LITMIR.BIZ

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      He put a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Don’t give me the therapist speak, Brynn. Sure, shit like this can screw with your mind, but it also can bring things into laser-sharp focus, make you realize what’s really important. Can you look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me back? That you don’t feel more alive when we’re together? Because that’s what you do for me.”

      She swallowed hard, the duct tape holding together her fractured emotions threatening to bust apart. “I can’t… do this right now.”

      She moved to get off the bed, but he grabbed her arm, his grip firm and his eyes blazing with determination. “You will not run from me, Brynn. Not again. You look at me and tell me the truth.”

      She stilled, staring at his hand on her, then looked him dead in the eye and said the only thing she knew would free them both. “Texas.”

      The hurt that crossed his face ripped her guts out, but she pasted on her stoic therapist mask—the only thing that saved her from falling to her knees in a broken heap of emotion. The sights and sounds of the rooms seemed to grind to slow motion, and the fight left Reid’s body. His hand slipped from her arm and he nodded.

      Without another word, she rose off the bed and walked out the room, the tears falling as soon as she shut the door behind her.

TWENTY-FOUR

       now

      Reid glanced up as Jace pulled open the sliding glass doors and sauntered onto Reid’s backyard deck like he owned the place. “You know, knocking before you come into somebody’s house is usually customary.”

      Jace grinned and handed Reid a beer. “I forgot. That head injury has made my memory shit.”

      He snorted. “Right. Is that what you’re telling the girls you date when you forget their names?”

      Jace laughed and sank into the lawn chair next to him. “The benefits of being hit in the head are vast. Although, it won’t impress women nearly as much as surviving a gunshot wound to save a damsel in distress.”

      Reid closed the file he’d been working on and took a sip of beer. “Yeah, I’d have to leave out the part about her saving my ass right back.”

      “Have you talked to her?”

      He stared off in the direction of the setting sun, frowning. “No. Not since the hospital.”

      And it was killing him. Brynn had been through her worst nightmare, and knowing she was facing all those demons alone kept him awake at night.

      But she’d walked away. Didn’t love him enough to try. Some things he couldn’t command. No matter how much he wanted to.

      Jace considered him, his normal humor gone from his face. “What happened in there?”

      He sighed. “I told her I loved her.”

      “And?”

      “And she used her safe word.”

      Jace winced. “Fucking brutal.”

      Reid ran a hand over the back of his neck, wiping the sweat that had gathered there. “She’s terrified, man. That sadistic asshole fucked with her head, and now she’s convinced being with someone like me will rehash that terror every time I touch her. She was so close to pushing past her fear when we were at The Ranch, and now she’s scrambling backward.”

      Jace’s tone hardened. “Makes me wish we could bring that fucker Davis back from the dead, just so we could have the pleasure of killing him ourselves. Slowly.”

      “No shit.” He swigged his beer. “And this giving her space thing is driving me nuts. I wake up every damn day ready to pound on her door, throw her over my shoulder, and cuff her to me until she gives me another chance.”

      Jace shrugged. “So why don’t you?”

      He shot his friend a don’t-be-a-stupid-asshole glare.

      Jace leaned forward, his forearms braced against his thighs. “Look, I’m not saying you actually kidnap her. But, whether Brynn wants it or not, she responds to submission—to you. She was so scared when I was getting her ready at The Ranch. I thought for sure she’d bail before the word ‘go,’ but as soon as she was with you, she relaxed and, unless she’s the best actress ever, enjoyed it. You need to remind her how it can be with someone who’s there for her pleasure not pain. Chase away the ugly associations she has about it by giving her a taste of your dominance again.”

      Reid shook his head. “She’ll just run farther away.”

      “Maybe, maybe not. And she can’t run too far—you’ll be back in the office with her on Monday.”

      Reid gave a noncommittal grunt. He hadn’t told Jace, but he’d be looking for a new place to move his office to on Monday. No way would he be able to see Brynn every day knowing he couldn’t have her. Masochism was not his kink.

      Jace set his bottle down, his expression brightening. “All right, enough of this, I’ve got an idea.”

      Reid shot him a wary look. “Dangerous words coming from you.”

      “No, I’m serious. We’re not doing anyone any good sitting here having a fuck-my-life conversation. And it’s time for you to stop doing the hermit thing.”

      Reid tilted his bottle back. “I think the hermit lifestyle suits me. I’d look good with a beard.”

      He shook his head. “No. Three weeks of house arrest is long enough. It’s Friday night, your shoulder sling is off—we should go do something.” He checked his watch. “I have a friend whose band is playing tonight. Why don’t we grab a burger, then go to their show?”

      “Don’t you have a roommate you can drag to these things?”

      “The department switched Andre to the night shift. Plus, he hates hard rock.”

      “I don’t think—”

      Jace hopped from his chair. “I’m changing that from a request to an order. You owe me.”

      “Seriously?” Reid cocked an eyebrow. “You’re ordering me around? That head injury really did do some damage.”

      He crooked a thumb toward the house. “Come on, don’t be a douche. Go get showered and changed. I’ve seen homeless people who look better than you.”

      Reid flipped him off, but rose from his chair. Maybe Jace was right. He’d done nothing but work on Hank’s case and worry about Brynn since he’d come home from the hospital. Maybe getting out of the house would help his sour mood. He headed into the house, Jace hot on his heels. He glanced over his shoulder. “Where are you going?”

      “To help myself to the rest of your beer supply.”

      Reid walked into the nightclub already itching to leave. After three weeks of holing up in his quiet house, the blinking lights and heavy rock beat overloaded his senses. He pulled at the sleeve of his black T-shirt, the snug fit irritating the healing bullet wound. Jace clapped him on his good shoulder. “Come on, there’s a table over there, next to the dance floor.”

      Super. Just what he wanted to watch all night—happy couples having vertical sex.

      He followed Jace, sank into one of the modern leather chairs, and prepared to brood. As soon as he could wrangle a waitress, he ordered a stiff drink and started his mental clock. One hour, and then he was leaving. His indebtedness to Jace only went so far.

      Once the drinks arrived and he had sufficiently drained his and ordered another, he leaned toward Jace. “Who do you know in the band?”

      Jace

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