Colin glared at his brother, too thin for his tall body, hair a mop of curls, lip ring and stretched earlobes. “Do I look fucking transparent?”
Graham steadied himself and tilted up his chin to peer through his hair. “Nae. S’pose not. More like a pissed off ring fighter or some shite. What you so mad about? Why’re you lot usin’ my place anyhow?” He stumbled past Colin to the bathroom and took a piss with the door wide open.
“I’ll explain everything in the morning when you’re sober. Just try to be polite to your guests. They’ll only be here a few days.”
Graham grunted and bumped backward into the wall.
Colin forced him to drink a tall glass of water and brush his teeth before crashing onto his bed. He allowed himself to peer down at his sleeping brother for one moment before sighing. It never got easier seeing the wreck of his younger brother’s life. For years he’d tried to get his brother to dig himself out of this bottomless pit, but Graham didn’t give a fuck about anything. Or so he made it seem. He didn’t want this kind of future for Angela. He hoped to God she would rise up through these ashes, not fall into them.
Colin left his brother to sleep. He wasn’t too worried about Graham bothering the Birches while they were here. His brother would sleep during the day and be gone during the night.
By the time everyone woke the next morning, Colin had buzzed his hair and shaved his face. He gave himself a good long stare in the mirror and swore he’d do the right thing by Angela, whatever that may be. It physically hurt in his gut to think about being without her, but he would never force himself on her or her family. He didn’t think he could ever fit into a unit like that, anyhow. Although it might be…nice.
He shook his head. He needed to erase that thought from his fucking mind.
At six AM a light knock at the front door caused Colin’s heart to pound. Who’d gotten through the security gate? The house was silent as he slipped from his room. He held his gun close and pulled back the edge of the curtain enough to see a tall brunette in business attire.
The head shrink. Fuck, he didn’t even have a shirt on. He’d forgotten Abernathy said he was sending someone.
Colin opened the door. The woman’s bland expression morphed into one of interest as she took in Colin’s face and bare chest, all the way down to the gun in his hand. She spoke in a pleasant Scottish accent.
“You must be Agent Douglas? I’m Agent Deena MacDonald, the psychologist.”
She stuck out a slender hand, her eyes perusing him once more. He shook her hand and asked, “Bit early, isn’t it?”
“Agent Abernathy and I agreed it would be best to speak with the girl first thing when she wakes.”
He nodded and let her in, his gaze scouting the grounds once before closing the door and locking it. He stuffed his gun into the waistband of his jeans.
“Everyone is still asleep,” he said.
“That’s fine. I can speak with you first.” She looked professional enough, but Colin could hear the hint of something in her voice—that flirtatious vibe some women gave off.
“Let me get a shirt on.”
Her near smile fell as he left her to put on the wrinkled shirt from the day before. He’d have to ask Abernathy to bring something for him to change into when they met later.
Agent MacDonald was sitting at Graham’s dining table—probably the only person to ever sit in that proper room—with her long legs crossed, skirt landing just above her knees, and a notebook in hand. She slid on a pair of wire rimmed glasses and watched him with that same interest as he sat across from her.
She was attractive, he admitted in a fleeting thought, and that’s where it ended for him. Because while this woman’s stealthy gaze roamed his body, all he could think about was Angela. Agent MacDonald’s bit of cleavage, and the shadow leading up her legs into her skirt didn’t quite have the appeal they might’ve over a week ago.
Fuck me, he thought. Maybe he was the one who needed a head shrink.
“Agent Abernathy tells me the girl was held captive as a sexual slave for two years. Is that correct?”
“Angela,” Colin said. He cleared his throat, crossed his hands on the table in front of him. “Yes, that’s correct.”
“You may not have all the answers I’m seeking, but every bit helps. Do you know if they drugged her regularly?”
He shook his head. “Not that I know of. I never saw her drugged.” He remembered what Graham had been like, and it was nothing like that at the villa. The other Agent took note.
“How about physical abuse? Was she beaten?”
Yes, by me. Colin dropped his eyes and his knee began to bounce. “Uh.” Again he cleared his throat. He suddenly wasn’t in the fucking mood to talk about this. “Not regularly. There were mentions of previous punishments.”
“Mm.” Agent MacDonald watched him a bit too carefully for his liking. She tapped the pen on the paper until his steely gaze hit hers and she sucked in a small breath. She touched her fingers to her chest before continuing.