Read Witness Online

Authors: Piper Davenport

Tags: #Romance, #Contemporary, #Romantic Suspense, #Mystery & Suspense, #Suspense

Witness (5 page)

BOOK: Witness
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He smiled. “Do you want to talk to your parents?”

“You can arrange that?”

“If you really want to, yeah, I can arrange it.”

“Yes, please,” she said, and nodded. “They’re probably worried sick. What should I tell them?”

“You took an impromptu trip with friends?”

“I don’t really have friends I’d take an impromptu trip with.” Bailey bit her lip. “I could say I met someone, but then they’ll want to know names and particulars.” She sighed. “Can I tell them about Ali?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. We just got the missing person notice a few days ago, so right now, she’s only a missing person.”

“Okay, then, new boyfriend it is.” She gave him a challenging smile. “What will I call him?”

“I’ll figure out something before you call them,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“How’s your pain?” he asked.

“Good.”

“But.”

“But nothing.”

He leaned against the doorjamb. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

She shook her head.

Brock raised an eyebrow. “Is it me, the stuff with your parents, or the general state of your situation?”

She grimaced. “All of the above?”

“We’ll sort it out.” He smiled. “I’ll be in the living room watching the game if you need me.”

“There’s a game?”

“There’s always a game.”

She giggled. “I guess that’s true. Goodnight.”

“’Night, babe,” he said, and pulled the door closed.

* * *

Brock made his way back to the living room and settled in for a long night. Bailey was a complication and a distraction he hadn’t expected. But he couldn’t get her off his mind and she was worming her way into his heart. Not good. Not good at all.

His cell phone buzzed and he saw Dallas’s name pop up. “Hey, Dal.”

“Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah. All’s quiet here.”

“Quiet out here too. I’ll see you in a minute.” Dallas was on street watch, but truth be told, not a lot happened in the sleepy little neighborhood after eleven.

“Okay.”

Brock hung up and Dallas entered the safe house, using their code knock. Even so, Brock had his gun at the ready. Dallas dropped his bag on one of the chairs and Brock holstered his gun. “You wanna sleep first?” Dallas asked.

“Nah, I’m good. Go ahead.”

Dallas nodded. “’Night.”

“’Night, brother.”

Dallas headed into the bedroom and Brock found a baseball game on some sports channel. He lasted about an hour until his focus pulled from the television to the hallway. As if he wished her into being, Bailey walked out of the mouth of the hallway and made her way to the kitchen. Brock was drawn to her ample rear end as she moved. He’d always been a T&A guy, and Bailey didn’t disappoint on either. She wore a tight pair of yoga pants and a black, lacy camisole that hid enough, but made Brock want to peel it off her. She grabbed a bottled water and walked back towards him, giving him a shy smile.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi.”

“Still can’t sleep?”

She shook her head.

“Are you in pain?”

“No. Just wired.”

“Wanna watch the game with me?”

Bailey wrinkled her nose. “Baseball? Um, no, I’ll pass.”

“Might put you to sleep.”

She tipped the water toward him. “You might have a point.”

Brock chuckled, patting the cushion next to him. “Plant it, babe.”

She took a seat and grabbed a blanket from the ottoman beside the television. It didn’t take long for her to look sleepy, so Brock guided her head onto his lap, wrapping the blanket around her. He stroked her hair as she lost her battle with sleep and her breathing evened out.

He heard Dallas head to the bathroom, and then watched him walk into the living room. “What the hell, Brock?” Dallas whispered. “Are you kidding me with this?”

“Shhh. You’ll wake her.”

“Not a good idea.”

“Your concerns are noted,” Brock whispered.

“You screw this up, brother, and you and I are gonna have a problem.” Dallas grabbed water and headed back to his room.

Brock ran a finger gently down Bailey’s cheek. Her face was healing faster than expected, revealing a beauty Brock had guessed was there, but hadn’t anticipated it would be so incredible. Her skin was like porcelain, her body would make Marilyn Monroe envious, and her hair…her hair was soft…so damn
soft.
He figured it was the expensive shampoo and conditioner she’d requested and he was happy to buy it, considering the end result.

He realized in that moment, he had to let her go. He had to hunker down, protect her, but forget about getting close to her. In the real world, she was out of his league.

CHAPTER EIGHT

 

B
AILEY
F
OLLOWED
B
ROCK
into the medical offices at the hospital and upstairs to Dr. Stone’s office. It was two weeks after she’d fallen asleep on Brock’s lap and two weeks since Brock seemed to have forgotten their sweet and romantic kiss. Two weeks since he’d carried her to her room, kissed her temple, and stroked her hair. Two weeks since he’d gone back to being Brock the agent and not Brock the friend who could be more, and two weeks since he’d just been sweet in general. Now he was cold, professional, and all about protecting Bailey.

As promised, he set up a call with her parents. Her mother was justifiably melodramatic and her father was detached. They’d come up with a pretty lame story that Bailey had flown to Aspen with a new boyfriend and had lost her cell phone, so the number she was calling from was the new one. Her father had asked her about the man’s name and she’d given him Kevin Smith from Seattle. He seemed happy with that…well, not happy, but not concerned, which was the same in Bailey’s opinion.

When she hung up, Brock had been pissed. When she’d pressed him as to why, he’d noted that they weren’t worried.

“My mom
is
worried.”

“No, I don’t think she is.” He rubbed his forehead. “I think she’s disingenuous.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Babe, parents who keep a woman on as tight a leash as you, don’t just worry, they watch.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I have more that I have to figure out.”

Not knowing what to make of his words, and with Brock looking like he could kill someone, Bailey dropped the conversation. She wasn’t interested in knowing why he was so pissed, or in getting any more emotionally involved with him.

“You can go back,” the receptionist said, when Bailey walked up to the desk. “Room two.”

“Thanks.”

Brock stayed close as she headed to exam room two. He waited with her until the doctor arrived, and then without a word, stepped back into the hallway.

“How’s the arm?” Dr. Stone asked as he washed his hands.

“Good. No more pain,” she said.

“What about the ribs?”

“Not quite as good.”

He smiled. “Okay, let’s get that cast off and we’ll see where we’re at.”

She nodded and Dr. Stone buzzed his assistant into the room. She arrived with a chainsaw. Okay, maybe not quite a chainsaw, but it made a similar noise as the doctor scored one side of her cast and then the other. He popped the cuts with a prying instrument and then cut the padding, pulling the cast open so she could remove her arm.

Bailey grimaced as she pulled her arm out.

“Did that hurt?”

Bailey shook her head.

“Why the grimace?” he asked.

“Probably because I was expecting it to hurt, so I preemptively made it.”

Dr. Stone chuckled. His assistant left the room and the doctor did some range of motion work on her arm and smiled. “It looks great, Bailey. The ribs might take a little more time, but overall, you’ve healed a lot faster than expected.”

“Thanks, Dr. Stone. I appreciate it.”

Dr. Stone nodded. “Anytime. You can wash up in the sink and, of course, you’re free to shower normally now.”

“Thanks,” she said with a grin and made her way to the sink. “Showering with a plastic bag’s a bitch.”

“I know it.” He smiled and leaned against the counter. “Do you have any questions or concerns?”

Bailey shook her head. “No. I feel great.”

“Good. You have my number, so feel free to call me. But if you have any medically-related questions, you should call the main number.”

“Oh, okay.” She frowned over her shoulder as she washed her arm. “Wait. What else would I call you for?”

“Dinner, maybe?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’d like to take you out. Dinner. Tomorrow maybe?”

She grabbed paper towels and faced him again as she dried her hands. “I…I don’t really know what to say, Dr. Stone.”

He smiled. “Alec.”

“Ah. Okay. Alec.”

“Look, I know it might seem sudden, but I’d like to get to know you.”

“I…um…I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes to dinner. No strings.”

The image of Brock fought for space in her mind and she bit her lip. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“We’ll stay close to home, so to speak, and one of the guys can drive you.”

“You want Brock or Dallas to drive me to and from a date with you?”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

“Because I’m kind of house bound right now. They let me come here because it’s necessary. I don’t think they’ll let me go out on any dates until this mess is over.”

Alec smiled. “You’ve got a point. I didn’t think about that. I’ve never dated a material witness before.”

“I think we should just hold off for a while.”

“I can wait, Bailey. You name the time; I’ll find the place and make it special.”

“Can I think about it?”

“Of course. But not too long.”

She blushed. “Okay.”

Alec pulled open the door and held it for her and she stepped into the hallway to see Brock push away from the wall. “All good?” he asked.

“She’s perfect,” Alec said.

“Thanks, Doc,” Brock said.

“No problem.” Alec headed down the hall and Bailey watched him go.

“You okay?” Brock asked.

“Yep,” she said.

Brock guided her to the elevators, finding one open and they stepped inside. The doors closed and Brock smiled. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“I know,” she said. “Sorry. I’m just tired. Are you with me tonight or is Dallas?”

“Me tonight, Dallas tomorrow,” he said. “Is that okay?”

“Of course,” she said.

“Are you hungry?”

“No, I’m good.”

For the most part, Brock left her to her thoughts as they drove from the medical offices at the hospital back to the safe house. Brock was on constant alert, scanning the road and rearview mirror, watching for tails. This meant Bailey had a few precious moments to think without him invading her space. For the most part, she couldn’t focus on anything when he was around. His smile had a tendency to make her want to strip off her clothes and rush him, which was weird for her as she’d never felt that way before. It wasn’t that men intimidated her necessarily; she’d just never met one who checked all the boxes of what turned her on. Brock, however, checked most of them.

“What’s up, Bailey?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Babe, I can tell somethin’s bothering you.”

“How much do you know about Dr. Stone?” she asked.

“More than I probably should.” Brock stopped at a red light and frowned at her. “Why?”

“Um, he kind of just asked me out.”

Brock’s face went lethal. “Sorry?”

God, she needed to stop spouting her mouth off. No filter Bailey strikes again.

“On a date. He wants to take me to dinner tomorrow night.”

“Fuck!” The light turned green, but Brock didn’t move and received a honk from behind. He hit the accelerator and sped through the light.

“Brock, slow down.”

He did and took a deep breath. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Of what?”

“Alec. I’ll take care of it.”

“I already did that,” she said. “I told him no. At least, for tomorrow night.”

Brock swore again.

“I shouldn’t have told you,” she grumbled.

He didn’t respond as they drove into the quiet neighborhood of their safe house. He hit the garage door button and maneuvered the SUV inside. Bailey undid her seatbelt and pushed open the door.

“Wait,” he warned. “You know the drill.”

Yes, she
did
know the drill. She knew the drill too well. She shouldn’t know the drill. She should be looking for a job, or heading home, or all of the above.

Brock drew his gun and pushed open the door to the house. His body rigid, his face contorted in a way she’d never seen it before. Bailey followed him inside; unclear as to why he was so pissed. He did a quick safety check, secured the windows and doors, and then radioed to Dallas they were inside and all was clear.

She made her way to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. “Can I get you anything?”

“No,” he said, his tone clipped. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

He walked out the back and Bailey flopped on the sofa with a frustrated groan.

* * *

Brock dialed Dallas’s number, trying to rein in his anger.

“You okay?” Dallas answered. Dallas was out for a few hours to take care of team business and Brock had said he wouldn’t call him unless there was a problem. In his place, Jaxon was sitting out on the street in a nondescript black sedan.

“I wanna know why the hell your brother thinks it’s a good idea to ask Bailey out.”

“He asked her out?”

“Yeah, he fuckin’ did. For tomorrow night.” Brock rubbed his forehead. “What the fuck, Dal?”

“So, this is how it goes, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s how it goes.”

“Not sure this is smart, Brock,” Dallas said.

“So you’ve said.” Brock stared at the glass door separating himself from Bailey.

“I’ll talk to Alec.”

“No, Dal.
I’ll
talk to Alec,” Brock corrected. “But this is your heads up.”

“I got your back, Brock.”

“Appreciate it.”

“See you in a few hours,” Dallas said, and hung up.

And that was the end of the Bailey discussion, at least between him and Dallas.

* * *

Bailey stretched her neck as Brock stormed back through the door. Still looking irked, but not as mad as he was before.

“Can you answer something for me?” she asked as she rose to her feet and faced him.

“What?”

“Why are you so mad?” she asked.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to ask questions you don’t want an honest answer to?” he challenged.

“Fine, Brock. Whatever,” she snapped, and stalked past him.

He caught her arm gently and frowned.

“What?” she pressed.

“Fuck!”

“Well, that’s helpful,” she grumbled, and tried to pull her arm away.

Without warning, his mouth was on hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth for better access and his tongue thrust inside as she slid her fingers into his hair.

Brock broke the kiss. “Fuck!”

Bailey frowned. “Okay, I know I’m not the most experienced with kissing, but I don’t think I’m
that
bad.”

“We aren’t supposed to do this,” he said.


Okay
. Then why are we?”

“Fuck!”

“Oh, my
god
, Brock. Stop saying fuck! You’re not an idiot; at least I don’t think you are. I know you have more words in your vocabulary than fuck. Just tell me what’s going on with you.”

“You can’t see Alec.”

“You said that already. I get it. It’s dangerous.” She picked up the water bottle and unscrewed the cap. “He said he can wait, so I guess I can too.”

“You’re not hearing me, Bailey. You can’t see him, period. Not at all,” he stressed.

“I can’t wait?”

“You can’t ever see him.”

Bailey let out a derisive snort. “Why not?”

“Fu—”

“Brock!”

He sat on the arm of the sofa and pulled her between his legs. “I have a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

“I’m on a job.”

“Ah, huh.”

“And that job is to protect you.”

She nodded. “Ah, huh.”

“Which means, I can’t have any distractions, which means we can’t be in a relationship.” His thumbs rubbed the insides of her wrist. “Outside of a professional one, that is.”

Bailey rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I get it. What’s the problem?”

“I
want
to be in a relationship.”

“What?” she squeaked.

“Fuck!”

“Okay, seriously, Brock. I love that word…I really do. It’s the perfect word for all manner of situations, but you’re going to give me a complex if you keep saying it in reference to being in a relationship with me.”

“Sorry.” He cupped her cheeks. “The thought of you being with anyone else makes me want to shoot something. Right now that something is Alec Stone.”

“So, you’re jealous.”

“No, baby, it’s deeper than that.”

She shivered when he called her baby. Her reaction more extreme that she would have expected. “I don’t know what to say.”

BOOK: Witness
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