Crash Into You

“If it’s such a hardship, you could always move back into the main house,” said a female voice.

Reid startled and nearly dropped the sack of groceries he’d been carrying. “Jesus, Aunt Roslyn, what are you doing in here?”

His aunt rose from his couch and crossed her arms over her chest, her face as tight as the bun in her dark hair. “You got a package today.”

He set the bag of food on the counter of his efficiency kitchen and stared at the large cardboard box in front of her. “Okay. I appreciate the heads-up, but no need to personally deliver it.”

She picked up the box and flipped it over, dumping the contents onto the coffee table. A slew of items spilled across the surface and Reid groaned. Handcuffs. Floggers. A blindfold. A few brightly colored vibrators and a number of other things even he couldn’t identify. Son of a bitch.

She turned her angry-parent death stare on him. “What the hell is going on, Reid? Do I need to call Dr. Leonard? I know he only sees patients until eighteen, but he may make an exception for us.”

His jaw clenched, the ridiculous suggestion making his blood curdle. “Back off, Aunt Ros. This isn’t even my stuff. Jace must’ve had it sent here since he’s staying with his sister right now. And what are you doing opening my packages anyway?”

Her stern expression didn’t soften. “The label said R. Jamison. And I have the right to open anything that’s put on my doorstep.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. He was going to kill Jace. Beyond the embarrassment factor of being in the same room with his aunt and box of sex toys, he knew where this was headed. “I’m sorry. He should’ve never sent this here.”

She eyed him with her trial lawyer shrewdness. “Reid, I don’t have to remind you how important it is that you do nothing to bring attention to yourself during this campaign. Your uncle is running on a family values platform and I refuse to let your… issues put that at risk.” She sighed and shook her head. “I thought we were past this.”

“My issues?” he bit out. “What the hell? I haven’t gotten in any trouble since high school. And even then, it was just stupid shit. You act like I’m a goddamned criminal.”

She walked around the coffee table and came to stand in front of him, her diminutive stature doing nothing to diminish her power­ful presence.

“But your father was. And this”—she cocked her head toward the emptied box—“was his specialty.”

Like he needed a reminder. “It’s not my stuff. And even if it were, I would never hurt a woman. I’m not him.”

“Genes are a powerful thing, Reid. Don’t underestimate them.” She touched his shoulder, her tone gentling. “I know you can overcome them, but don’t put yourself in bad situations. I’m only looking out for you.”

And the campaign. She didn’t say it, but he knew that’s what she meant. “Right.”

“Get rid of this stuff. I can’t even imagine what poor Vanessa would think if she saw you with this filth. Don’t mess things up with her—she’s a fine young lady.”

Vanessa. He hadn’t thought about her all day. Hell, he hadn’t thought about any woman since the new receptionist had started at work. He didn’t know what it was, but something about Brynn held him captive. He’d barely gotten a lick of work done in three days.

But he definitely couldn’t tell his aunt about Brynn. He knew Ros had heard wedding bells the minute he and Vanessa had started to see each other a few months ago. Both she and his uncle tag-teamed him regularly, pushing for him to make the relationship with the mayor’s daughter exclusive. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you.” Ros gave his shoulder a quick squeeze, and then headed past him. He didn’t unclench his teeth until she’d clicked his door shut behind her.

Stalking to the couch, he pulled his phone from his pocket and hit speed dial.

His best friend answered on the first ring. “Hey, brother.”

“Jace, not only am I going to kill you, I’m going to do it slowly and painfully.” Reid sank onto the couch.

Jace laughed. “You must’ve gotten my present.”

“What were you thinking, sending this crap over here?” He lifted the handcuffs and examined them, heat rising in his gut as an image of him sliding the cool metal over the narrow wrists of a certain blonde receptionist filled his mind. He dropped them on the table. “My aunt opened it before I got home.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, now she’s ready to sign me up with the kiddie shrink again, because I’m apparently a rapist-in-training.”

Jace groaned. “Dude, I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure

my sister didn’t see it. I told them to have it delivered to the guesthouse.”

Reid didn’t even want to ask what Jace could possibly need with all that stuff. He had enough crap to throw a goddamned orgy. “Just come and pick it up. I don’t need her bringing my uncle over here to see it.”

“Hey, look, take whatever you want from the box to keep,” he suggested. “It’s top-quality stuff. Consider it my apology for getting you in trouble.”

He eyed the different items that had tumbled out of the box—things meant to restrain a woman, to cause pain, to bring ­pleasure. He wet his lips. “It’s not my thing.”

“Uh-huh,” Jace said, his tone sly. “So you wouldn’t want to try some of that stuff out on that pretty receptionist you were drooling over today?”

He coughed, his throat threatening to close as erotic images crowded his brain. “It’s not for me.”

Liar. Imagining Brynn bound and naked had his cock straining against his pants. Hell, talking to her that afternoon had done as much. But he couldn’t tell Jace that—couldn’t tell anyone. He’d kept those urges in check for as long as he could remember, and he definitely wouldn’t risk screwing that up, especially with someone like Brynn. He liked her. Liked her enough not to inflict his darkest desires on her. No, with Brynn, he’d have to be extra careful.

THREE

now

Brynn waved as her date drove out of the dark parking lot. He’d received an emergency call and had to head to the hospital, saving Brynn the awkward end of night, this-ain’t-gonna-happen conversation. She leaned against the brick wall outside the banquet hall and rubbed her hands over her face. What a disaster of a night.

Thank God tomorrow was Sunday. At least she could sleep in and pretend the outside world didn’t exist for a little while. Maybe a day of pajamas, HGTV, and massive amounts of junk food could make her temporarily forget about facing Reid on Monday… and every workday after that. She groaned and tapped the back of her head against the wall, hoping maybe this was all some nightmare and she’d wake up.

“Sent him packing, huh?” The deep drawl caused her eyes to snap open. Reid leaned his shoulder against the wall, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

She crossed her arms over her chest and straightened. “He got called into work. Not that it’s any of your business.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the half-empty parking lot. “Let me give you a ride home. It’ll give us some time to catch up.”

She couldn’t help the derisive laugh that bubbled to her lips. “No thanks, I have my car, and please tell me you’re not suggesting we need to catch up like old friends. Even you can’t be that dense.”

He angled toward her and planted a hand against the wall, right next to her head. His face moved to within inches of hers. “You really hate me that much, sugar?”

His calm, commanding tone and the old nickname sent goose bumps along her skin. She pressed her back against the wall, her heartbeat switching to double-time. Here it comes. She sucked in a ragged breath, and the smell of his cologne wrapped around her like a familiar blanket. Her muscles stiffened, bracing for the panic attack she knew would hit her at any moment. Being cornered sent all her fear triggers firing.

But the terror never came.

Instead, she couldn’t take her eyes off the sensual curve of his mouth. She remembered all too well the things he could do with those lips, that tongue—how he could tease her body without mercy and then when she’d thought she’d go mad with need, send her rocketing into oblivion. A heated shudder rumbled through her and a sharp ache settled between her thighs.

His finger slipped under her chin and tilted it upward, so that she had to meet his eyes. “Well?”

His voice was so close it was as if he’d climbed inside her head. She wet her lips. “I—”

The blaring ring of her cell phone jolted her from her haze. Reid frowned down at her purse and shoved away from the wall.

She dug through her bag with shaking hands and grabbed the phone. “Hello?”

“Brynn, it’s me.”

She sighed. Late-night calls from her sister usually meant one of two things: she needed money or she was in some kind of trouble. “Hey, Kelsey. What’s going on?”

“Are you busy? I know it’s late, I’m sorry, I just… I need to talk with you and I couldn’t wait until morning, and I… Can you talk?”

Shit. A rambling Kelsey—never a good sign. Brynn glanced at Reid, who was now sitting on the railing of the handicap ramp, watching her intently. She turned her back to him and faced the wall. “I have a minute, what’s up?”

“No, I mean, like, talk in person. Something’s going on, and I… well, I may need to get out of town for a while. But I want to talk to you first.”

“Hold up. Leave town? What are you talking about?” She lowered her voice. “Kels, are you on something?”

“No. It’s, I… Can you just meet me at my apartment? It’s important.”

Brynn pinched the bridge of her nose to ward off the sudden pounding in her head. The last thing she felt like doing was traipsing across town at midnight to go deal with what would surely be unfounded drama, but what else could she do? Her sister had been making slow progress toward bettering her life. If she was having a bout of paranoia or had slipped up and gotten high again, Brynn had to help her through that. Plus, Kelsey had no one else to go to—never had. “Sure, I can be there in half an hour.”

Kelsey breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, B. Hurry, okay?”

“Will do. Just hold tight.” Brynn clicked her phone shut and tucked it back in her bag. She didn’t want to turn around. She could feel Reid’s stare burning into her back. God, why had she let him get so close before? She needed to institute a five-foot rule with him—anything closer than that and her hormones could not be trusted. He’d probably seen the arousal written all over her flushed face.

“Your sister okay?” he asked.

She straightened her shoulders and turned around. ­“Eavesdrop much?”

He shrugged, unapologetic as usual.

“She’s fine. She just wants me to stop by,” Brynn said, rummaging through her purse for her keys.

“Right now?” He looked down at his watch.

She threw him a what’s-it-to-you look, grabbed her keys, and headed in the direction of her car. His hand caught her upper arm when she passed him. “We need to talk.”

She wiggled out of his grip, the skin-to-skin contact too much for her frazzled nervous system to handle. “I don’t have time for this tonight. My sister needs me and it’s not a short drive to Quincy Heights. So this little come-to-Jesus is going to have to wait.”

His frown dipped deeper. “Quincy Heights? You can’t go there at this hour. That neighborhood’s a war zone.”

She snorted. “I grew up in neighborhoods like that. I’ll be fine.”

She started walking again, but he hopped off the railing and caught up with her. “I’ll drive you. I promise not to speak… much.”

“Yes, because a hotshot lawyer in a Brooks Brothers suit is really going to scare off the bad guys.” She halted her step and turned to face him. “Look, Reid. The last time I asked for help, you told me no. I don’t plan on asking again. So, go home. Stop acting like there is some discussion we need to have. There isn’t. Everything’s been said. Just come to work on Monday and pretend like we’ve never met. ’Cause that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

He eyed her, his jaw visibly flexing, but didn’t say anything else.

Good. She’d take his broody silence as agreement. She spun on her heel and didn’t bother to look back. Reid Jamison might’ve been able to bend her to his will when she was twenty, but if he thought his sexy smile and whispered commands would get him anywhere with her now, he was more delusional than her clients.

Brynn turned her car onto her sister’s street. The apartment complex was the last residential holdout on a street littered with pawnshops, bail bondsmen, and strip clubs. Reid hadn’t been off base in his assessment of the neighborhood. The Quincy Heights area probably had more hookers, drug addicts, and shootings than any other part of the city. Unfortunately, that type of area was more familiar to Brynn than the middle-class suburb she now called home. The part of Fort Worth she’d grown up in hadn’t looked much different than this.

She parked along the curb, then opened her glove compartment to grab her mace. She may have told Reid she could handle it alone, but she wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t going to go out on these streets this late at night with only a few self-defense training classes under her belt. Weapons were better. She tucked the mace in her purse and climbed out of the car.

Besides a woman in stilettos and spandex standing on the corner a few yards away, the sidewalk was empty. Brynn clicked the alarm on her car and hurried to the stairwell of the three-story apartment complex. She had tried to convince her sister to move closer to her—even offered to help with the costs—but Kelsey had been dancing at the club down the street and said she was perfectly fine here.

Brynn suspected Kelsey’s reluctance had more to do with her fear of being under Brynn’s watchful eye than commuting convenience, but Brynn hadn’t pushed. Her sister was making baby steps in the right direction, and she didn’t want to scare her off by being overbearing.

Her feet ached by the time she reached the top floor. Strappy black pumps were not meant for hiking up three flights of stairs. The 3B label on her sister’s door was peeling off around the corners. She smoothed her fingers over it, but the ends curled back up again. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever state her sister was in, and knocked on the door.

No answer.

She knocked again, but got the same response. With a huff, she pulled out her cell phone and called her. It went straight to voice mail. Terrific. Kelsey had probably gotten over whatever crisis she had called her about and now had gone out.

Or.

Anxiety crawled up her spine. She’d had nightmares of getting that call in the middle of the night—the one that would say something had happened to her sister. She’d received a call like that about her mother three years ago, and she’d sworn to herself at the time that she would do all she could to make sure she never got that kind of call about Kelsey. Unfortunately, Kels hadn’t always been so cooperative in helping Brynn keep that promise.

Brynn sorted through the keys on her key chain and found the one for her sister’s apartment. If nothing was wrong, Kelsey would be pissed that she’d gone in without asking, but Brynn wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight if she didn’t make sure everything was okay. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer she wasn’t walking into a real-life version of one of her nightmares. But when she swung open the door, the only thing that greeted her was an empty apartment.

She hadn’t been to her sister’s place in over a month, but her mouth dropped open over the change. The last time, everything had been in disarray—empty cans and take-out boxes littering the counters in the tiny kitchen, dirty clothes piled on one side of the couch, and a layer of dust coating the few remaining surfaces. Now the only things that seemed out of place were a few cardboard boxes on the kitchen table. Everything else looked neat and freshly cleaned. Her sister had even draped bright afghan blankets over the shoddy brown couches, giving the room an almost cheery vibe.

“Kels,” she called out. “You here?”

Brynn stepped inside and closed the door behind her. When she received no answer, she made her way across the small living room and tapped on the slightly ajar bedroom door. “Kelsey?”

She opened the door a bit and peeked inside. The bed was unmade, and a shirt and pair of jeans were strewn across the flower-print comforter, as if her sister had stripped them off in a hurry. Her mirrored closet door was open, revealing more empty hangers inside than clothes. Hell, had Kelsey been serious about leaving town? She barely had enough money to make rent each month, how was she going to afford a road trip?

Uneasiness settled over her. After another failed phone call to her sister, she headed back to the front door. Maybe Kelsey had gone by the club where she worked. Or, at the very least, maybe someone there would know where she was. Brynn locked up behind her and made her way down the stairs, her brain swirling.

The stench of stale alcohol hit her too late. A sweaty hand clamped over her forearm as she stepped off the last stair. “Hey, sweetheart, where ya going so fast?”

Brynn sucked in a breath, her heart stuttering in her chest. “Let go of me.”

She tried to yank away from the man’s grip, but he dug his fingers in tighter. A smile edged his thin lips. He couldn’t have been older than his mid-twenties, but his face had the hardened look of a longtime drug user. “It’s okay, I wouldn’t hurt a pretty thing like you.”

Yeah right, and she was the queen of England. She jammed the pointy heel of her shoe into the top of his foot, putting every ounce of her strength behind it. “I said, let go, asshole.”

A slew of curses flew from his cracked lips, and his green eyes turned feral. Instead of releasing his grip like she’d hoped, he shoved her back into the darkened stairwell and slammed her against the wall, knocking the wind out of her. He leaned in close, his sour breath making her gag. “Well, I was just going to ask if you could spare a little cash, but now you’ve gone and pissed me off.”

She swallowed hard, trying to ward off the oncoming panic attack, but it was too late. She gasped for breath, her lungs’ capacity seeming to shrink in her chest. Sweat dampened her skin, and her head spun. She squeezed her eyes shut. Breathe, Brynn. Think.

The man’s hand grasped the strap of her dress and yanked, tearing the thin piece of material.

Her knees went weak beneath her. She tried to think of the self-defense moves she’d learned, but she couldn’t focus on anything except the fact that she was trapped. That this was happening again. She wouldn’t survive a second rape. Her mind had barely survived the first. Her words tumbled out at a frantic pace. “You can have my purse, I have cash in my wallet. Please don’t do this.”

“Should’ve thought of that before you broke my fucking toe,” he growled. His hand pulled harder on the torn strap, exposing her bra. She opened her mouth to scream, but he smacked her hard across the face, her ears ringing from the blow.

“Don’t even think about it, or I’ll make this much worse.”

The image of his face blurred as tears pricked her eyes. Then, it disappeared from view.

“What the—” the man started, but was interrupted by a sharp crunching sound.

Brynn swiped at her eyes to find the guy on the ground, holding his bloodied nose, six feet of suit-clad lawyer standing over him with rage on his face. The man jumped up and started swinging at Reid, landing a fist to his chin. He was much smaller than Reid, but Brynn knew drugs could make a person pretty powerful.

“Shit.” She pulled herself out of her shocked state and plunged her hand into her purse. Her fingers curled around the can of mace, and she ran toward the fray. The two men were punching and swinging at each other in a violent dance. She didn’t know how to help. The wild-eyed man noticed her standing there and lunged at her. She reacted without thought, emptying the can of mace in his general direction.

“Motherfucker,” he cried, grabbing at his eyes.

She almost smiled, but then heard a deep groan from Reid. “Son of a bitch!”

Brynn glanced at Reid and cringed when she saw he was also reaching for his eyes. The would-be rapist stumbled past her, out of the stairwell, and onto the street, apparently admitting defeat. She hurried to Reid’s side, her throat itching and eyes watering from the residual spray. “Oh, God, are you okay?”

His face was red and tears streamed out the corners of his closed lids. He opened his mouth to respond, but went into a coughing fit instead.

She wiped at his face and patted his back, not sure what to do. “I’m so sorry. I panicked. I didn’t mean to get you.”

“Where’d he go?” he asked between coughs.

She looked back to the street. “He ran—he’s gone. What can I do to help you?”

He moaned. “Water? Fire hose? Something to flush it out.”

“Right, okay.” She grasped his elbow. “Come on, I have a key to my sister’s apartment. Let me get you up there.”

Reid leaned his head sideways over the kitchen sink as Brynn poured another cup of cool water over his eyes. They still burned like the fires of hell, but at least his vision had returned and he could speak again. She brushed her hand over his ­forehead, pushing his hair out of the way. “Any better?”

“I think I’ll live,” he said, straightening. She handed him a clean dish towel, and he patted his face with it. “Next time aim for the bad guy, okay?”

“Which one was that, again?”

He shot her a withering look.

She gave a sheepish smile. “Kidding. I got him, too.”

“Good, I hope he stumbled into the street and got hit by a goddamned truck,” he said, his anger firing up again in his belly. Fucking bastard. The guy was lucky Brynn had sprayed her mace. Otherwise, Reid might not have been able to stop himself from beating the man into an early grave. The way Brynn had been shaking. Jesus. From wildcat to kitten with the flip of a switch. “We need to call the police. Report him.”

She rubbed her bare arms and nodded. “Yeah, although I’m sure he’s long gone by now.”

“He may have to go to the hospital for the nose. They could check for him there.”

She sank into one of the dining chairs, her cheek still scarlet from where the jerk had struck her. “What were you doing there anyway?”

He smirked and propped a hip against the kitchen counter. “Because a hotshot lawyer can take care of the bad guys in a pinch, so I followed you. I wasn’t going to let you come out here alone at night… looking like that.”

She glanced down at her dress. “Like what?”

His gaze traced the delicate line of her neck, the deep V-cut of her dress, and the swell of her breasts. His mouth watered at the memories of how that ivory skin tasted—like sugared strawberries. He cleared his throat and looked down at the now bloodied dishtowel clenched in his fist. “Never mind. It’s just not a place you should come to by yourself.”

“Hell,” she said, getting to her feet again, “I didn’t even notice your hand. You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine.”

She grabbed his biceps and guided him back to the sink. “Rinse it with soap and water. I’ll go and see if Kelsey keeps any first aid stuff around.”

She disappeared into the bathroom, and he turned on the faucet. The soap stung, but the cuts seemed minor, although his knuckles were already starting to swell. He shook his head. That’d be great for first impressions with clients on Monday. Yes, let me help you with your domestic violence case. Oh, yeah, don’t mind the black-and-blue knuckles. I’m really a good, responsible professional.