His to Protect: A Brook Brothers Novel Read online

  She blinked rapidly, her eyes widening in surprise at his curt response. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

  Fuck. Way to go, dickhead. Say something to make her feel comfortable and do it quick.

  He lightened his tone. “Jax runs a hotel now, right here in Manhattan. He opened it last New Year. It’s doing great. You should stop by for a drink sometime.”

  “A hotel? Wow, that’s terrific.”

  “Yeah.” He flashed her a grin to take away the sting of his earlier words. When her face softened, he breathed a sigh of relief. “We’re all shareholders, but he and his girlfriend, Indie, do most of the work, along with the staff, of course.”

  “And Nate? What’s he up to these days? He was always such a sweet kid.”

  Cole rolled his eyes. “And then he grew up. He lives out in California. He’s an actor. Doing pretty good, too. We don’t get to see very much of him.”

  Her lips pulled to the side. “That’s a shame. Then again, he always struck me as very different to the rest of you. A real independent kid. I’m not surprised he’s flown the nest.”

  Cole nodded. “Me either. Nate’s his own man. Jax is gutted, though. He tried so hard to keep us all together when Mom and Dad died. It still hurts Jax that Nate got as far away from New York as he could without leaving the country.”

  A brief frown drew her eyebrows low. “Yes, I remember that about Jax. Family first.”

  Cole nodded. “Always.”

  An awkward silence fell between them. Millie removed some money from her purse. She dropped it on the table. “It’s been lovely to catch up with you, Cole, and I’d love to stay and chat, but I have an appointment to view an apartment early tomorrow morning, so I need to get some sleep. I just hope it works out. My savings won’t last long if I have to stay in a hotel much longer, especially without a job.”

  Cole pushed the ten-dollar bill back across the table and replaced it with a bill of his own. “This one’s on me.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” she said, although she did give him an oddly grateful look. “But thank you.”

  She shuffled along the bench and stood. A surge of panic hit him. He couldn’t allow her to simply walk out of there without convincing her to meet with him again.

  He hastily got to his feet. “How about dinner tomorrow night? Again, on me.”

  She gnawed on her bottom lip, frowning. “I’m not sure…”

  “It’s only dinner. I’ve lost touch with most people from high school. It’d be fun to reminisce about old times.”

  She plucked a stray hair from the corner of her mouth. “I’d love to, but I need to channel all my energies into finding a job. I appreciate the offer, though.”

  Dejected, he half turned away, and then an idea came to him. It might cause problems with Calum—big-ass problems—but he’d find a way to calm the situation. He always did, right? All he was doing was helping a friend in need.

  Keep lying to yourself, dickhead.

  “I might be able to help you with the job situation.”

  A dash of hope lit up her face. “Really?”

  “Yeah. I can tell you all about it over dinner. You have to eat, so you may as well eat with me.”

  She nibbled on her fingernail. “I get the feeling you’re not going to take no for an answer.”

  He winked. “You know it.”

  She faltered, then gave him a shy smile. “Okay. Dinner it is.”

  Buzzed with energy at winning her over, he beamed. “Great. Seven okay? I’ll pick you up.”

  She nodded, reached for a napkin, and scribbled down an address. She handed it to him. “That’s where I’m staying.”

  Glancing down, Cole repressed a wince. The place was an absolute shithole—frequented by hookers, pimps, and petty criminals looking to hide out until the heat died down. God only knew what the apartment she was viewing would be like if this was her temporary accommodation. He made up his mind there and then. She didn’t need to search for a job, because he’d found her one—as The Miller-Brook’s new front desk clerk.

  Realizing he hadn’t spoken, he looked up. “I’ll be there. Good luck with the apartment.”

  If I have my way, you won’t be there too long.

  With a tentative smile and jerky nod in his direction, she picked up her purse, slung it over her shoulder, and left. She passed the window of the coffee shop and waved, then disappeared into the crowds.

  Cole stared down at her neat, precise handwriting. He opened his wallet and tucked the napkin inside.

  Millie had been hesitant, but at least she’d agreed to dinner. He was determined it would be the first of many. He stuck the money underneath the salt shaker and, with a lightness in his chest, set off for home.

  Chapter 2

  Millie dropped her sunglasses in place and strolled toward the building where she was meeting the woman with a room for rent. Despite the early hour, sweat beaded at the nape of her neck from the humidity, and a heat haze rose from the ground. She brushed her bangs to one side. The joys of New York in summer.

  The apartment was more than she could really afford, but she had to sleep somewhere, and the streets of Manhattan didn’t appeal. She could have gone anywhere when she left Chicago—maybe somewhere the living costs weren’t quite so extortionate—but New York was, and always would be, home. It was where her happy childhood memories were, where her Mom and Dad lived.

  That also made it stupidest place to go.

  The thought had her glancing over her shoulder. Relax. He’s in Chicago.

  She shuddered and checked her watch, a cheap one that kept gaining time. Every morning she had to set it back three minutes, but she’d pawned her designer watch, one Tanner had given her for their fifth wedding anniversary. They’d had such a fight when she realized he’d gone into debt to buy her the damn thing. She’d insisted he take it back, but he’d refused. And then the sulks had started: the slamming doors and petty tantrums followed by the verbal abuse. How ungrateful she was; how she didn’t deserve him; how he wished he’d married someone else, like maybe Carly, the head cheerleader of their high school football team. He’d bet she wouldn’t be an ungrateful, fault-finding bitch. Same old routine. Same old Tanner.

  Same old her… because she’d taken his vitriol without argument, allowing him to chip away at her self-worth until he’d stripped her of it entirely.

  It was still five minutes before her appointment. Regardless, she pushed open the door to the building and stepped over the threshold. The smell of destitution and desperation flooded her nostrils. How had her life ended up like this? Ten years, during which time that idealistic young eighteen-year-old girl had wandered off on the arm of the captain of the football team, certain she was heading for a wonderful life, only to have her dreams shattered.

  She’d been on the rebound from Calum Brook, Cole’s twin brother—although in hindsight, her feelings for Calum had been little more than a schoolgirl crush, and when Tanner had made a move, she’d forgotten all about Calum, basking instead in the attention Tanner had lavished on her. Then, she’d relished the mean stares from the other girls because they’d made her feel special.

  What a naïve idiot.

  Every girl in her senior class had been out for blood when Tanner had put a ring on her finger. Not that it mattered. They’d left New York behind when Tanner had secured a tryout with the Chicago Bears.

  His big chance, though, hadn’t worked out. He’d trained hard, yet never quite made the team. As each game passed without being selected, Tanner became more and more frustrated, his anger and disappointment transforming into snide comments and critical taunts aimed in her direction.

  It was two years before his coach finally selected him for the team. He’d come home that day full of excitement and positivity, and Millie begun to hope their lives could start again. Then, on his first run out, he’d damaged his knee.

  Despite surgery, the doctors had told him he’d never play professionally again. He spent ab
out six months in a deep depression, using Millie as his punching bag—except words were his weapon of choice instead of fists, although an undercurrent of violence was never far away.

  His old coach had always liked Tanner—he could charm a snake when in the mood—and when he’d employed Tanner as an entry-level coach to help out with the juniors, Millie had prayed this slice of good fortune would signal the beginning of him turning his life around. Instead, he’d watched others living his dream, and his bitterness had grown.

  Over time she learned to live with his animosity. She’d wanted to support him, but when his tirades had increased in frequency, she’d feared the brutality festering inside the man she had once loved.

  Eventually, she’d found the strength and courage to run, but although she’d finally broken free, she couldn’t shake the sense of alarm that seemed to follow her everywhere.

  She’d give anything to go back in time and run as far from Tanner as her legs would carry her. Instead, she’d given him her innocence—and he, in turn, had destroyed her.

  She shrugged into her rucksack and climbed the stairs to the twelfth floor, pinching her nose to keep out the stench. The building did have an elevator but, unsurprisingly, it had a huge Out of Order notice stuck on its doors. Even if it had been working, she wouldn’t have taken it.

  On reaching the right floor, she tugged her sleeve over her hand and opened the door into the hallway. No way was she touching that filthy handle.

  She stepped onto a thin carpet and shuddered. Cigarette butts and debris were scattered about. Despair weighed heavily on her, but she refused to allow it to bring her down. Her life in Chicago hadn’t been extravagant—far from it—but compared to this place, her home was a palace.

  Correction, former home.

  The difference between here and there? Here, she could breathe. She was young and healthy. She’d cope. It wouldn’t be like this forever. She’d work hard, live frugally, and bide her time until she could afford somewhere better.

  The dim lighting overhead barely enabled her to make out where she was going. She found apartment 1214 about two-thirds down. She leaned against the wall and checked her watch. She was still a couple of minutes early. With any luck, Stella, the owner of this hideous hovel, wouldn’t be long.

  As she had that thought, the same door she’d entered through opened. A large bespectacled woman in her early sixties with a ruddy complexion and several missing teeth came lumbering toward her.

  “Millie Frayser?” she said, her hand clutched to her enormous breasts while she tried to catch her breath.

  Millie nodded and held out her hand. “Yes.”

  Stella ignored her polite gesture. “I’ve got someone else coming to look at it later today, so if you want it, you’d better act quick.”

  Stella inserted the key in the lock and then turned it. The door didn’t budge. She kicked at the bottom, but when it still stubbornly refused to open, she booted it again. The old splintered wood gave way with a groan. Stella gestured for Millie to go on ahead of her.

  Inside was one large room. The walls had once been painted a pale cream, but over time, the paint had faded and chipped away. On one wall was a small kitchenette. There was a bed pushed under the window that must double as a sofa because there wasn’t space for both. The only other door, apart from the one they’d just come through, led to a tiny bathroom. It had all the necessary equipment, although the shower looked like it was held together with rust, and black mold gathered in the corners.

  Millie turned on the faucet. After a few splutters, water flowed. Clean. Thank goodness.

  “So?” Stella said, hands resting on her ample hips. “You want it?”

  Millie hesitated. No, she didn’t want it but she had no choice. She stepped over to the window and glanced down into the alley that ran alongside the building. A horrible stench wafted up from a line of overflowing dumpsters. She turned around, trying not to gag.

  “I’ll take it.”

  She handed over a wad of cash. Panic settled in her stomach, and she repressed a shiver. One month down and a month and a half security had made a hell of a dent in her meager funds. She needed a job—fast—and then she’d save up like crazy and quit this dump as soon as possible. Whatever it took, whatever sacrifices she had to make, she could not let this be her destiny.

  Stella stuffed the notes in her pocket and scrawled a receipt on a piece of scrap paper. Not that such a thing would stand up in court, but something was better than nothing. She handed over the one key they’d entered with.

  “My guy will collect rent first of the month,” Stella told her. She wagged her finger in Millie’s face. “Don’t even think about messing with him, my girl. You don’t pay in dollars, he’ll use other methods to extract payment from you, if you know what I mean.”

  Stella gave her an exaggerated wink followed by a cackle worthy of a cartoon witch. Millie swallowed past a dry, painful throat. No need for Stella to spell out the details if Millie didn’t follow her end of the bargain.

  “I understand. First of the month,” Millie repeated.

  Stella disappeared into the hallway, closing the warped wooden door behind her. Millie plunked herself on the bed, then quickly leaped to her feet. For all she knew, the mattress could be full of fleas. Shuddering, she then gave the tattered sheets a flick. A cloud of dust brought on a sneeze, and a wave of hopelessness washed over her, despite her best efforts to stay positive. Other people lived like this and survived, and so would she. Time to go get her stuff and check out of the seedy hotel—to move into the equally seedy apartment.

  The fresh air outside was a panacea to her gloomy mood, as were the bustling streets that made her feel a part of something. She had to look on the practical side. Once she secured work, she’d take any and all overtime, and with any luck, would only have to sleep in that rancid apartment. Some fresh sheets on the bed, a good clean, and things wouldn’t seem so bad.

  Yeah, right…

  Gripping her purse tightly to her side, she headed back to the hotel. She packed up her two battered suitcases—not much to show for a decade of struggling—and then settled the check, which put another sizeable dent in her savings. She trudged back to the apartment. By the time she’d hauled her luggage up the twelve flights of stairs, her lungs were burning and her legs felt as though she had a ten-pound weight strapped to each one.

  Adopting Stella’s tactic with the door, Millie gave it a hefty kick. She made sure it was locked behind her and the chain was in place, then set the suitcases by the bed and opened the first one.

  She removed cleaning products and cloths. Gritting her teeth, she set about sanitizing everywhere: floors, walls, doors. She bent over to scour the grime from the bathtub, and a large black spider scurried out of the plughole. She screamed and dropped the cloth. The eight-legged creature darted about, trying to find a way out of its predicament.

  She reached for the faucet, then hesitated. It wasn’t fair to drown the thing. Instead, she ran into the kitchen and grabbed a glass and a sheet of paper towel. She folded it in half, opened the window and then returned to the bathroom. She placed the glass over the spider, sliding the paper towel underneath. Holding the trapped spider, praying she didn’t trip and fall, she picked her way across the room and emptied the glass outside the window.

  She shuddered. God, she hated spiders. She went back to her scrubbing, almost heaving as she cleaned other people’s filth from the tub. She could do this. She had to do this. Going back to Tanner wasn’t an option.

  Hours later, she flopped onto the bed, exhausted. She started to drift off, and then her cell buzzed. Her eyes sprang open as that horrible tingling in her limbs, the rock-hard stomach, and the clammy hands that were the mainstay of her existence made an unwelcome return. Then she released a breath. She wasn’t in Chicago any longer, and the message couldn’t be from Tanner, because he didn’t know her new number.

  Despite all that self-reassurance, her hands trembled as she reached f
or her phone. She glanced at the screen.

  Any pizza any size. $5.99. Collection only.

  For Christ’s sake! She’d almost had a coronary because of a stupid spammy text. Wide awake now, she went to switch off her cell and then changed her mind. She opened up the contacts app and scrolled down until she reached Mom and Dad. She hovered her finger over the call button, but couldn’t bring herself to take the final step.

  Both her parents had vehemently opposed her marriage to Tanner, but when she’d turned eighteen, they’d been powerless to stop her. She’d flounced off into the sunset with her brand-new football-star husband and hadn’t looked back.

  At first, she’d relished her newfound freedom. She was an adult—no one could stop her from doing exactly as she pleased. Unfortunately, as the weeks and months passed, she’d realized she missed her parents. She’d mentioned to Tanner about taking a trip back home, but he’d come up with a good reason at the time, probably something to do with his fledgling football career, and she’d let it slide.

  Over the next decade, he’d gradually isolated her from all of her family and friends. It had happened so slowly, she hadn’t noticed until it was too late. If she’d pushed, he’d thrown a tantrum and sulked. Then the nastiness had started. It had been easier to give in, to let him have his way. She’d stopped talking about her mom and dad, and apart from the odd phone call at Christmas or on birthdays, she’d barely seen her folks in the last ten years.

  Now she was back in the same city, she longed to hold them, to tell them they’d been right, and she’d been wrong. To apologize for all the missed opportunities to reconnect and make up for the years that had gone by.

  But her pride, her total humiliation, prevented her from dialing their number. Not yet. She wanted to reestablish herself first. Find a job, put some money aside, rediscover the girl she’d once been and somehow put her back inside the broken woman Tanner had created. Maybe that impressionable young lady could fix the damage caused by years of hell at Tanner’s hands.