Tank (Blue-Collar Billionaires 1)

I could have done the bandage myself in less time and with a better result but it’s oddly comforting to have her leaning over me, so concerned. Her warm manner wraps around me and pervades the darkness that’s been in me since this afternoon.

When I agreed to see my father, I couldn’t have anticipated the negative emotions it would dredge up for me. It’s been years and I thought it was behind me. But there’s no doubt that seeing him tonight has unleashed something in me. Something I’m not sure how to put back.

“Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

I don’t even have the heart to tease her or make a suggestive comment. She tugs on my other arm until I rise from the table. Then she pushes me down the hall and into the bedroom.

She leans down and pushes her shoes under the bed. Then she takes off her earrings and opens the bedside drawer to drop them in. All the color drains from her face. She stands and backs away until she hits the opposite wall. Her breathing quickens, shallow breaths that sound like gasping.

“Emma, what—”

“I can’t. I just can’t.” Then she bursts into tears.

My mouth falls open. The nightstand still hangs open so I walk over and peer in. My Glock 19 sits squarely in the middle of the drawer.

Emma turns to face the wall, still taking those rapid breaths. If she keeps sucking in oxygen like that, she’ll probably pass out. I approach her slowly. My last girlfriend wasn’t fond of seeing all my hardware either but she never reacted like this.

I want to hold her but I’m not sure if she would appreciate that right now. So I just lean on the wall a few feet away. “Take a deep breath. Slowly. In and out.”

She looks at me briefly. “I’m okay. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“I know. Just breathe, buttercup.”

Her breath whooshes out all at once, and then she takes a deep inhale. Her eyes stay on my face. We stand like that for a few minutes, breathing quietly. When the color comes back to her face, I move away.

“I am so sorry. I’ll move it.” I lead her to the bed and she sits, woodenly. I block her view of the nightstand with my body as I retrieve the gun. There’s a gun locker in my closet where I keep my Heckler & Koch and a few of my semi-automatic rifles. I walk into the closet and put the Glock in the case. When I come out, I sit on the edge of the bed.

“Emma? When your parents were killed … you were there, weren’t you?”

Her fingers clench in the blanket and then her head bobs up and down. Yes.

Emotion wells inside me. She’s here, helping me, even though watching violence of any kind has to be traumatizing for her. The scene she witnessed in the alley tonight suddenly takes on new meaning. She waded into that for me.

She’s dealing with things that obviously scare the shit out of her, for me.

“You don’t have to stay. I understand if you want to go home.” Even I’m not selfish enough to make her sleep here if she’s freaked out. Nothing is going to help me at this point but I can help her. I’ll probably be up all night anyway but she needs to sleep. And she needs to feel safe enough to do that.

She turns sad eyes to me. “I’m staying, Tank. I told you I would. I’m not going to leave you.”

I’m not touching that statement so I grab a T-shirt from my dresser and hand it to her. She pulls it over her head and then pushes her jeans down. After she folds them and puts them on the end of the bed, she pats the space next to her. “Come on. I’m tired.”

I don’t believe that I’ll actually get any sleep. When my emotions run high like this, sometimes I’m up for days on end. But the sheets are crisp and cool and Emma curls up next to me, warm and soft. Her bottom is pressed up against me and I’d have to be dead not to react to that but instead of it being purely sexual, it feels like she’s an extension of me. Like she’s supposed to be there. For the first time all day, I let out a breath and relax.

Then slip quietly into dreaming.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EMMA

This time when I roll over, I’m prepared for it. Tank is awake and watching me again.

“What is it with you watching me sleep? It’s creepy.”

He grins and pulls me closer. His morning erection pokes me in the belly. “Is that creepy, too?”

I rub up against him. “That part I don’t mind.”

He buries his face in my neck and inhales. It should be the weirdest thing in the world, curled up in bed with a man who is smelling me, but instead I feel safe. Protected.