Hostile Territory (Blackbridge Security 1)

“I’ll be fine.”

“—is going on, it may not be safe going back to your building.”

We talk over each other, but I still hear what he says.

“Not safe?” I question, and just with his simple words, I grow frightened again.

I may lose my mind before all of this mess is over with. My emotions are firing a million miles an hour, and I don’t have a damn clue where it’s going to land next.

“There was so much blood, Deacon.” I lower my head and look down at my phone and shoes in my hands. “The EMTs’ gloves were covered in it. Cops were everywhere. If it wasn’t her, where is she?”

His throat works on a swallow as tears begin to roll down my cheeks. “I don’t know, but you’re stuck here until we figure it out. Let Jude get those wounds cleaned up. You won’t be walking any runways if they get infected.”

My jaw hangs open, but he doesn’t even notice because in a blink, he’s disappearing into an office on the other side of the room. How much does he remember? How much did he pay attention to me way back when? He knew I wanted to be a model? A pipe dream that never came to fruition, but still. He remembered? I can’t even allow myself to be angry that his words were another barb, another insult about the differences in our lives.

“Follow me,” Jude says as he walks past.

Looking around the room, I find Ignacio off the phone and staring in my direction. When I notice the charming Brooks doing the same, I duck my head and follow the guy back down the hallway. The second he shoves open a door, the lights flash on, revealing a room stuffed with enough medical supplies to make most free-standing clinics jealous.

He points to an exam table on the far wall, and like the obedient child I never was, I hop up on the table without argument.

After washing his hands, he gathers supplies and spreads them out on a small rolling table.

“How long have you known Deacon?”

He doesn’t say a word as he pulls on latex gloves, unwraps some gauze, and pops the top on a new bottle of saline.

I hiss when the cool fluid flows over my sores, and I expect him to grip me hard when his free hand presses to the back of my calf to hold me steady, but surprisingly his touch is gentle, much the same way I’d expect a doctor in a hospital to be.

“I didn’t even know he was out of the military,” I continue.

I’m left without a response once again.

“You’re not curious about me?”

This causes his eyes to lift up to mine, but he still doesn’t open his mouth.

I give him a sweet smile, one that has worked for me numerous times in the past, but he doesn’t seem fazed by the miniscule charm I’m trying to lure him in with. I want details on Deacon. I want to know what he’s been up to for some reason. Is he even up to the challenge of locating Dani? Is she even missing? Did someone take her and hurt her? Was her blood in the condo as well?

I keep the questions coming before my mind can run through every episode of CSI I’ve watched and start coming to horrific conclusions about my best friend.

“Not curious at all?” I prod because talking seems to help with the insane thoughts racing through my mind.

Jude only gives me another small smile.

“Is it often that women show up here off the street in crisis?”

His lip twitches. “You’d be surprised just how often that very thing happens.”

And things just got a lot more interesting.

What exactly have you become, Deacon Black?Chapter 5Deacon

“You’re a dick.”

I take a long slow breath, keeping my eyes off the stupid fucking bird as I enter Wren’s office again.

“I’m going to put that bird in a fucking stew,” I threaten.

“At least he didn’t call you motherfucker,” Wren says as I pull up a chair beside his. “Give him some time to change. It’s a slow process.”

“Speaking of slow,” I mumble, angling my head toward the computer. “What do you have for me?”

“Quite a lot actually.”

I spend the next hour going through the copious amounts of information Wren has discovered online, and my eyes are nearly crossing when I stand to leave. After finding out that Dani wasn’t the one hurt, I was hoping this would end up being an open-and-shut case, but the shit Wren just explained to me makes things much more complicated.

“Compile the rest of it for me. Shoot it to my phone and print a hard copy.”

“You got it.”

I turn and glare at the bird, challenging the bastard to say something. Unconcerned and using his beak and foot to open a sunflower seed, he simply does that head tilt shit before shooting me a later as I open the door.