Rafael Martinez

As soon as I walk into the house, I hear the unmistakable sound of paws rushing to greet me. Our three dogs appear the next second, and after nudging each other to get some affection behind the ears, they head back to the kitchen from where they came.

I follow close behind, knowing that wherever they're headed, Brooke will be there. The melancholic melody reaches me before I see her. The blonde has her hair tied in a ponytail and sways her body to the rhythm of the music, humming while stirring something in a pan with her back to me. The sadness in her voice shatters something inside me—it's pure pain, the kind she only allows herself to express when she believes she's completely alone.

The need to make her smile, to heal her heart, to make her forget the pain even for just a second is all I can think about as I approach.

"You’re gonna burn our dinner again, babygirl?" I tease, running my hand up the back of her neck and watching her skin shiver.

"It was one time, Rafael!" she protests, turning with a wooden spoon in hand. "And if I remember correctly, it was entirely your fault for distracting me," she accuses, pointing the spoon at me and splashing red sauce on my shirt.

"You didn’t complain about the distraction when my face was between your legs," I tease, watching her cheeks flush with my words. I place my hands on her waist and pull her close, kissing the tip of her nose.

"Get out of here," she smacks my shoulder but doesn’t move away—in fact, her body molds perfectly against mine.

"You sure you don’t need to be distracted today too?" I murmur, my lips hovering over hers.

She closes her eyes, and her lips part in a sigh—that’s all the invitation I need to close the small distance between us. I suck on her lips before letting my tongue explore every corner of her mouth.

The first touch of her tongue against mine sets my body on fire, my desire for her igniting instantly. Brooke kisses me back hungrily, tilting her head to deepen the kiss—but I want more. I need more of her, of her skin, of her taste.

My hands find her ass with ease, and I squeeze it, pulling Brooke onto my lap. Her legs wrap around my waist before I settle her against the kitchen counter. I hear the spoon clatter against the granite when she drops it to grab my neck and tug on my loose hair.

The jolt of pain runs down my spine, settling in my cock, already hard and aching to be buried deep inside her.

I trail kisses down her neck and onto her chest, grateful to the gods she’s wearing one of those strappy tops that offers no resistance. Her body writhes with pleasure under my touch. In these moments, when I have her in my arms, I can almost pretend she was never torn away from them. I drown in the feel of her soft skin against mine, in her floral scent, in the delicious sounds of pleasure escaping her throat.

I bite her collarbone lightly before lifting my face to look into the green depths of her lust-filled eyes.

"Thought you weren’t gonna get distracted," I tease, unable to hold back, and dodge the slap coming my way.

"And I said every time I get distracted it’s your fault," she counters before pulling my head back down to hers. Our lips crash together, but before I can deepen the kiss, she pushes me away and jumps off the counter. When I turn, I see a cloud of white smoke rising from the pan.

"This is your fault!" she scolds me.

"Leave it, babygirl, we can always order pizza," I say, wrapping my arms around her waist and rubbing my erection against her ass as I peek into the pan she’s now stirring frantically.

"No, I can fix it," she says, turning down the heat and facing me, raising her head to meet my eyes. "But not if you keep riling me up, so go find something to do." She shoos me out of the kitchen with a wave of her hands.

"What if I want to go hunt you instead?" I tease, leaning in and sucking on her lower lip before giving it a little bite.

"Then you’ll be going without dinner," she shoots back.

"I doubt that," I say, watching her raise an eyebrow as if daring me to continue. She should know better by now. "You’re a full-course meal, babygirl."

"You’re impossible," she grumbles, looking away.

"And you’re burning the food again," I mock.

"Shit, damn it, fuck, for fuck’s sake…" Her attention snaps back to the stove, her sudden shift in tone drawing the dogs’ attention—they lift their heads, looking from her to me.

I burst out laughing and get a deadly glare in return. I raise my hands in surrender and leave the kitchen. Adjusting my frustrated hard-on in my pants, her complaints follow me halfway down the hall, and I could swear I hear her say something to the dogs like, "Then it’s my fault, but how the hell am I supposed to concentrate with a man like that touching me?" At least that’s what I think she says, and the proud smile spreading across my lips only fades once I settle into my chair in the office, where my brothers are already waiting. The tension in the room is thick, and the moment I step in, it clings to me. My body stiffens as if preparing for battle.

Kyle nods in my direction and goes back to staring at our youngest brother, who’s sitting in the armchair beside me, reading some document with a furrowed brow.

"This can’t be right," Seth murmurs, placing the paper on the table.

"I’ve checked three times," the blond says, folding his hands on the table. His gaze falls on me, his tone hard when he continues, "Patrick hasn’t shown up to work in two months. The apartment he and Brooke shared is empty, and there’s no activity on his cards."

"You don’t actually think the stalker could be Patrick, do you?" I ask, disbelief coloring my voice. At first, when it became clear the stalker wasn’t connected to any of our former employees, Patrick did cross my mind, of course—but I had a reason for dismissing him.

"I wish I could say with absolute certainty that he’s not," Kyle replies, "but this is the first solid lead we’ve had in months."

"But we ran a full background check when they started seeing each other," I protest.

The search had covered everything—even the names of his kindergarten teachers. He wasn’t a threat. He didn’t deserve her, but we never considered he could harm her.

"I know, Raffi," Kyle says, frustration evident in the rhythm of his words. "But it’s extremely suspicious that he vanished right after the last letter from the stalker. And records can be altered—something’s very wrong here."

"I never liked that piece of shit anyway," I say. My mind replays every memory I have of the bastard, and my stomach churns at the thought of his filthy hands on Brooke.

Seth runs a hand down his face, exhaling loudly.

"That’s it, we need to tell her," his tone is like a funeral bell.

"No way," Kyle cuts in before the youngest even finishes.

"Be rational, brother," Seth fires back.

"As much as it pains me to agree, he’s right," I say.

The thought of making Brooke revisit the events from early summer makes my stomach turn. Guilt, concern, and helplessness twist inside me until a lump forms in my throat. But if it means giving her more protection and security, I have to swallow my pride and put her wellbeing first.

"You’ve all lost your minds," the blond snaps. "She doesn’t leave the house, she’s perfectly safe—no one can hurt her here." He gestures wildly around the room. "There’s no reason to worry her—we’re not even sure it’s him. The three of us can handle this," he insists, his words tumbling over each other, either trying to convince us—or himself.

"That’s what we said two months ago, and we’re no closer now than we were then," Seth says, clenching and unclenching his fists. "If the stalker is Patrick and Brooke sees him, she might let her guard down. So far he hasn’t shown violent tendencies, but that doesn’t guarantee he won’t snap after all this time watching and waiting."

"Besides, she needs to start going out again, Kyle," I add. "Brooke needs to regain her independence. We’re not helping by keeping her locked up here."

"She doesn’t want to go out, damn it!"

"When was the last time you asked her?" Seth challenges.

"She’s hanging by a thread, Thorne. She doesn’t sleep more than a couple hours, her nightmares are constant. She’s barely functioning. Summer’s practically over and she hasn’t surfed once—when’s the last time that happened?" The helplessness slices through me like a blade. The woman I love is suffering, and I can’t do anything. My gaze lands on Seth. "How did you do it?" I ask, meeting his confused blue eyes. "After Kandahar…" I clarify, and guilt floods me as I watch his expression harden, his jaw lock, his arms fall limply at his sides.

For the past few weeks, I’ve debated whether to ask him this, to drag our youngest brother back into that hellish place in his memory. But, unfortunately, he’s the only one who truly understands what Brooke is going through. What he lived through was exponentially worse, of course. Unlike the three days she suffered, the youngest had been held captive for ninety-seven. Seth breathes deeply a few times.

My instinct is to apologize, to tell him he doesn’t have to share if he’s not ready, to give him space like I always have…

"I'm going to resume your shooting training," I say, and Seth nods in agreement. She gradually returned to physical training with the youngest, but since we don't have a controlled environment at home for firearms practice, that part was put on hold. If I'm honest with myself, I was afraid to take her back—last time she shot a gun was when she killed that *hijo de puta* who had tortured her. I didn’t want to force her to confront that memory.

My attention shifts to Kyle, who slightly nods his head, and I smile. I’ve spent the last few days complaining about how he's been acting, and in my own way, I've been doing the same.

"And we won't always be able to be with her," Seth continues, looking from me to our brother. "Deep down, you know we’re right, even if you don’t want to admit it. I don’t like it any more than you do, but it’s better to be prepared than to live in an illusion."

The blond’s shoulders sag—I don't know if it's because of Seth’s words or the truth behind them that finally convinces him.

"I can’t lose her again," he confesses in a whisper I almost don’t hear. The feeling echoes inside me.

"We won’t," I reply at last. The conviction in my voice surprises even me. "Seth is right, we won’t always be able to be with her. After all, we have our jobs and she has hers, but we own the best security company in the country. Surely, one of our men can take on the role of her shadow when we can’t."