Singe (Guardian Protection #1)

A slow grin grew on his lips. “See, that’s where you’re wrong.” He shoved his hands into his pockets of his navy slacks. “One word with my attorneys and your entire life becomes mine in a civil suit.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I have neither the time nor the desire to go after the pennies in your bank account, but if ruining you is what I have to do in order to get you out of Rhion’s life forever, I have no compunction in doing just that.”

I gritted my teeth and seethed, “You want my fucking life? Take it! I have absolutely no use for it anymore. I’m already ruined. I’m a good cop who did the best I could to get her out of that fire alive. Now, get the fuck out of my way and let me see her.”

“Oh please,” he scoffed. “You were drunk.”

“I wasn’t fucking drunk!” I roared.

At my explosion, his bodyguards protectively closed in.

But I kept my anger leveled on him as I repeated, “I wasn’t drunk.”

He cocked his head to the side and smirked. “You’ve been warned. Am I to take our continued conversation as a challenge, Mr. Levitt?”

The muscles at my neck flexed, sending a stabbing pain to my burns. I didn’t even wince. I’d deserved that. And so much more.

“No challenge.” I stabbed a finger toward her door. “That woman wants my pennies, she can have them all. She wants my house? She can have that too. My car? It’s hers. I’m not here to cause her any trouble. But I will not fucking leave without seeing her.”

“And what makes you think she wants to see you?”

I cut my gaze to the floor as a boulder of guilt settled in my stomach. “I…”

Nothing else came out. I had no idea if she wanted to see me or not. But I needed to see her. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to breathe again without it. It wouldn’t take long. There were only so many different ways I could say, I’m sorry.

“Fine. Let me hear her say she doesn’t want to see me and you’ll never see me again.”

“Oh, I’ll never see you again regardless. And neither will she.” He laughed.

My soul caught fire. “That is not your decision to make!” I yelled, slamming my fist into his face.

“Get him the hell out of here,” the man spat, blood dripping from his lip.

Hands roughly landed on my shoulders, but I continued to fight them off. It would take more than two men to keep me from her.

“I walked through fire for her! Just let me say goodbye!” I roared.

“And yet our supposed hero wears the scars on his back.”

My head snapped to the side from his TKO blow. If there had ever been a time to throw in the towel, that would have been it.

But it was Rhion. My desperation to see her far outweighed any punishment he could dole out. Physically or verbally.

Adrenaline surged through my veins. “You son of a bitch!” I shouted, diving toward him.

One of the men caught me at my chest and sent me crashing to the floor.

“Get him out of here,” the older man ordered, brushing me off like the trash he assumed I was.

He wasn’t completely wrong.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Higgins,” one of the men replied, lifting me off the floor.

“Rhion!” I yelled as the older man pushed through the door to her room.

My entire body froze when I caught a glimpse of her.

The air thinned and my lungs suddenly went up in flames as her agony-filled eyes landed on me. Her arms were extended out to her sides as if she’d been mounted to a cross. Gauze was wrapped around her breasts to cover her, and tears streamed down her creamy, white cheeks.

“Butterfly,” I whispered.

Her face crumbled, and she turned her head away as though she were unable to bear the sight of me. I couldn’t blame her. God knew I couldn’t anymore.

But that one reaction carved out a piece of my soul that I would never be able to reclaim. I hadn’t been responsible for the fire, but I owned those burns all the same.

“Butterfly!” I yelled as the door started to swing closed. I frantically leaned to the side to keep her in my sights while hands forcefully pulled at my shoulders.

I couldn’t leave. Not without telling her I was sorry. Thus selfishly relieving myself of the overwhelming burden of that night.

I fought against their grip. “Butterfly!” I yelled. “Let me fucking go!” I barked as they dragged me away. “Butterfly!”

The pain at the back of my head was agonizing as I fought against them. But nothing could compare to the madness that would happen inside my head for the next four years.



With the sultry whisper of my name, a rash of memories of the night before came tearing through my thoughts.

Rhion opening the door.

Her body flush against mine.

A million whispered apologies.

A cup of coffee.

Rhion escaping to the pantry-slash-laundry-room.

Me following her.

Her talking.

And talking.

And talking.

More apologies.

My fingers tracing over her tattoos as I held her.

Her head slowly craning back.

Pale-blue eyes staring up at me.

Her lips brushing mine.

My mouth opening.

Her tongue meeting mine.

Her hands tugging at the hem of my shirt.

Buttons flying.

Me tearing her shirt over her head.

Her lithe body pinned against the door.

My tongue laving the swell of her breasts.

Her peaked nipples rolling between my fingers.

Her whispered moans.

My deep growls.

My fingers teasing the soft flesh beneath her waistband.

More apologies.

Her guiding me to the bed.

Her weight settling over my hips.

More apologies.

A moaned, “You’re real.”

A whispered, “Butterfly.”

A breathy, “Jude.”

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

“Jesus Christ,” I mumbled in disbelief, backing away from her.

How could I have let that happen? This was Rhion. My Butterfly. The woman who had been haunting my dreams. The same one I’d nearly gotten killed.

And, as if I hadn’t fucked up enough when it came to her, I now had firsthand knowledge of how perfectly her breasts fit in my palms.

“Jude, wait,” she called as she spun to face me.

I rubbed my temples in a worthless attempt to ease the pounding in my head. “How the hell did my getting drunk end with us in bed together?” I continued my retreat.

But she followed after me, pleading, “Wait.”

“Did we…” I trailed off.

“Did we what?” she asked softly, her voice holding an alarming combination of hope and regret.

I ran a hand over the scars on the back of my head and asked curtly, “Did we have sex?”

“No,” she answered immediately.

“Thank you, God,” I rushed out.

I didn’t miss her flinch, but I was too relieved to process it.

“What exactly happened?” I asked.

She shook her head entirely too many times. “Nothing really. We watched Terminator, ate ice cream, and then you passed out.”

More lies.

“Something else happened,” I stated.

Her gaze cut to the ground as her fingers went up to her necklace. She remained silent as she dragged the large diamond back and forth across the thin, silver chain.

“Rhion,” I called through my growing frustration.

“Fine, it was Pretty in Pink, but I didn’t figure you’d want a reminder of those two hours you’ll never get back,” she informed the floor.

“There was no movie.”

Her head snapped up, embarrassment carved in her smooth skin. “We just talked, okay?”