Page 8 of Ice Covered Heart

“I’m scared.” A stark admission.

“You do not need to be.” His immediate vow. “I will protect you from every threat.” So…that had been guttural. A bit savage.

She blinked those hypnotizing eyes of hers at him.

Time to dial things back a bit. “What are you afraid of?” There. Better. He probably should have posed that question before. His bad.

She rose from the chair.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Was she leaving? Had he screwed up his first official case before it had even started? One minute, Shelby was talking about him being her twenty-four, seven guard, and now…

She turned away from him.

“Don’t leave.” Still guttural. Dammit. He heaved from the desk. Put a hand on her shoulder. Then immediately realized his mistake as a surge of heat seemed to travel from her body to his fingers and straight to his soul.

Oh, shit.

Shelby glanced back at him. Had she just felt that surge, too?

Her gaze was guarded. Her expression emotionless. “I’m not leaving.”

Excellent to know. He should probably let go of her shoulder. He should. He should.

He did. With a maximum amount of effort.

A determined exhale escaped Shelby. “I’m not leaving,” she repeated. “I’m just trying to figure out how to say this next part without sounding completely crazy.”

“I happen to like crazy. One of my favorite things. Give me your crazy. I can handle it.”

A flutter of her lashes. “You’re unusual. Not at all what I expected.”

Yeah, he should let this go but… “What did you expect?”

Her gaze cut from his. A faint red flush came and went in her cheeks.

Interesting. They’d revisit his question later.

She turned to fully face him. They were about a foot apart. She was small. Five-foot-six and a half. Yes, he knew her exact height. He knew her birth date. He knew her childhood home. He was a Shelby Carter expert.

Her hand lifted, and she tucked a lock of hair behind her right ear.

His gaze followed that graceful movement of her hand.

He also knew that Shelby had lost at least partial hearing in her right ear. At some point during her fight with her attacker, Shelby had been stabbed in her ear. The blade had pierced her ear drum. One of the docs at the trial had talked about how the tiny bones in her middle ear had been broken.

Shelby had spent two weeks in the hospital. She’d had brain trauma, knife wounds, blood loss. She’d flatlined at least one time, only to come back.

Because she was a fighter.

When she brushed back her hair, he saw the faint glint of a white device that perched on the shell of her ear. A small tube—looked like a little piece of plastic—led into her ear.

His jaw hardened as he gazed at that device.

“I know it’s not the prettiest thing,” she said, “but it gets the job done.” And she pulled her hair forward again, untucking it and hiding her ear. “Without it, I can’t hear much with my right ear. With it, I get along just fine.”

Wait, back up, did she think he had some kind of problem with her hearing aid? No way. “I hate that you were hurt.” There was nothing to do about the deep rumble of his voice. Apparently, he’d just be guttural and growly when he talked to her. “I am sorry for any pain that you suffered, and the bastard who hurt you deserves the hell that’s coming for him.” Done. And⁠—

“What if he doesn’t?”