I leaned down–way down–and set my chin on her shoulder. “Yeah, I get that. My brother used to be a financial guy. Used to work on Wall Street in New York. He’s all about building equity. He made sure I invested every dollar of my military pay the entire eight years I was enlisted. I was able to save up a decent nest egg, and with his consistent help, it’s continued to grow.”
“That’s what I want although I don’t have an investment-savvy brother.” She turned to face me, her hands coasting over my abs, exploring my skin. I wanted to devour her. Throw her on the bed and eat her pussy until she screamed again. But I also wanted to listen.
I needed to get to know my mate, so I could understand what made her tick. How I could satisfy her beyond orgasms. How I could convince her to let me stay with her. How she could be mine. Or how I could be hers.
“My dad left us when I was a baby. I don’t remember him. Growing up, my mom always looked to a man for financial stability, and it backfired every time. I gave up counting the number of times she told me she’d found The One.” Shadows moved across her face, and I wanted to chase them away. “She never worked. She had this idea that a man was supposed to take care of her–of us–so she was always looking for the next meal ticket. She made some really awful choices.”
I frowned. “Did any of them…hurt you?”
Because if they did, I would fucking rip them to shreds. I needed names.
She let out a surprised chuff of laughter. “Why? Would you kick some ass?”
“Damn straight.”
She laughed again, like I was joking. “No, nothing like that. Just scary, unstable situations. Narcissists and controlling men. Throw in a couple sexist pigs who thought having a Korean woman in the house meant he’d be waited on hand and foot.” Brooke rolled her eyes. “My mom wasn’t having that. She wanted to be doted on and cared for, not the other way around.”
I studied her. “So did you have to do a lot of caring for her?”
There were a lot of kids who acted more of a grownup than their parents who couldn’t take care of themselves. I didn’t like the idea that this was how Brooke had grown up. Dealing with a mother who was always looking for something bigger and better without the hard work to go with it and the men who she expected to give it to her had to have been fucking rough.
It made sense now why she was so focused on her work. How it was something sturdy. Dependable. That would always be needed. She had job security in accounting.
The clouds returned to Brooke’s face. “Yeah. Sometimes. And it doesn’t take three years of therapy to figure out that’s why I became an accountant. I was looking for something quiet and stable. Numbers don’t lie, and everyone’s got to pay their taxes.”
She said exactly what I’d been thinking.
“A safe, controlled environment,” I replied. “Low risk, job, and income security. That makes sense.”
My sweet, beautiful mate. I’d give her all the safety and structure she could ever need, if she’d just let me take care of her.
“So that’s why I want to own my own little city loft. I need to know I can take care of myself, you know? I don’t want to be like my mom and rely on someone else.”
Right. She didn’t want me to take care of her. She wanted to take care of herself. Got it. It didn’t subdue my desire to be there for her though. If she wanted to stand on her own two feet, that was fine, as long as I stood right beside her.
“I definitely see a woman who can take care of herself,” I affirmed. My filthy mind instantly went to very dirty ways she could take care of herself, like letting me watch as she got herself off.
Except before I could suggest it, there was a knock on the door. Brooke went rigid, and I went still, trying to use my powerful hearing to pick up anything.
“Take your bag into the bathroom and get dressed, sugar,” I said, dropping my arms from her and going to the door. If we had to run, I wasn’t having her do that in a robe.
Through the peephole, I saw a man. Even distorted, I could tell he was big. Broad. He wasn’t dressed like the last man who’d knocked on the door, the big fucker who’d been after Brooke. Then I caught his scent, even through the closed door. I didn’t know who the hell he was or why he was here, but I did know one thing.
He was a shifter.
16
ROY
* * *
I opened the door but didn’t let the wolf enter. I was only in a towel, but I didn’t give a shit.
I took him in. Jeans, white button-up, sport coat. His hair was dark and threaded with gray. His eyes were sharp and keen, as if he’d seen a lot and done a hell of a lot more, some of it not good. Some of it probably scarred your soul.
I knew because I saw the same thing every time I looked in the mirror.
“Mark Ruhl. DEA. Rob Wolf shared where to find you.”