news network, national and worldwide, for weeks. There was no way she hadn’t heard. “Tyson was responsible for that. His girlfriend, Blue, is a Galecki, and they dated—have a longtime history between them—but they dated while Tyson worked that case and she never found out until she had to. Tyson can be circumspect, Trina, I promise.”

“You’re friends with them?” she asked, recognition widening her pretty, brown eyes. “And she goes by Blue, now?”

“Long story.” A grin twitched at the edges of my lips, because, yeah, it was a strange-as-hell nickname. But it was also because she refused to go back to ever being called Gabriella again, and her middle name, Bluejay, was something she’d always loved.

“I won’t force you,” I lied. I was calling Tyson the minute I could. She might hate me for it one day, but I wanted to protect her and Tyson could help.

Her eyes flicked to Boomer, passed out on the floor. Apparently, the big brute of a dog could only hack chasing squirrels in my backyard for so long before he was drained of all energy.

“I’ll think about it,” she conceded.

“Good. It’s all I ask.” I slid my hands into my pockets and let her think I was giving up. “Now, I have to get to Fireside this morning and start getting ready to open up. You want to come hang out there today or stay here?”

Or take off?

We were both thinking about her doing that.

My breath caught in my throat while I waited for her to decide. Why did I want this woman close to me?

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