Page 29 of Ruthless Protector

He ignored me completely. “I promised, Tilly.” He gave my niece a small grin, then headed to the kitchen, joining Cage and the police officer, who both looked ready to leave.

Tilly had relaxed against me, feeling safer now she knew her new favorite person would be watching over us all night. I carried her to my room and tucked her into bed, stroking her hair. “You go to sleep now. I bet it was just some silly teenager. They probably broke our window on a dare.”

“Really?” she said, looking hopeful and extremely exhausted.

“Yep. I’m sure of it. It’s going to be all right, Tils. I’m going to keep you safe, okay?”

She nodded, her eyes getting heavy. “I know. And Jude, he’ll keep us safe as well.”

Her eyes closed and I sat there until I was sure she was asleep.

The house was quiet when I went back downstairs, too quiet, and for a moment I thought Jude might have received my unspoken message and left. But when I went to make sure the door was secured, I found him. He was sitting on the couch, his elbows resting on his spread knees, hands dangling between those insanely solid thighs. His head was dipped but lifted when I walked in. Going by the don’t-even-try-with-your-bullshit look on his face, the inquisition was about to begin.

“You don’t need to stay,” I said, hoping like hell he'd get up and leave.

He shook his head. “I made a promise.”

I crossed my arms. “There aren’t many people you can count on in this world and fewer you can trust. Tilly knows that, she’ll understand that you had to go.” I don’t know why I told him that, or why I was pushing so hard.

His expression darkened. “You really want that? You want that little girl to grow up trusting no one, scared out of her mind, afraid to ask for help?”

My spine straightened. He’d aimed and fired. Thought he had me all figured out. Well, screw that. “We don’t always get what we want in this world, she knows that already. She learned that when her mother died and her father got locked up for being a dealer and a giant asshole.”

Shit. I hadn't meant to say that much.

He stood, but didn’t move closer. My living room seemed to shrink. I never failed to be jarred, awed, by the size of the man in front of me.

“She learned she could count on you,” he said. “You were there when she needed you, you stepped up. But what I want to know, Willa, is who do you have? Who’s there for you?”

My fingers curled against my sides, my nails digging into the skin of my palms. Those words hit me harder than I expected, and I hated it, hated that he thought he could see me, that he knew me. “You don’t know jack about me. If you did, you’d know I look after myself. I don’t need some guy with a white knight complex riding in to save me. You think because I’m a woman I can’t handle my own life, that I need some goddamn man to fix everything?”

Those brown eyes bore into me from across the room; they were sharp and intense. I’d said too much and he was reading between the lines, trying to figure out my story.

Finally, he said, “No, I don’t think you need a man to fix a damn thing, but by the looks of it, right now, Willa, I’m all you’ve got. So why don’t you stop trying to push me away and accept my help?”

I felt pinned by his stare, trapped. “Like I said, I take care of us. Just leave.” My voice didn’t sound strong like I’d intended, more a shaky whisper, and that pissed me off as well.

He moved closer then, until he was right in front of me, towering over me. He wasn’t trying to intimidate me, I knew that, and he proved it when one of his hands went to my waist and gently squeezed, sending tingles all over my body. He was trying to comfort me.

I realized then I was shaking.

He dipped his head lower. “Not everyone wants to screw you over. I know you believe that, that you expect it, that you want me to walk out that door so I can prove you right. But you don’t know me. I don’t say something unless I mean it. I keep my promises. I’m someone you and Tilly can count on,” he said, in a voice that was impossibly deep. “I’m not blind. You need a friend, Willa. Lean on me, even if it’s for a little while.”

I swallowed. Is that what I was doing? Why I was pushing? So I could be right? So I could have yet more evidence that people sucked?

I gritted my teeth. I didn’t need more proof. I already had it. I’d lived it. Repeatedly.

I tried to think of something to say, but bit back the vitriol. I was at least self-aware enough to know that was my go-to defense mechanism. I couldn’t bring myself to be a bitch to him. Because I didn’t hate him—how could I? And I knew, looking into his eyes, he truly believed what he’d said. He wanted to help us. Be the hero, the good guy. But I couldn’t trust in that, in his good intentions, not when I had Tilly to think about. Not when feelings, people, circumstances, changed on a dime. Soon enough, the next rescue mission, the next woman and child in distress, the next pretty face, would come along, and he’d walk. It’s just the way it was. It’s just what happened.

I held his stare. I couldn’t let down my guard around him. “I don’t need any more friends.”

“No?” he rumbled.

I shook my head, my heart racing faster. His fingers dug a little deeper into my side and I shivered.

His gaze didn’t waver. “Fair enough. Then why don’t you tell me what you do want? What you need?”

I wasn’t sure I’d ever been asked that question in my entire life. I swayed closer, seeking out more of his heat. God, he smelled amazing, leather and motor oil from his bike, the scent of the soap or deodorant he used; it was weirdly comforting. I wanted to bury my face against his chest and breathe him in. As dangerous as it was, I wanted to let him hold me up like he offered.