Better When He's Brave, Page 2

  The young cop asked me my name and when I muttered “Reeve Black” I saw the way his eyes went from appreciating the fall of my long black hair and the way my T-shirt hung against curves that were more dangerous than he would ever know, to speculative and almost disgusted. I had a reputation and it wasn’t a good one. Even in this place full of bad people doing bad things, there was still room for the worst of the worst. I was the worst and I never pretended to be anything else.

  The cop picked up the phone and spoke softly. I heard him say my name more than once and then shake his head. I really, really wasn’t supposed to be here, and I knew Titus was going to be anything but happy to see me. He didn’t need to be happy, he just needed to hear what I had to say and agree to help me help him.

  I pushed some of my hair back behind my ear and willed my hands to stop quivering. This wasn’t a time to betray weakness. I wasn’t afraid of him. I was afraid for him.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw a door that had his name and title scrawled across it in peeling black vinyl letters swing open. I felt my heart quiver a little bit, felt my tummy pull tight as his dark head poked out of the opening. Even across the distance and through all the barriers keeping us apart, I could feel the impact of his outrageously blue eyes and the fury captured inside them as they landed on me.

  Yep . . . not happy to see me at all.

  He stormed out of the office, eyes locked on me as he made his way to where I was standing, separated from the rest of the police precinct and the officers milling about, some in uniform some out. Titus never wore police blues. At least he hadn’t any of the times I had seen him. No, Titus dressed like a man that had a job to do and that the job was wearing him down and slowly and surely eating away at his soul.

  As he stalked toward me I could see the way the knot in his tie hung loose at his throat. I could see the way his rolled-up sleeves tightened on his forearms as his hands clenched into angry fists at the sight of me. I could see the way his dark slacks had wrinkled from whatever bad thing or bad guy he had spent the day trying to set right. When he finally reached me I couldn’t stop staring at him. I ended my perusal at the tips of his worn and scuffed-up black boots as he stopped so that he could loom over me. There would never be polished wing tips for a man like Titus King. There would never be pristine tennis shoes used for recreational sports. Nope, Titus would always be a man that needed shoes that could get the job done and handle the muck and mire that he had to wade through every waking hour while he tried to keep some kind of order.

  I gulped and fought to keep myself from falling back a step. Titus was a big man and really tall, so it was easy to want to cower under his burning glare, but if I did that I would show him how scared I was and I couldn’t afford to start this conversation out that way.

  Instead I batted my eyelashes slowly, let out a deep breath that I knew would force him to have to watch the rise and fall of my chest, and kicked the side of my very carefully painted mouth up in a grin that had made more than one man do anything I ever asked of them.

  “Detective King.” I liked his name even with that title in front of it. He could be the ruler of some ancient barbaric land where only the strong survived.

  “What in the fuck?” It was a question and a statement shouted loud enough to draw the attention of both the police and the criminals wandering around the building.

  An ironlike hold clamped on my elbow and I was unceremoniously dragged past all the bars and barriers, past the other cops sitting at their desks, past a captivated audience that couldn’t help but speculate what kind of bug had gotten up the big detective’s ass. Titus was not a man prone to big displays of extreme emotion. He was much more a man of action, so the glower on his harshly handsome face and the force with which he maneuvered me around his coworkers and the riffraff that littered the police station did not go unnoticed. He was beyond pissed at my sudden appearance and doing nothing to hide it.

  When we were back at his office he shoved me inside like I was one of his perps and slammed the door behind us with far more force than necessary. I knew the Point was on the verge of burning, but nothing would ever be as hot or as out of control as the wild fury I saw sparking in the depths of Titus’s sky-colored eyes. He was pissed like I knew he was going to be, but more than that he was concerned, and I think that made him even angrier. No one wanted to worry about a girl like me. I was supposed to get whatever nasty shit landed at my doorstep. I deserved it. That was how karma was supposed to work, but Titus was hardwired to care, even if the other person didn’t earn it or necessarily want it, and that had to make him crazy.

  I studied him for a long minute, eyes locked on a muscle that twitched in his rock-hard jawline. He was so beautiful. I had thought so the first second I laid eyes on him when I initially went to him to pour out my heart and seek some kind of redemption. He was everything a man should be. Everything a warrior needed to be to make it in this wasteland, fighting for things that had long been lost. Sometimes it felt like I was torn between lust and worship where he was concerned.

  He was built like an impenetrable bastion. So tall and wide it seemed like nothing would ever be able to break its way inside of him. His body was hard—from the expression on his face to the muscles that flexed and coiled when he did something as simple as lean back on the edge of his desk. His hair was cropped short on the sides and left longer on top; it was almost the same inky black as my own, but at his temple on one side was a startling and shocking snow-white spot. It was a constant reminder of the night the new me had been born and he had watched his younger brother put a gun to his own head and threaten to end it all. Titus also had raven-dark brows and a sexy, dark scruff that slashed across a tawny complexion that had nothing to do with being in the sun.

  His eyes were blue, a pretty light blue that should’ve softened the hardness of his masculine face, but there was something in them, something cold and hard, that made them glitter and shine like a honed weapon, so sharp that they hurt to look at for too long. That beautiful gaze encased by lashes that were too long and feathery for such a hard and unyielding face could do all kinds of damage on its own without the dangerous threat of that strong body behind it. Titus was not a man that anyone would be foolish enough to take lightly, and everything about the way he looked transmitted the fact loud and clear.

  He crossed his arms over his wide chest and I watched shamelessly as the muscles bulged. I shouldn’t be here, but while I was, I was going to admire the view.

  “Long time no see, Detective.”

  His scowl got even deeper and I saw the tick in his jaw move to a throbbing vein in his neck.

  “We were never supposed to see each other again, Reeve. That’s what Witness Protection is all about. You’re supposed to be the federal marshal’s problem now.”

  I shifted my weight from foot to foot and nodded my head slowly. “I know, but something came up, and I think you need to know about it.”

  He swore under his breath and lifted his hands up to scrub them over the longer locks of hair that stood up straight on the top of his head. The wild hair and the look on his face almost made him appear feral. There was wildness in the man and I wondered if he even realized it.

  “Look, Reeve.” He pushed off the desk and reached out a hand to put it on my shoulder. “You need to get in touch with the marshal in charge of your case. There’s been a leak. One of the witnesses that was picked up in the investigation into Novak and his crew was murdered last night. He had just flipped and the fed only had him in WITSEC for two months. Everyone on the case could be compromised, so you being here, back in the city, is a stupid move and far too risky.”

  I sighed a little bit and moved around his massive frame so I could sit in one of the rickety chairs that lived across from his battered and cluttered desk. I rubbed my sweaty palms along the denim of my jeans and lifted my chin up, hoping he didn’t see the way it wanted to quiver.

  “Hartman. Hartman was murdered last night.”

>   Murder was such an ugly word. Heavy and unpleasant whenever spoken aloud or even thought. The word was made up of pointy, sharp things that dug into my skin and made my breathing labored. It had the power to hurt, the power to change everything, and it had been haunting me, hanging around my neck like a stone locket for years and years.

  Titus went tense, far tenser than he already was, and his mouth flattened into a brutal line.

  “What?”

  I had to look away. He was trying to spear me open with that glacial blue gaze and I didn’t want him anywhere near the squishy, soft center of the real me.

  “I know Hartman was murdered last night and that’s why I’m here. I left WITSEC because I know who did it.”

  The line of his mouth went from a flat line to a fierce frown that would have made a smarter woman get to her feet and leave. He moved so that he was hovering over me and dipped his head down so that I had no choice but to look directly into his probing gaze.

  “What are you talking about, Reeve? Make it good because I’m about two seconds away from throwing you in lockup and ordering a Breathalyzer and a tox screen.”

  I wasn’t drunk and I had never touched an illegal drug in my life. I rolled my eyes and moved the slippery fall of my hair over my shoulder. He tracked the move with narrowed eyes and finally took a step back. I breathed a silent sound of relief.

  I could take a lot, but Titus might just be too much for me to handle. There was just so much of him to take in.

  “I know about Hartman . . . come on, Detective, look at me.” I waited until his eyes met mine. “I wouldn’t give up a cushy spot in WITSEC and a perfectly manicured lawn in the suburbs, where people think my name is Jill Parker and where I have a job cutting hair for soccer moms at a strip mall, unless I had a reason to do it. I was safe, Titus. All I’ve ever wanted since the minute I handed over my soul to Novak was to be safe. I never in a million years would walk away from that . . . but here I am. The war for this city has just started and I know the traitor that fired the opening shots. You need me.”

  He considered me for a long moment, the tension so thick it was taking up all the air in the tiny room. He didn’t want to believe me, didn’t want me to be here or to know what was going on and how it was tied to me, but there was no getting around the facts. I was telling the truth. He had the body and the blood to prove it. He fell back to lean against the desk and his thick eyebrows slammed down over his eyes in a scowl.

  “Tell me what you know and then I’ll decide if I need you or not.”

  He was gruff. He was rude. He was unflinching. I couldn’t blame him for any of that. The Point was under attack and the innocent and not so innocent were becoming casualties. If there was one thing a man like Titus didn’t like, it was casualties.

  It was a long story, one he only knew the beginning of, and there were parts I didn’t want to tell him. Parts like the conclusion, where I had fallen for the traitor. I didn’t want to admit that I had been taken in by the general who fired the opening salvo in this battle mostly because on the surface that general reminded me so much of the imposing man in front of me right now.

  Conner Roark had swooped in and offered me the one thing I had craved for longer than I could remember. Security. Safety. A shot at a life where words like murder didn’t have to dangle suffocatingly around my neck. All of that had been the cake and my sweet tooth started to ache, but the icing, the sugar fix that sent me into a full-on rush towards madness, was the fact that he was also tall, broad, had wavy dark hair, dreamy midnight eyes, and spoke with the softest Irish lilt I had ever heard. I couldn’t sign up for all of that fast enough and because it was attached to a man with a badge, a man that promised to uphold the law and do right because he had belief and conviction, I couldn’t tie my stupid heart up in a bow and give it away fast enough. Not that it was a gift many wanted.

  Only Conner Roark was nothing like Titus King. No man was and I was a fool for ever thinking otherwise.

  “The marshal that put me in WITSEC . . .” I had to look away. It was hard to admit how easily I had fallen for a cheap imitation of what I would never be able to have. The worst didn’t get the best and Titus was definitely the best man I had ever met. “Conner Roark. He’s as dirty as they come. He sent a man after Hartman once he was out of jail and in a safe house. He wanted Race Hartman to know that taking over where Novak left off is a bad idea.”

  Titus didn’t say anything for a long time. He silently watched me and I could see him turning the words over in his head. “Why? Why does Roark care who takes over the Point? What’s it to him and why is it worth destroying his career with the marshals?”

  I crossed one leg over the other and tapped my fingers on my knee, pretending to be far more composed than the swirling, uncertain mess I actually was on the inside.

  “That I don’t have an answer to. He hates the city. He hates the people that live here to a degree that borders on fanatical. I can’t tell you why he did it. I can only tell you that he did.” I bit down on my lip a little watching Titus try to fit the pieces together.

  I finally cracked. My bottom lip trembled and I felt emotion start to claw and scratch its way up my throat. He couldn’t decide if he was going to believe me or not, and that hurt. Titus put his hands on his hips and threw his head back so that he was looking up at the ceiling.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me with this.”

  I slowly shook my head and sank my teeth into my lip. “I wish.”

  He sighed heavily and suddenly bent forward and put his hands on his thighs like someone had hit him in the gut.

  “How exactly do you know all of this, Reeve? Why would a dirty federal marshal let a woman under his protection in on his plan and his crime? Why wouldn’t he simply take Hartman out and go about his business? Why does he trust you enough to let you know what he’s up to?”

  I heard it, the disappointment in his tone, the knowledge that things were worse than he could imagine and more dirty law enforcement was involved. I was right at the center of this particular shit show and he knew that meant I was right. He needed me.

  “Why do dangerous and desperate men do anything they do, Detective?”

  “Because of love,” he said emotionlessly and flat.

  I nodded solemnly. “I started seeing Conner almost as soon as he whisked me away from here. After everything that happened with Dovie, I felt awful. I never wanted her to get hurt, but I had to do what I did because of the deal I made with Novak. Conner made me feel loved despite the fact that I betrayed my friend, despite the fact that I’m a horrible person. And he made me feel safe.” I really wanted you, but I knew there wasn’t a chance in hell of that ever happening, so I settled on what I thought was the next best thing . . . That part went unsaid, but I knew it was probably there, leaking out of my eyes as we looked at each other.

  “This whole story is goddamn unbelievable.”

  Tell me about it. Even when I thought I was doing something good, it turned out to be just the opposite.

  “I can help you bring Conner down, Titus. That’s why I left WITSEC. That’s why I’m here. I hate the Point. I hate the person I am because of this place, but I owe it to you, and to the people that will never leave here, to do what I can to stop him from doing any more damage. The good guys deserve a win for once.” He deserved a win.

  “How exactly do you think you can help me? All I have right now is your word that Roark is a dirty fed who broke protocol by getting involved with a witness. That can easily boil down to your word against his, and no one likes a scorned lover out for revenge.”

  I was anticipating that, so picked up my purse and fished around until I found the cell phone I had stolen from Conner the last time he was at my safe house in the burbs. It had only been a day ago but it felt like a lifetime had passed. I handed it over wordlessly and got to my feet. A little zing of electricity zipped down my arm as my fingers brushed lightly across his rough palm.

  “This is Conner’s phone
. Look it over and get back to me. I’m in this now, Detective.”

  He swore again as I reached out to pull open the door. I looked over my shoulder as he said my name in a much softer voice than he had used up to now.

  He was turning the phone over and over between his fingers and looking at me like he was trying to see inside of my head. He didn’t really want inside of there; it was a crowded and convoluted place, and I think he would be shocked to see how much real estate he was already taking up.

  “You say you don’t know why Conner is doing what he’s doing, if in fact he is involved, but why are you?”

  That answer was looking at me with a mixture of hunger and hate so strong that it very nearly brought me to my knees.

  “Because it’s the right thing to do and along the way I forgot what that looked like. I don’t want to be that person anymore. I can’t be her.”

  I stepped out of the door and almost plowed over the young woman who I had nearly killed with my foolish and selfish actions not long ago.

  Dovie Pryce was a sweetheart. There wasn’t anything about her that wasn’t wholesome and pure. The way her green eyes widened at the sight of me and the way she went even paler under her milky complexion when our eyes met made me feel like the lowest life-form that had ever lived.

  “What are you doing here, Reeve?” Her voice was full of worry, which made me feel even worse. She should hate me, loathe me, and yet she was concerned for my well-being. She was too good for me to ever call a friend. She was too good for this godforsaken town.

  I tucked some of my hair behind my ear and gave her a lopsided grin. “I just had a little business to take care of with Titus. WITSEC isn’t really working out for me.” I wanted to grab her in a hug and tell her I was sorry her asshole of a father had been executed by my equally demented and fucked-up boyfriend, but I figured Titus would do a better job at it than me. Plus Dovie loved him and was in love with the detective’s hellion of a half brother, Shane Baxter. News like that should come from family.