Beneath Her Skin Page 7

  She yanked on her arm, but he didn’t budge. Her eyes glittered, ready to combat him. “You have two seconds to let go.”

  He came close. So close the heat of his breath stung her lips, but she did not back away. Her lungs worked fast, dragging air in as quickly as she exhaled. “Let me go.”

  “This was meant for you,” he hissed.

  Brooke frowned, all the air leaving her lungs. “What do you mean?” She drew another deep breath. “Why are you even here?”

  His jaw ticked. “The place is shredded just like your apartment. Whoever did this, wanted you, not Harry.”

  She brought up their linked wrists, eyeing him coolly. “Let. Me. Go.”

  He released her, and she took off toward Harry. Her guts twisted, her brain emptying of everything. This could not be happening. As she made her way to him, the paramedic changed the ice pack at his neck, taking his blood pressure. Nausea threatened her stomach.

  “Harry?”

  His gray gaze softened. “C’mere, Lady Bug.” He offered his hand, and she went to his side.

  Harry smelled of peppermint. Same as always. With her nose buried in his shoulder, she breathed him in, closing her eyes. To think she could have lost him made tears gather in her eyes. He was her last link to family, and to having any link in this world. The last person she had on this earth. Someone as close as a father.

  Brooke pulled back, not bothering to wipe away her tears.

  “Hey, we’ll have none of that,” Harry said softly, reaching up to smooth her wet cheeks. “I’m gonna be fine, Lady Bug. The doc here says it’s nothing.”

  “I didn’t say that,” the paramedic said, taking off the blood pressure cuff. “You need to go to the hospital and let a physician look you over—”

  “Ain’t interested,” he said flatly.

  “Harry, please,” Brooke begged. “You should—”

  The old war veteran snorted. “I took worse in Nam. I don’t need a doctor to tell me to rest or pop a few pills.” He shook his head. “I’ll be fine. It’s nothing serious.”

  She bit her lip, terribly worried. If Harry said he would not do anything, he wouldn’t. He would dig his heels in even more, and he was more stubborn than Uncle Duck had been. There was no sense arguing him down when he felt this determined. Looking toward the Ascent Flights entrance, a steady stream of police went in and out. Sadness filled her. Along with anger. Both feelings tumbled together, not sure which to settle on. But she needed answers.

  She turned her eyes back to Harry, and she asked, “What happened?”

  “That’s a good question, Lady Bug,” he began softly. “One minute I was making some coffee, the next—” He shrugged, “—I heard a noise. As I went to check it out, I was hit from behind. I woke up with Jake standing over me, asking if I was okay. It all happened so fast.”

  “Was that the way of it, Mr. Brewster?”

  They found Detective Abbott beside them, wearing a light tan suit with his black notebook open. Jake and Damon had moved closer too, but Brooke ignored them. Yet there was no mistaking the tightness around Damon’s hard, green eyes.

  “It was just as I said,” Harry replied, a measure of annoyance tipping his voice. “It was a normal day—”

  “I’ll ask the question,” the pudgy Detective said, scribbling over his notepad, not bothering to look up.

  Damon took a step forward. “Now, just a minute, Detective—”

  The officer gave him a scathing look. “Mr. Sinclair, I’ll get to you in a minute,” he said, pointing his pen. “I’ve read a recent report regarding your business. It seems you’re dealing with your own vandalism.”

  His jaw ticked—again. “My security is handling the inquiry. There’s no need to draw parallels.”

  A surge of irritation hit Brooke. “Detective Abbott, is this necessary? Harry is the victim here.”

  Finally, the officer glanced at her, unsmiling and serious. “Ms. Stone, in less than twenty-four hours, your apartment and business have been vandalized. The right questions, in the right order need to be asked. If you don’t mind, ma’am, let me do my job.”

  Before Detective Abbott could ask his next question, Harry grasped Brooke’s hand, squeezing. “What did he say, Lady Bug? Your apartment was vandalized. What’s going on?”

  The worry and unhappiness in Harry’s voice filled her with a measure of shame and remorse. Long gone were the days where she ran to Uncle Duck and Harry to solve her problems. The older she had gotten, the more distance she had placed between them.

  Glancing at him, she smiled softly. “I was coming here to tell you.” A small lie, but one she could live with. The last thing he needed was to worry about her.

  “Not good enough, Brooke Renee Stone,” Harry censured, his tone dipping into fatherly territory, and cutting off Detective Abbott when he tried to speak. He held up a hand toward the robust officer. “Just a minute.” He tugged her closer. “You’re not telling me everything. What happened?”

  She forgot everyone around her, focused only on the man who taught her how to fly—to love the air and to respect the freedom and the dangers. In many ways, he had been more loving and understanding than Uncle Duck, patching up her scraped knees or helping her with her homework. He even taught her how to ride a bicycle and cook. The man could make a pot pie out of almost nothing, and it was the most scrumptious thing to touch your tongue. No, Harry deserved answers, but she had none.

  Shaking her head, she squeezed his hand in hers. “I don’t know. After I went home, it was shredded. Everything was gone. Destroyed. I don’t know who is doing this, Harry.”

  “Lady Bug,’ he breathed. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

  His disappointment was another slash against her heart. “I didn’t want you to worry about me.”

  “Sorry to interrupt, but can we get back to my questions? I’d rather do it here than down at the station,” Detective Abbott said, not waiting for a response.

  Everyone was questioned until Detective Abbott was satisfied. Harry lived in an apartment building behind Ascent Flights, and Brooke helped him back to his place. She wanted to stay, but he fought her off with his gruff manner.

  “Stop now. I don’t need you fussing over me.” He settled down on his sofa, as Brooke covered him with a blanket. “I’ve never needed a woman to do that, so don’t start now, Lady Bug.”

  “Harry…” she trailed off, fighting a pinched breath. She felt so responsible.

  He chuckled, reaching her hand. “Hey, don’t go soft on me. You know I love you, right?”

  Tear threatened. Brooke sat on his scuffed coffee table, facing him, and peered into his eyes. “Yes, I know.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on, but I can’t lose my best girl. Please don’t keep me in the dark, Brooke. No matter what it is, I’m here for you.”

  Her tears fell, and her voice faded into nothing.

  “Who’s that guy from yesterday? How does he fit in?”

  She frowned, swiping away wetness from her cheeks. “He’s—”

  “I was merely in the right place, at the right time, Mr. Brewster,” Damon stated matter-of-factly.

  Brooke gasped, shaking her head. Damon was always popping up, being her savior. But this wasn’t the right time. Before she could say anything, he strode into Harry’s apartment, looking confident and sure of himself.

  “Forgive me for barging in here,” he said. “But I had to be sure everything was alright.” His lips were tight, his eyes narrowed on Brooke. His grim expression was unreadable.

  Harry’s brows drew together. “Who are you? You smell like military, but you don’t carry yourself as such. What’s going down? And don’t lie to me, son.”

  Damon came around the sofa, sitting in the chair next to Brooke, and leaned his elbows on his knees. “I own S-Tec, an engineering firm which handles government contracts. Yesterday, I came to offer Ms. Stone a job, but things went south after I dropped her home and discovered her apartment had been ransacked. No
matter what Detective Abbott concluded, my company is not a threat to Brooke. Thankfully, I happened to be at the right place at the right time.”

  As Harry grunted a reply, Brooke allowed herself to breathe, yet she was far from okay. The whole situation was not normal, just like everything else in her life.

  She ventured a sideways glance at Damon, acutely aware that he was sitting so close. His warmth radiated into her, heating her chilled skin. She ached for his arms around her, fighting off the negative thoughts. His scent bathed her in familiarity and she wanted another inhale to carry her through this storm. In only a matter days, he had saved her from several painful situations: the club, her apartment, now her business vandalism. While she was grateful, a floating thought garnered her attention and she had to wonder how he was involved.

  How else was his convenient presence explained? But then again, Detective Abbott mentioned Damon dealing with vandalism too.

  “Lady bug?”

  Harry drew her out of her thoughts. She flashed a short smile, feeling off kilter. Mentally pulling herself together, she decided to ignore Damon until she could speak to him alone. “Yes?”

  He smiled. “I asked what you’d like to do for today’s roster. There are two flights scheduled. I could still take them up.”

  She hadn’t thought that far ahead, and she shook her head. “There is no need. I will cancel the flights until the police finish their investigation. You need to rest.”

  Though Harry never shirked his duties, relief flashed over his expression. She could tell he was pleased to stay home.

  Standing up, she took two steps toward him and brushed a kiss over his cheek. “Just rest. I’ll call and check on you later.”

  He pulled up the blanket, settling comfortably. “We need to discuss your job offer and how this will affect Ascent,” he murmured, his gaze cutting over to Damon before he met her eyes again.

  As much as she hated closing Uncle Duck’s business, she had to consider the safety of her employees. She wouldn’t place anyone else in unnecessary danger. One glance at Harry and she saw the weary effects of his morning. A tightness rimmed his eyes, his mouth pulled taunt. His worry was obvious and he needed to rest.

  “For now, I will close the doors until everything is settled with the police. Please don’t worry.”

  His hand came up and closed over hers. “I don’t worry about myself, Brooke. I’m here for you. Always.”

  Unwelcome tears stung her eyes, but she fought them back. She couldn’t afford to get emotional now. With Damon a few feet away, a meltdown was out of the question. Getting out of here was her first priority.

  She fixed a reassuring smile on her lips. “I’ll call you later.”

  The heat of Damon’s body warned her he was close, as she strode out of the apartment.

  She took two more steps, and then whirled on him. “What is going on?” she hissed. “Why are you here—again?”

  Damon’s lips tightened. “Brooke—”

  “Don’t honor me with lies, Mr. Sinclair. I’ve had just about all I can take right now. The last thing I need is another person sugarcoating the facts.”

  If anything, his expression grew cooler. “You’re blowing this out of proportion.” He continued when her lips parted. “After your apartment was ransacked, I took the liberty of organizing some additional security for your business. S-Tec security called me—”

  She snorted. “The liberty?” Brooke shook her head. “See? None of this makes sense. If you sought me out for a new job, why would you need to offer extra security? You don’t know me—don’t owe me anything. You’re not telling me everything. What is it?”

  “There’s nothing to share,” he said quietly, his expression closed off.

  She felt he lied.

  Exasperated, she threw her hands up in the air and turned away. “Have a nice life, Mr. Sinclair. I don’t need this.” She fumed inside. The man was hiding something. If he could not be honest with her, why should she work for him? What was the benefit of a cushy job, only to be misled by her boss? She was done.

  “Brooke.”

  He called her name, but she continued toward the elevator. She jammed the down button, contemplating the stairs as a means of a faster escape. The upheaval of the last twenty-four hours crashed down on her. She was tired. Angry. Frustrated. Now Harry was injured because of her. She did not know what to make of this and she certainly would not beg Damon for answers.

  She hung her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. Fear enclosed her in a cloud of worry, knotting her stomach. Such a feeling wasn’t familiar. She was a fighter—a survivor. She did not know much about hand wringing, especially not when two men had raised her. But something was going on and no one had answers. Tears made their way down her cheeks, a silent offering of pain inside the crazy situation. Inside, she hated herself for appearing weak. It was not like her.

  Damon’s hand circled her waist and he turned her in his arms, pulling her close. She did not protest, lowering her hand to his shoulder. His warmth burned through his shirt. She hated how she loved his closeness and how his scent bathed her senses in a welcome pleasure. He was like a magic drug for her, no matter how much she wanted to run away, she relished his nearness. And she wanted more. He took her senses by storm, leaving her cocooned in protectiveness.

  Trembling, her head fell against his chest. Her eyes burned, her eyelids shutting out the world. She gave over the reins of her emotions and cried.

  He held her, rocking her back and forth, murmuring soothing words against her temple. His hand trailed up and down her spine. His touch created a delicious friction, chasing away the demons of the unknown.

  She wanted to stay right here—forever. There was peace here. Desire. The haunting unknown. No matter how fiery her temper, he knew how to console her anxieties. He knew exactly how to comfort her shadows. For one powerful moment, she blocked out the world.

  She pulled back, gazing up into his face. His handsomeness hurt her eyes, and his green eyes were filled with compassion and lust. There was no room for doubts or second guesses. She wanted more at this moment than anger, lies, or violence.

  She ached for sensual freedom.

  “Kiss me,” she whispered.

  A low groan vibrated his throat as he complied. His tongue beautifully met hers, searing and stimulating. A fierce heat streaked through her, igniting a low ache in her belly. He was hardness and gentleness, sweeping over her lips with grace as his hands settled her closer. Her hands traveled upwards, looping around his neck, and sinking into his hair. She fragmented, a thousand tingles making her weak in the knees. This was her moment—her need skimming the surface of desire. She took and took, arching into his hard wall of muscle. Every part of her tightened with anticipation, a moan tickling her throat.

  Damon’s hands cupped her face, and he pulled back. He thumbed her lips as his breath heaved, and a red flush rode his cheeks. “Baby, please,” he said, nearly begging in a gruff tone. “I can’t fight against your beauty, your sensuality—the sweet joy of having you in my arms.”

  The warm ache burst inside her, making her shiver. “I’m not asking you to stop,” she rasped, feeling bold and reckless.

  A small smile curved up his lips. “If I wasn’t sure you would not regret these words later, I’d take you up on your offer.” He released her, taking a step back, drawing his hands down her arms until his fingers linked with hers. “But you are riding an emotional wave and I can’t hurt you by taking advantage. Losing you would hurt more than…” he trailed off, closing his eyes.

  The sinking sensation returned, and Brooke stiffened, withdrawing her hands from his. She felt chilled to the bone.

  Rubbing her arms, she tried to chase the icy feeling netting over her skin. “What is it, Damon? Either we touch fire or we smolder so close to lies, it’s unbearable.” He took a step closer, but she backed away. She shook her head. “Don’t. I need answers, not more half-truths. What aren’t you telling me?” she said firmly, r
aising her chin.

  He visibly looked torn up, a gray pallor touching his face. “I need you to trust me.” Before she could comment, he kept going, “I know this situation looks speculative, but I’m not the one responsible for your apartment or business vandalism. I would never hurt you nor would I use coercion against you, but neither do I know who is orchestrating it. I have my security on it, yet they haven’t found anything conclusive. This is the honest truth, I promise.”

  The sincerity of his plea and the earnest truth reflected in his gaze prompted her to believe him. But she frowned. “We don’t know each other—”

  His eyes narrowed. “Is that a prerequisite?”

  She gave a short laugh, though not amused. “Yes, because most people develop a rapport or trust before lip-locking strangers or offering high ranking positions. Asking me to trust you after all this weirdness is a bit of a stretch.”

  “What would you like to know?” His voice took on a darker, seductive quality.

  There was a predatory gleam in his eyes and he took another step forward. She knew she was in dangerous territory and she backed away, coming up flush against the building wall. Her lungs worked harder, her breath pinching in her chest. “You’re doing it again.” She shook with another round of jitters and lust, and her body tumbled into need.

  “What am I doing?” he whispered.

  “Making me forget my focus and changing the subject.”

  He leaned forward, coming so close his nose brushed hers. He nuzzled her skin. “Why would I do that? Especially when I’ve been honest with you.”

  He sounded so innocent, but Brooke wasn’t buying it. She planted her hands on his chest and pushed him away. “Stop,” she said, shaking her head. She was resolved to keep him at a distance. “If we are working together, we have to keep our lips to ourselves.”

  Chuckling, he grinned wider. “I don’t promise, but I’ll respect your wishes for now.”

  Though relief allowed her breathing to return to normal, she was a bit disappointed. The man could kiss in the most divine way.