Crash Into You

Brynn emerged from the bathroom with a handful of Band-Aids and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. She pointed to the dining room table. “Sit.”

He dried his hands with a paper towel and fought a smile. She always had been a bossy little thing. But he knew the truth. Under­neath all that tight control was a woman who, at least when he’d known her, loved handing over the reins. He swallowed hard, tamping down memories he didn’t need to rehash at the moment.

He dropped into one of the chairs, and Brynn sat across from him, her knees bumping against his. He widened his legs, and after the briefest of hesitations, she scooted forward, allowing his thighs to frame the outsides of hers as she reached for his injured hand. She circled her fingers around his right wrist, his pulse jumping at her touch, and brought his hand up to her face to examine it. His fingers itched to reach out and trace the bow of her lips.

Dammit. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his desire to touch her in check, but the citrus scent of her shampoo drifted to his nose and sent a bolt of carnal need straight to his groin.

He stared down at her. One quick grasp of her waist and he could lift her to straddle his lap, bunch up that dress, and slide his cock right into her sweet heat—kiss away all the tension furrowing her brow, drive her to that place of wild abandon he knew she could reach.

Without thinking, he lifted his other hand and twined her broken dress strap between his fingers, brushing the backs of his sore knuckles across her collarbone in the process. The small catch of breath in the back of her throat made his balls tighten. Such a feminine sound, so close to the noise she would make as he entered her.

But she didn’t raise her eyes to him and beg him to take her like he secretly hoped she would. She simply took the slip of material from him and tucked it under her bra strap to hold it in place, sending her message loud and clear. Not yours.

Not anymore.

“This may hurt a little,” she said, her voice tighter than it had been. She laid his hand on the table, moved her chair back a notch, and dampened a cotton ball with disinfectant.

He winced when the cotton touched his open skin, the sting helping to drag his mind back from the depths. He shifted in his seat. “So where is your sister anyway? Isn’t she the whole reason you rushed out here?”

She glanced up, her green eyes glinting with worry before she dropped her focus back to her task. “She wasn’t here when I arrived, and I can’t get her on her phone.”

He frowned. “Is it standard MO for her?”

She shrugged, but the motion seemed tense instead of casual.

“Is she still…” He paused, not knowing how to phrase it politely.

Brynn smirked at him. “Fucked up?”

Looking at this refined blonde in her elegant outfit, he’d forgotten where Brynn had come from. She’d never been one to mince words. He nodded.

She rose and returned to the adjoining kitchen, turning her back to him as she opened the freezer. “After the murder, she

really took a turn for the worse, blamed herself. And she was still convinced the asshole you defended was innocent.”

The muscles in his neck bunched. Hank Caldwell was ­innocent—is innocent. Unfortunately, Reid had failed to prove that to the jury, which was the first in the trifecta of lost cases that had led to his demotion from lead attorney. Now Hank sat rotting away in prison with a life sentence, waiting for Reid to pull a miracle out of his ass for an appeal.

However, he knew better than to preach Hank’s innocence to Brynn and throw a match on that powder keg. The one time he’d approached her during the trial to see if he could interview Kelsey for the defense, Brynn had jumped his shit like he was the devil asking for her soul. She’d wanted him to drop the case entirely, but of course he couldn’t do that. Not when he knew in his gut that Hank wasn’t the guy.

The stark betrayal that had flashed in Brynn’s eyes that day had sliced right through him. He’d seen the switch flip—the look of total dismissal. You no longer exist to me. So if she had any clue he was actively working on Hank’s appeal now, she’d probably shove him out of Kelsey’s third-floor window.

Luckily, Brynn continued on without waiting for his input. “But the last few months, she’s been making some progress. I got her to go to a detox program and a few therapy sessions. And she’s been sober—at least she was the last couple of times I saw her. But tonight, she sounded a little freaked out, paranoid.”

He flexed his fingers, which were quickly stiffening. “Any idea where she could be?”

“Here, this will help with the swelling.” She handed him a plastic baggy full of ice. “I honestly have no clue. It’s not like her to ignore her phone. I was headed over to the club where she works to see if anyone knew anything when that asshole attacked me.”

“Speaking of which, we need to put in a call to the police.” He dug in his pocket, but she waved him off.

“I got it. I saw him up close and personal. I’ll be able to give a better description.” She walked into the tiny living room and pulled out her phone, putting as much distance between the two of them as possible.

Her voice didn’t waver as she relayed the information to the police, but she paced around the room, wearing a track into the already threadbare carpet. Occasionally, she would stop to peek through the blinds of the front window as if to will her sister to appear.

Reid stood and tossed the bag of ice onto the counter, Brynn’s nerves setting him on edge. Why would her sister drag her out here then bail without even calling her back? He eyed the boxes on the dining room table, then flicked a quick glance at Brynn to make sure she was sufficiently absorbed in the conversation. He hooked a finger into one of the boxes and slid it closer so he could peek at the contents.

Papers, envelopes, a small notebook—all shoved in there in no apparent order. He rifled through some of the papers, then picked up the notebook and flipped through a few pages. There were a couple of initials and random phone numbers, one of which was for Cowgirls, the strip club down the street. He set the notebook to the side and rifled through another stack of papers.

As he reached the bottom, he froze, a familiar company name catching his eye. Grant Waters, Inc. To the rest of Dallas—the wealthy vineyard owner and producer of Water’s Edge Wines. But to those in the know—someone completely different. The yellow paper was the carbon copy of a background check form Kelsey had filled out.

A sinking feeling settled in his stomach. Last he’d checked, Kelsey was no farmhand. He set the form aside and grabbed the notebook again, flipping back to the number for Cowgirls. Maybe the strip club would have some information. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed the number.

“Cowgirls, this is Nina,” a cigarette-roughened voice said over the blaring background music.

“Hey, is Kelsey performing tonight?” he asked.

“Oh, honey, Kiki isn’t here,” she said, smacking her gum loudly. “But if you like blondes with d-cups, Alexis is going on in about half an hour. She’ll get you going as well as Kiki could’ve.”

He sighed in mock disappointment, making sure the girl continued to believe he was a customer. “Is Kel—I mean, Kiki, on vacation or something?”

She laughed. “What is it with that girl? You’re, like, the third call I’ve gotten asking about her. I’m sorry, but she quit a few days ago. Said she got a better-paying gig.”

“Do you know where?”

“Ooh, you got it bad, huh? She didn’t say, but I know it’s not one of the clubs around here. I would’ve heard.”

“All right, Nina. Thanks for your help.”

“No problem, sweet thing.”

He clicked the phone shut and turned back toward the living room. Brynn was leaning on the back edge of the couch watching him, her lips pressed into a grim line. “She’s not there.”

He shook his head. “Quit a few days ago. The girl said Kelsey took another job.”

Brynn’s threw her hands out to her sides. “Why the hell wouldn’t she tell me she’d changed jobs?”

“I may have some idea,” Reid said, glancing at the background form again. “Do you know if Kelsey is into anything kinky?”

She glanced at the table, then back to him, a little crease between her brows. “Well, stripping isn’t exactly run-of-the-mill.”

He shook his head and met her confused gaze. “No, I mean, like the D/s scene.”

Her eyes shifted away and he could almost visualize porcupine quills popping out of her skin. “How the hell would I know that? ‘Do you let a guy use you like a whore?’ is not exactly a question that comes up in sisterly conversation.”

He cringed, the words wrenching his gut. “Is that what you think it was? You think I used you?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “What exactly would you call it, Reid? I bet you weren’t tying up and ordering around that debutante girlfriend of yours—you know, the one you forgot to tell me about.”

She was right. He hadn’t been topping Vanessa. She would’ve sent her father after him with a shotgun if he’d done so much as copped a feel. But he’d had to toe the line—parade around with the girl he was expected to date. He blew out a breath and raked a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t like that.”

“No, I get it. Do the depraved stuff with the chick whose mother is a hooker, do the respectable things with the girl you want everyone to see on your arm. It’s an old story,” she said, sounding tired. “I was just too naive to see what role I was playing in the game.”

His jaw clenched. “I don’t know how I ended up the bad guy in all this. I seem to recall I wasn’t the only one you were playing with.”

She sighed and all the fight seemed to leave her stance. “Look, it doesn’t matter, okay. What’s done is done. I just want to know what all this has to do with my sister.”

He stared at her for a moment, part of him wanting to hash out their past, drag everything out in the open, and deal with it head-on, but the lines of worry in her face stopped him. He crooked a thumb at the boxes. “I looked through some of your sister’s stuff. She filled out a background check form for Grant ­Waters’ ­company.”

Her forehead scrunched. “Who the hell is that?”

“He owns two big vineyards outside of town. And he runs The Ranch.”

“Is that another strip club?”

He shook his head, tension taking root in his shoulders. “No, and I’m not sure on the details. But what I do know is that it’s

a BDSM retreat. Elite, exclusive, and if someone wants to disappear for a while—a good place to hide.”

She chewed her lip, as if mulling over the information. “But if it’s so exclusive, how would Kels get in?”

He shrugged. “Your sister’s a beautiful girl who’s not afraid to show her body. My guess is that they probably hired her on as a server or attendant of some kind.”

She crossed the few steps to the counter and grabbed her purse and keys. “Well, then, what are we hanging around for? Let’s go to this stupid place and get her.”

“Brynn.” He grabbed her wrist before she reached the door.

She glanced back over her shoulder, urgency rolling off her. “What’s wrong?”

“I have no idea where this place is. And even if I did, you’re not going to be able to get in without an invitation… or a master.”

All the blood drained from her face. She glanced down at his fingers circling her wrist and jerked her arm free. “What? I can’t—”

“Look, calm down,” he said, frowning down at her. “We can’t do anything tonight, but I know someone who may have a connection there. Let me see if I can get any information—find out if your sister is even there. In the meantime, you can go home and call anyone you can think of—her friends, boyfriends, whoever. Someone has to know where she is.”

Brynn chewed her lip, considering him, then nodded. “Okay. I guess that’s the best we can do tonight.”

He walked her down to her car, keeping an eye on their surroundings to make sure her attacker hadn’t decided to hang around.

She pulled open her car door and slid in, looking up at him with tired eyes. “Thanks for your help. I take back the comment about you not being able to scare off bad guys.”

He smiled. “Thanks, and I don’t mind helping.”

She dug in her purse and pulled out a business card. “Here. My cell is on there. Call me if you find anything out.”

He took the card from her and slipped it into his pocket, then feigned a grimace. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I must’ve left my cell upstairs.”

She moved to climb out of the car. “Oh, well, I can go grab it for you.”

He held up a hand. “No, it’s late, and the sooner you’re out of this neighborhood, the better. Why don’t you just give me your sister’s key and you can leave? I’ll get the key back to you on Monday.”

She paused, evaluating him for a moment, then glanced down the darkened street. “Yeah, okay, but just make sure everything’s locked when you leave.”

She slid the key off her key chain and handed it over. Trusting him.

Guilt flooded him, but he charged forward with his plan anyway. “No worries. I’ll just run in and then lock back up. And

I promise I’ll touch base with you tomorrow if I can find anything out.”

“Thanks.” She pulled her seat belt across her chest. “Good night, Reid.”

“Drive safe, sugar.” He shut her door and waited on the curb, watching her taillights fade around the corner. As soon as he was sure she was far enough away, he jogged back up the stairs and let himself into Kelsey’s apartment, locking the door behind him.

Surveying the room, his eyes honed in on the boxes he hadn’t been able to explore while Brynn was there. The ones labeled Mom’s things. Thinking about what could be in those boxes had made his heart pick up speed. Last week when he’d visited Hank in jail, he’d told Reid that Kelsey had called him—said she may have found something that could help him get an appeal. Reid had planned to contact Kelsey to see what she had come across, but now…

He tapped down the guilt about being there uninvited and went into the kitchen to grab a pair of rubber gloves from under the sink. If he found anything of use, he didn’t want his fingerprints all over it. He hoped what he needed was in one of those boxes. But if it wasn’t, he wasn’t going to leave the apartment until he’d searched every inch of the place. If Kelsey had some key to getting Hank out of jail, he was going to do every damn thing possible to get his hands on it.

Even if that meant he’d have to hunt down Brynn’s sister ­himself.

FOUR

then

Mr. Jamison stepped out of his office with Reid not far behind. Brynn smiled as the older man stopped in front of her desk.

“Ms. LeBreck, it’s almost seven, what are you still doing slaving away?”

She held up a stack of envelopes. “I told Mr. Ackerman I would stay late tonight and stuff these.”

He leaned over her desk and looked at the piles of flyers on the floor. He shook his head. “You work late all the time. You’re too young to work that hard. Go home, my dear. Take a night off. I’ll make sure you get paid overtime for the evening.”

Reid broke into a wide grin behind his uncle.

Brynn smiled. “That’s really nice of you, but I don’t mind staying.”

He tapped his palm against the desk. “That’s an order, Ms. LeBreck. Get out of here. I’ll close up behind you.”

Well, she wasn’t going to argue with that. Mr. Jamison strolled off toward the copy room, and Reid replaced him at the front of her desk. She raised an eyebrow at him and pulled out her purse. “What’s with the shit-eating grin?”

“I have a date tonight.”

She choked back the bitter taste that stole across her tongue, knowing that she had no right to be upset. She and Reid had fallen into a comfortable friendship at work over the last few weeks—their playful banter the bright spot in her long days. But she’d never given him any indication she was interested in anything more or told him that when she finally lay in bed at night, that it was his face she pictured, his hands she imagined on her when she touched herself.

She couldn’t tell him. Their lives were so far apart from each other, they might as well belong to different species. She gave him a stiff smile. “Good for you.”

He laughed and held out his hand. “Come on, LeBreck. Let’s go.”

She stared at his open palm. “What are you talking about?”

He smirked. “I’m talking about a date—me, you, some food, all congregating in the same general area. You told me the day we met you didn’t have time for a burger. Now you’ve been given two hours you didn’t plan on having, so you owe me a date.”

She sighed and pushed her hair behind her ears. “Reid—”

He wagged his finger at her. “Nope, can’t turn me down. You don’t want to be responsible for crushing my fragile ego, do you?”

She snorted, but slipped her hand into his and let him help her to her feet. “Your ego is about as delicate as a freight train.”

He pulled her closer to his side and guided her toward the door. “It’s just a burger, Brynn.”

A few minutes later, Reid turned his truck into the drive-thru at the Burger Haven and ordered their meals. She shifted in her seat, the leather sticking to her bare legs. “I thought we were going to eat here.”

He pulled up to the window and paid for the food, then handed her the greasy paper bags. “The grub here is good, but the ambience leaves a lot to be desired.”

She snuck a fry from one of the bags and popped it in her mouth. “So where are you taking me, then?”

He waggled his eyebrows. “My evil lair.”

“No, seriously.”

He laughed. “And I thought I was a control freak. Relax. We’re not going far.”

Reid drove a few miles off the highway and parked next to a tree-lined pond, shutting off the engine right as the final edge of sun slipped beneath the horizon. Brynn peered out the window at the small park, its only occupant a lone goose wandering around one of the benches that lined the water’s banks.

“Looks like a real popular place,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt.

He chuckled. “It is during the day. People just don’t realize how cool it is at night.”

She looked out the window again. Obviously, coolness was in the eye of the beholder. “Yeah, I bet serial killers and drug dealers find it very appealing.”

That earned her a snort from him before he stepped out of the truck and came around to her side to open her door. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

She handed him the food and stepped down, the warm breeze lifting her hair off the back of her neck. He grabbed her hand, his fingers interlacing with hers. She couldn’t fight the smile that played around her lips. Reid was making an effort for this to feel like a date, which she appreciated. She’d been out with a few guys during high school, but usually the “dates” consisted of hanging out at each other’s houses and having awkward make-out sessions before their parents came home. Although, in her case, she always made sure she went to their place instead of bringing them to hers.

Reid placed the bags in the bed of the truck and unhitched the tailgate. “Hop up.”

She frowned. “Not the best day to wear a skirt.”

“Funny, I was thinking it was an excellent choice.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Come on, I’ll help you. I promise not to peek.” He put his hands on her waist and hoisted her up as if she weighed nothing. The wind caught the light material and sent her skirt fluttering upward, no doubt revealing her underwear in the process. She tamped it down with her hands, but not quickly enough. Reid grinned and put a foot on the tailgate, stepping up in one fluid motion.

She punched his thigh. “You are such a liar. You totally looked.”

“Hey,” he said, rubbing his leg and laughing. “It happened too fast. And they’re pink panties. It was like a tractor beam. How am I supposed to turn away from that?”

She groaned. “Guys are all the same.”

He unlocked the truck’s steel storage bin and pulled out a flannel blanket, smiling as he spread it out. “When it comes to the chance to see up a pretty girl’s skirt, you’re probably right. I’m sorry. Guess I shouldn’t have made a promise I couldn’t keep.” He took the burgers and fries out of the bags, uncapped the two bottles of soda, and then patted the spot next to him. “Still willing to eat with me?”

She should’ve been annoyed—the wicked glint in his eyes said his apology was less than authentic. But instead, his unrepentant playfulness only drew her to him more. Even with the effect he had on her hormones, something about him put her at ease—made the air around her feel lighter, the stress of the day not as daunting.

If she hadn’t been working with him, she would’ve assumed this was how Reid went through life—always cracking a joke, enjoying every moment, not a care in the world. But she hadn’t missed his switch in demeanor when his aunt and uncle were around. As soon as one of them walked through the office, it was as if Reid had a steel rod shoved up his back and all that easy confidence seemed to drain away.

Brynn wasn’t sure which version of Reid was the real one—the self-assured charmer or the wary political son. Maybe neither.

She scooted over to his side and unwrapped her sandwich. “So what’s so cool about this place?”

“Besides the fact that we’re here?” He sipped his drink and glanced at his watch. “You’ll see. Should start anytime now.”

They ate their burgers for a few minutes, the song of the cicadas and frogs providing the only chatter. She wanted to lean into him, to know what it would feel like for him to wrap his arms around her, to taste his kiss, but she glued her butt to the spot. This was just a burger. He’d said so himself. She needed to enjoy it for what it was. And even without him cuddled close, an unfamiliar feeling of contentment settled over her.

Every evening she either ate her meals on the run or in her room after she had cooked for her sister. Having someone to sit with was nice. She turned to Reid to tell him how much she appreciated him bringing her here, but a loud whooshing sound cut her off. “What in the world—”

“Here we go,” Reid said, and put a hand on her shoulder. “Lie back and look up.”

She set her sandwich down and lay next to him, her gaze going to the stars. The roaring grew louder, until it was almost deafening. She winced, but just when she thought her ears couldn’t take any more, the inky sky disappeared and the silver underbelly of a plane replaced it. The massive aircraft seemed as if it was going to land on top of the truck, but instead zoomed past them and touched down on a runway hidden behind the trees. The leaves around them shook and warm air gusted over her in the jet’s wake.

She turned to Reid. “Wow.”

He grinned, his face inches from hers. “Awesome, huh?”

She laughed. “Scared the hell out of me at first, but yeah, definitely. I had no idea you could get this close.”

His gaze scanned her face, pausing on her lips, tracking down her neck, then back up. “Yeah, the view’s pretty amazing this close up.”

Her body warmed under his stare, her heartbeat picking up tempo. She turned back toward the sky, hoping her voice would come out steady. “So can the people in the plane see us down here?”

“No, I don’t think so. Not at night. I’ve landed on this runway during the day and all you can see of the park is the pond and trees.”

“Must be pretty neat to see it from that perspective. I’ve never been on a plane,” she said, an unexpected wistfulness tingeing her tone.

He shifted onto his side, propping himself up with his elbow and looking down at her. “More of a road-trip girl?”

She shrugged. “I don’t exactly have room in my life for va­cations.”

His eyes searched hers. “No time for trips, no time for dates, what’s got you so busy, Brynn LeBreck? You’re not secretly working undercover for the FBI or something, right?”