Page 16 of Chase's Kind of Trouble
For a beat she’s silent. Still as stone.
“I don’t know what to say,” she admits, a shiver wracking her small frame, color creeping up her delicate skin. “I just can’t believe you came out there…that you cared enough to stop him…”
When her words trail off, broken, I have to swallow a knife blade that’s been stuck in my throat.
“That bastard is lucky he’s going to live to see another sunrise.”
Visions of finishing the man off sprout off like fireworks in my head.
My tone grows gruff. I can hardly contain a yell of fury when a vision pops up of him hitting this gentle creature. “What did he want?”
“Money.”
My attention sharpens.
With a pained, mirthless laugh, she spreads her hand across my stomach, stroking my abs almost mindlessly. “He’s got something I need, and he’s basically blackmailing me.”
“You need money?” I don’t know why I ask this because I know she does. She works too hard. Her car is beat. She’s living in a crappy apartment. I know all these things well.
She tilts her face and blinks oddly at me. “Don’t we all?”
“I’m set. Got more than enough. Not bragging, but I’m well invested, played things smart while I was in the Navy. My skillsetdraws high-paying contracts and now I work because I want to work. But I’ve got more than enough to take care of you.”
For a second this sinks in, then she sputters, “Care of me?”
“That’s right.”
Her worry about whatever that dickhead stepbrother is involved with is over. But a single question is like a piranha chewing on my brain.
“Has he hit you before?”
She stiffens a little next to me, her breath going shallow. “I don’t like to talk about that…”
I tilt her face so we’re able to see each other. Really look at one another. Soul-to-soul.
“I’m sorry, angel,” I rasp, losing myself in her eyes.
God, I love how blue they are. The color of mountain lakes in winter. But it’s what’s behind them that drowns me. Sadness. Longing.
The need to be loved.
“You don’t have to ever talk about that again. Or worry about him. That’s over.”
I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I don’t care who Jeremy fuck face is. He won’t get close to my Celeste again.
But she’s not convinced. Yet. I can see the doubt, and understand the reason behind her shaky exhale.
“You don’t know Jeremy. He’s trouble.”
When I drag my thumb across her lower lip, my pulse throbs inside my ribcage. “Celeste, I’ll make sure of it.”
She looks at me for a few seconds before she swallows nervously. Mist building in her eyes. “Chase. You can’t promise.”
Oh god. I groan, rumble. Ache. “Say it again.”
“What?” she whispers.
“My name. I need to hear it in your angel’s voice.”
