His to Protect: A Brook Brothers Novel Read online

  His to Protect

  A Brook Brothers Novel

  Tracie Delaney

  Contents

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  Books by Tracie Delaney

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  FROM MY HEART

  Books by Tracie Delaney

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  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2019 Tracie Delaney

  Content Editing by Emmy Ellis - Studioenp

  Line Editing by Delphine Noble-Fox

  Cover art by Tiffany @TEBlack Designs

  Cover Photographer - Wander Aguiar

  (Facebook) Wander Book Club

  Cover Model - Forest Harrison

  (Facebook) Model-Forest

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in uniform or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  To all the strong, beautiful women out there who show immense courage in the face of terrible adversity….

  You. Are. My. Heroes.

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  Books by Tracie Delaney

  The Winning Ace Series

  Winning Ace

  Losing Game

  Grand Slam

  Winning Ace Boxset

  Mismatch

  Break Point - A Winning Ace Novella

  Stand-alone

  My Gift To You

  The Brook Brothers Series

  The Blame Game

  Against All Odds

  His To Protect

  Web of Lies

  Chapter 1

  Fire scorched Cole Brook’s lungs, and his jaw hung open in an imbecilic fashion, but as much as he must look like a total idiot to anyone bothering to pay attention, the damned thing wouldn’t close. He couldn’t stop staring through the greasy, fingerprint-smeared window at her. Millie Frayser. The girl—now woman—who’d been one of his closest friends at school, and who’d rejected him not once, but twice.

  Except that wasn’t fair. Millie hadn’t been aware of his secret obsession with her. Instead, she’d been mesmerized by his brother’s charisma. When it came to thrills and excitement, Calum’s domineering personality was impossible to resist. To Millie, Cole had simply been her buddy. The nice one. The invisible man who’d been relegated to live in the shadow of his utterly captivating sibling whose brooding yet charming temperament had demanded the spotlight.

  Calum had drawn Millie in, like a moth to the proverbial flame, then tossed her aside with astonishing speed.

  Cole had given her a comforting shoulder to cry on like the good buddy he was. She’d blurted it all out, and he’d bitten his tongue and listened to her sobs and her questioning of where it had all gone wrong.

  Cole’s stomach twisted at the memory. He adored Calum, idolized him even, but there were times when he hated his guts. The day he’d so harshly broken off his fledgling relationship with Millie, refusing to offer any explanation, had been one of those occasions.

  Millie had rebounded, hard. Except instead of rebounding into his arms, Tanner Bailey—captain of the football team, arrogant jock, and total dick—had seized his chance and picked her off so easily. Within a week of their high-school graduation—which also happened to be the day she’d turned eighteen—Tanner had put a ring on her finger. They’d moved to Chicago, and Cole hadn’t seen her since.

  And now, here she was. Back in New York. So many years had passed since he’d last laid eyes on her—and yet, as he stood there gaping, time folded in on itself. It felt like only yesterday when he’d watched her get married. She’d unwittingly stolen a piece of his soul that day, leaving behind a wound other women hadn’t been able to heal.

  Sure, he’d had girlfriends. He hadn’t exactly lived like a monk this past decade. But none of them had touched him in that hidden place reserved for The One—the place Millie owned.

  Cole jerked out of the past as long-buried childhood resentments threatened to hurtle to the surface. Sweat dampened his palms. He peered through the window once more. She’d barely changed from all those years ago, save for the crinkles around her eyes. Shoulder-length, coffee-colored hair, oval face, a dimple on her left cheek. Hypnotic mocha eyes, although he couldn’t see them right then because she was staring into her coffee. Cole had spent a good proportion of his youth craving for her to turn those eyes on him with the same hunger she had with Calum.

  A pang in his chest he’d long since forgotten returned. She was even more beautiful now, the innocence of youth replaced with an intoxicating maturity. No one else came close to making him feel such a profound ache as the woman on the other side of the glass. Her light had shone so brightly she’d dazzled him.

  She could have been his. Should have been his. Why hadn’t he told her how he felt? Why hadn’t he fought for her, staked his claim? Given her a chance to notice him—the real man behind the façade he showed the world, rather than simply Calum’s shadow?

  Because you’re a dick who’ll do anything to avoid conflict.

  Bullshit. Not true. He wasn’t afraid of conflict, although he preferred to seek solutions, mediate, search for common ground.

  It was no surprise he became a cop. Resolving hostilities, displaying tact and diplomacy? He had all those attributes in abundance. Protecting those he loved? Fucking Zen master.

  Fighting for something he wanted more than life itself? Yeah, he sucked ass.

  Draven, his partner in the NYPD, an all-round bearded, tattooed badass, appeared at his shoulder.

  “Feet glued to the sidewalk, dickhead?”

  Cole looked at Draven. “It’s her,” he said, nodding toward Millie who still hadn’t noticed the two cops gawking at her through the window. She was too fixated on her coffee cup, as if it had the answers to every question she’d ever asked. “The one I let get away. I haven’t seen
her since high school.”

  Draven glanced between Cole and Millie, and then his gaze settled on Cole, a deep frown drawing his brows low.

  “Are you high?”

  Cole grinned. “When it comes to her, I’ve been stoned my entire life.”

  Draven pointed his chin toward Millie. “So go talk to her. I’ll sign you out.”

  Cole hesitated. Did he really want to tear open a wound that had never quite healed? He could walk away right this second, try to make himself forget he’d seen her, carry on with his life.

  Except apart from his work, he didn’t have a life. He had an existence.

  “I should come back with you,” he muttered.

  Draven rolled his eyes. “Your shift’s over. Go get some, before your cock shrivels up and dies.”

  “Fuck you,” Cole said to Draven’s retreating back, and then he laughed to cover up the nerves swarming through his body. His legs shook, his mouth dry as a cracker. What would he find to say to her after all this time?

  He heaved in a breath and then lightly tapped on the window. Except it was more of a thump than a tap. For fuck’s sake! Her unexpected appearance had thrown him so much, he couldn’t even knock on a fucking window right.

  Millie jumped, her eyes darting in his direction. She paled and knocked over her coffee. Grabbing a handful of napkins, she mopped up the spillage with short, jerky movements. Her gaze returned to him, and she openly stared, her lashes brushing her cheeks as she rapidly blinked.

  Oh shit. She probably didn’t recognize him. No wonder she’d spilled her drink with a burly cop banging like hell on the window. He took a step back, half turning away before he made even more of a dick of himself.

  When a flicker of recognition crossed her face, he made a decision—too late to back out now. He pushed open the door to the coffee shop, simultaneously dreading a put-down while relishing the chance to spend time with her, to bathe in the warmth of her gaze.

  A couple of diners glanced over at the tall, broad-shouldered cop filling the doorway, then returned to their food. He removed his peaked cap and stuck it under his arm. Scuffing a hand over the top of his head, he made his way over to Millie’s table and smiled.

  “Millie, hey. It’s me. Cole Brook. We, um, we went to high school together.”

  He inwardly groaned. He sounded like a complete jerk.

  Millie scooched to the end of the bench, stumbling when she got to her feet. He put out his arm to steady her, but she’d already righted herself.

  “Cole, of course I remember.”

  They hugged awkwardly, and he breathed her in. She smelled amazing. Even after all these years, the scent of her shampoo—vanilla—triggered a memory bubbling beneath the surface, only to burst free, bringing with it joy mingled with resentment that she’d never been his. But Christ she was thin. She’d been on the petite side in high school, but he could actually feel her bones sticking through her sweater.

  “You haven’t changed a bit,” she said.

  Still the invisible man, huh?

  He brushed aside the uncharitable thought and smiled. “Sorry to scare you by thumping on the window like that. What are you doing in New York?”

  She averted her gaze, slid back into her seat, and then began to fiddle with her watch strap. “Let me get you a coffee. Do you have the time?” She glanced around looking for the server, made a haphazard attempt to attract her attention by waving her hand in the air, then let her arm fall back to her side when the waitress served another customer. “Mustn’t have seen me,” she muttered, more to herself than to him.

  “Coffee would be good.” Cole slipped onto the bench opposite. He caught the server’s eye and gestured. “Can I get two coffees over here?”

  She acknowledged his request and went to fetch the pot.

  “You must have the Midas touch,” Millie said with a glimmer of a smile. And then her head dropped, and she picked at a tiny scratch in the table.

  The hairs on the back of Cole’s neck stood on end. Something didn’t sit right. The Millie he remembered had been confident, energetic, life and soul of the party. The woman sitting opposite was gauche, awkward, almost timid.

  She lifted her chin in his direction. “You always did want to join the NYPD.”

  A brief thrill rushed through him that she’d remembered his childhood dream. “Yeah. Almost ten years and counting now.”

  “Do you like it?”

  He nodded. “Best job in the world.”

  “No ambitions to be Chief of Police?”

  He chuckled. “Not one. Being on the street is where it’s at. That’s where you can make a real difference in this job. I’d go crazy sitting behind a desk all day having to manage budgets and crawl up the asses of politicians.”

  “Well, you certainly cut a dashing figure in that uniform,” she said, following up with a shrill laugh.

  He schooled his expression to hide his surprise at the compliment, not to mention her choice of words. Dashing? Nope. The Millie he knew wouldn’t have used such flowery language. What the fuck was going on? He thought about probing, but just as quickly, he dismissed the thought. She was acting so out of character, all nervous and jittery. Being grilled by a cop—albeit one she’d gone to high school with—might send her into meltdown. Or have her scrambling from her seat and vanishing into the Manhattan crowds.

  The waitress saved him from responding by arriving with their coffees. Cole added cream and one sugar. He stirred and then set the spoon on the table. Picking up his cup, he blew across the top of the drink, and then took a sip.

  “Are you back for good or just visiting?” he asked.

  “For good, I think.”

  A grin inched across his face. And then he remembered she wasn’t free to chase, and the grin faded. “How’s Tanner?”

  She blanched, her eyes downcast. Her fingers closed around her coffee cup, and she tapped her nails against the side. Her hair fell in a veil, covering the right-hand side of her face. With a jerky hand, she tucked it behind her ear. “I don’t know,” she said with a shrug, adding, “We split up a few days ago.”

  “Oh?” Yeah, he was fishing, but something about her anxious expression when she spoke about Tanner had Cole worried. He arranged his face into one of sympathy, but not pity. In his experience, most people didn’t react well to pity.

  She lifted her eyes to his, two deep pools of warm chocolate that had him leaning forward in his seat like she was gravity pulling him in. Yet behind the eyes that had invaded his dreams since he was a young man lay pain and suffering. Whatever had transpired in her life, the last ten years had changed her from the girl he knew to the troubled woman now before him.

  “I’ve left him,” she stated, accompanying her words with a glance out the window.

  “I’m sorry,” Cole said. A blatant lie. He hated that she’d married Tanner. He’d never been the right man for her—and nor had Cole’s twin—because, dammit, Cole was the right man.

  “I’m not.” Her face took on a faraway expression. Then the shutters came down, making her hard to read.

  “Is he still in Chicago?”

  She nodded. “At least I hope so.” She chewed on her lip, and her eyes briefly closed. “He doesn’t know I’m here, and I’d prefer to keep it that way for as long as possible.”

  Cole studied her, his earlier disquiet raging inside his head. Something was very wrong.

  “He won’t hear it from me. We weren’t even friends. I haven’t seen him since he left New York with you on his arm right after you turned eighteen.”

  A look of surprise crossed her face. “You remembered?”

  I remember everything.

  He gave her a faint smile. “I guess.”

  “What about you? Married? Kids?”

  The abrupt change of subject was telling. Deflect attention, block others from digging too deeply, turn the conversation around to them. Most people loved to talk about themselves and would barely notice they’d been manipulated. Not him. He
recognized the signs because he used the same tactics. He’d cede control to her—for now. Give her space, because the vibes pouring out of her said she needed it, badly.

  “Neither.”

  “Oh.” She tucked her hair behind her right ear and then immediately freed it, a habit she’d always had—and he’d always adored. “I thought some lucky girl would have snapped you up by now.”

  She already did. Except she doesn’t know it.

  “Married to the job, I think.”

  “Yeah, I hear that about cops. They’re supposed to make terrible husbands.”

  Her answering smile was tight. What he wouldn’t give for a full-on beaming grin, or one of her throaty laughs he remembered so fondly.

  “Oh, I don’t know, some make it work. I guess it depends on finding the right woman who understands the demands of being married to a police officer.”

  She nodded in agreement. “So, how’s Calum? Still breaking hearts?”

  Did her voice lift at the mention of his twin? His chest burned with jealousy. Still, still Calum was on her mind. Ten fucking years, and his brother featured center stage, whereas he got banal conversation. Fuck if he’d let his annoyance show, despite the painful lump in his stomach.

  “He’s off the market,” Cole said, watching her response carefully. “Her name’s Laurella, and she’s awesome. Exactly the kind of girl he needs. Very good at putting him in his place.”