Page 51 of Ruthless Protector

I’m doing it for Tilly. I need the money.

His reply was almost instant. The crowd can be a little rough evenings, make sure one of Raul’s boys has eyes on you at all times.

I blinked down at his message, warmth unfurling in the center of my chest. He was concerned, maybe even worried about me. When was the last time someone was worried about me? I couldn’t remember. My mom had been too caught up in her own misery, working all the time, and Rebecca had been so deep into drugs, all she’d worried about was her next fix. Then there was my ex-boyfriend, who ran off as soon as things got complicated. He’d only ever cared about himself.

Jude wasn’t family. He didn’t owe me anything, he had no obligation to me and Tilly. He was my landlord, and he’d shown more kindness to us than anyone in my family ever had.

I will. I text back.

I got up and headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I was ready for bed and climbing between the covers when his next text came.

Glad to hear it. You nearly ready to hit the sack?

On a whim, I opened the camera and took a picture of myself, hair in a messy bun, and tongue poking out, like a complete goof—I was also braless under my tank, and I might have let that show as well—then sent it to him. I picked up my book and tried to read. I read the same paragraph four times, waiting for his reply.

Fuck, Willa, was all it said when it came.

I had no idea what that meant. Okay, maybe I did, but I found myself wanting him to spell it out. Maybe that was playing with fire, again sending mixed signals, and God, I knew it was selfish, but Jude made me feel good; about myself, about my ability to raise my niece. He made me feel like I wasn’t failing miserably at every damn aspect of my life.

Fuck, what? I sent back. I wasn’t fooling anyone with that reply, and his, when it came, made that perfectly clear.

I’m on a stakeout here, babe, and now the only thing I want to look at is that fucking picture.

I grinned. I’m in my pjs, with messy hair, and my tongue poking out. Besides comic relief, I’m not sure why you’d be distracted.

Jude: Comic, is not the kind of relief I’m craving when I look at you.

Willa: No?

Jude: Coy doesn’t suit you, honey. You know exactly what it’s doing to me.

My heart started racing, my skin heating, feeling too tight. I typed my reply. Maybe.

Jude: No maybe. It’s not a matter of if, for us, but when, and you know it.

I was trying to think of a way to answer that, when those three little dots popped up again, telling me he was typing.

Jude: Gotta go, my guy’s on the move. Talk tomorrow.

I stared down at our messages. What the hell did I think I was doing? I put my phone down by the bed, my heart still racing fast, my skin clammy, hot pulsing need between my thighs.

It was a bad idea.

But who was I kidding. I’d wanted him since the day I met him, and he showed me around this house. I didn’t have time for this, for a man like Jude. Tilly needed my entire focus. I had Trent to worry about.

But deep down, I knew Jude was right.

There was no if, only when.

* * *

I woke with a start the next morning, my phone buzzing relentlessly on my bedside table. Adrenaline was still pumping through my veins as I grabbed it and checked the screen.

Trent.

I wanted to ignore it, pretend he never called, that he didn’t exist, but that wasn’t an option. Ignoring him would only make him angrier.

I put it to my ear. “What do you want?”