Page 28 of Tangled in Red

Brett nodded, not trusting his voice.

Gently, Diablo pushed the fabric back, revealing the full extent of the bruise. His face hardened, jaw clenching as he traced the air just above the mark, not quite touching.

“Your uncle?”

Brett looked away. “Yeah.”

“And this?” He took Brett’s wrist, turning it to examine the finger-shaped bruises. “Also him?”

“His friend Jack.” The name tasted bitter on Brett’s tongue. “He got handsy with me when I went home.”

Something dangerous flashed in Diablo’s eyes. “Tell me where he lives.”

“What? No.” Brett pulled his hand back. “I told you I can handle it.”

“This”—Diablo gestured at the bruises—“isn’t handling it, pajarito.”

“I have a plan,” Brett insisted, though that was stretching the truth. His only plan so far was to save enough money to move out, which was happening at a glacial pace.

Diablo’s expression softened slightly. “Tell me your plan then.”

“I’m working on it,” Brett admitted, picking at a loose thread on the comforter. “Saving up. Looking for a better-paying job.”

Diablo tilted Brett’s chin with his finger. “Move in with me.”

“What?” Brett’s lips parted, certain he’d misheard. “We barely know each other.”

“I know enough.” Diablo’s thumb traced Brett’s lower lip. “I know I want you safe.”

The offer hung between them, tempting and terrifying all at once. Brett’s heart raced as he considered it—escaping Frank and his buddies, waking up beside Diablo every morning.

“I can’t just...” Brett trailed off, unsure how to explain the complicated mess that was his life.

“Think about it,” Diablo said, mercifully not pushing further. His hand dropped from Brett’s chin, leaving a ghost of warmth behind.

Brett nodded, emotions tangling in his chest. Part of him wanted to say yes immediately, to grab this escape route with both hands. Another part, the cautious side of him, whispered warnings about jumping from one dangerous situation into another unknown one.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Diablo suggested, clicking off the TV. The room plunged into darkness, save for a sliver of light from beneath the bathroom door.

Brett slid under the covers, hyperaware of Diablo’s massive form beside him. The mattress was sinfully comfortable, cradling Brett’s tired body in all the right places.

“Diablo?” he whispered into the darkness.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you. For tonight. For everything.”

A large, warm hand found his under the covers, fingers intertwining with his. “De nada, pajarito.”

Brett squeezed the hand holding his, marveling at how something so simple could feel so significant.

Chapter Seven

The room fell silent, the hallway light sneaking in from under the door. Brett lay there, every inch of his skin tingling from where Diablo’s heat pressed into his back. He could feel the steady rise and fall of the man’s chest but knew he wasn’t asleep.

Which made Brett want to poke the bear... or rather, the wolf, and maybe get “poked” back.

With a mischievous bite of his lip, he scooted back a little, borrowed shirt inching up his thighs as he eased his ass into Diablo’s groin. Oh, sweet hell. If that bulge was Diablo when he was soft…

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