With shaking hands, Trees opened Ramos’s photos—and immediately hit pay dirt. The last thing saved was the video Laila had sent to convince him that she was Ramos’s willing whore.

  He pressed the button to launch it. Instantly, the screen filled with a familiar scene—the cheap motel room, the slightly yellowing sheets, the ugly brown and blue bedspread, not to mention a naked Laila. But the footage he was seeing? She hadn’t sent this to him when she’d emailed and told him to kiss off.

  In this version, Ramos wore his boxers and stumbled onto the bed drunkenly, holding a nearly empty bottle of tequila in one hand. Some sloshed on her neck and shoulder. He laughed, pouncing toward her, the view wobbling as he flattened her against the mattress. “What’s with the camera, chiquita?”

  As he leered toward her neck, Laila called to him, her voice sultry. “I am going to film us, like you used to.”

  Ramos lifted his head with a loopy, smug leer. “I recorded hours and hours of you screaming for me. I watched them often for my pleasure.” He sucked in a hissing breath. “Your fear makes me hard.”

  “I know,” she breathed like she was entranced, like she wanted his degradation and pain.

  Trees wanted to hurl.

  “Hold the phone out. Make sure you capture all the ways I’m going to fuck you.”

  Instantly, she complied, positioning the camera arm’s length from them, pulling the sheet up to their waists, covering the fact that Ramos was dry humping her thigh.

  Then she suddenly smiled for the camera, looking heavy lidded and aroused. Her expression sent an electric ping of recognition through Trees. It was the same come-hither glance he’d seen in the first frame of the video she’d sent.

  Screw upchucking the contents of his stomach. He wanted to hurl this phone across the room, beat the ever-loving fuck out of Ramos, then lay into Laila for lying to him yet again. Then he apparently needed to beat his own ass for believing her.

  “Chiquita,” he growled. “I want that pussy.”

  “It is here for you. Like I am.” She rolled her head to one side, eyes closed in ecstasy, offering Ramos her neck.

  “Hmm…yes.” He bounced on top of her like they were fucking. “Good little puta.”

  Trees froze the video, took it back a few seconds, and replayed the frames. But he hadn’t missed anything. The first time he’d watched this footage, he’d been convinced Ramos and Laila were having dirty, raunchy, very consensual sex. But clearly Ramos was still wearing his boxers and treating her thigh like his bitch.

  “Damn it,” Trees muttered.

  Laila had intentionally led him to believe she and Ramos were fucking.

  Because she was trying to convince you not to come to her rescue? Because she wanted to protect you?

  He wasn’t sure, so he continued the torment of watching.

  On the video, Laila moaned in answer. “For you? Always.”

  Victor gave her hair a vicious tug and sank his teeth into her shoulder hard like she was a piece of prime meat he intended to chew up and swallow down.

  Laila cried out. “Yes!”

  “Mine.”

  Laila gave another heavy-lidded glance toward the camera. “Yours.”

  That’s where the video she’d sent him ended. But it wasn’t ending now. There was almost a minute more.

  Starting with Laila groping around on the mattress for Ramos’s empty tequila bottle. She lifted it and bonked him over the head.

  Trees reared back. He hadn’t seen that coming. Why would Laila try to knock him out if she wanted him to fuck her?

  In response, Ramos stiffened, lifted his head, and glared at her, his narrowed stare suddenly vowing retribution.

  With a gasp, Laila dropped the phone. All Trees could see was the peeling, water-stained ceiling, but he could hear plenty, starting with the sound of her choking.

  “You want to play rough, bitch?” Ramos growled.

  The sounds of Laila fighting him, grunting and struggling, her screams suppressed by what Trees suspected were the asshole’s hands around her throat made him beyond furious. She didn’t actually enjoy scum like Ramos damn near choking the life out of her, right?

  Seconds later, he heard what sounded like the bottle against someone’s skull again. Then Laila coughed and gasped, audibly dragging air into her starved lungs.

  “Cabrón.” Had that noise been her spitting on Ramos? “I hate you. You will never touch me again. Never!”

  Her words rang like a solemn promise.

  Suddenly, Laila grabbed the phone, looking shaken and angry. The device wobbled in her hands before he got a flash of Ramos unmoving, face down across the mattress, with his pale backside in the air and his boxers haphazardly halfway to his knees.

  The video ended there.

  Holy. Motherfucking. Shit.

  Trees sat back, his thoughts racing. But they all circled back to one conclusion: Laila had been telling the truth in the dungeon. She had altered the clip she’d emailed him to convince him she was Ramos’s willing lover. So he wouldn’t try to save her while he was injured.

  He was done questioning her and her loyalties because every betrayal he’d believed had clearly been a lie. She really had been trying to protect him.

  And what had he done in return? Accused her of deceit, denied her at least half a dozen orgasms, then left her all alone, aroused and shaking.

  Fuck.

  Now what?

  Trees stood and scrubbed a hand down his face. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to say, but he needed to see Laila right now.

  The hissing of the dungeon door’s seal decompressing brought Laila’s head snapping around. She gathered the blanket tighter around her naked body with one hand and wiped the tears from her eyes with the other. Trees had made his feelings clear. He no longer wanted her. He cared for her now only as the body he had been paid to guard. She had hurt him too much, and she understood. Since she had never once had anything remotely like a boyfriend, what did she know of relationships? Of course she had screwed everything up.

  Now she had to face his repudiation. He would separate them in all ways except proximity.

  Despite the fact Laila knew his rejection was coming, it was crushing her.

  Trees’s big feet were surprisingly light on the stairs as he descended. She sipped more of her water as she watched him appear. First, his boots became visible, then his muscled legs, clad in denim. Next, his narrow hips, followed by his lean, corrugated middle, obvious even through his T-shirt.

  Laila’s heart began to race. As always, being near him thrilled her, but this time she feared the harsh words he would use to dismiss her.

  When she caught sight of his massive shoulders and the dark tip of his close-cropped beard, she lost her nerve to meet his gaze and bowed her head.

  In the past, she had stared down drug lords, murderers, and rapists without flinching because she hadn’t cared what they did. They could hurt her body—and had many times. But they had never touched her heart.

  With one sentence, Trees could utterly decimate her.

  Suddenly, the half of a protein bar she had choked down earlier churned in her stomach, threatening to come back up. Her heart hammered faster, louder, filling her ears when he loped off the last step and crossed the room toward her.

  “Laila?” His gruff whisper twisted her heart.

  She bit her bottom lip, trying so hard not to cry. She failed, tasting blood and defeat. God, she’d never felt more fragile in her life. “I am sorry. Please do not say anything. I know you despise me now and—”

  “Why the hell would you think that?” He hooked his fingers beneath her chin. She resisted, but he forced her face up.

  Laila squeezed her eyes shut tighter, but nothing would hide the fact she was crying. “Do not look at me. I know you are angry, and I bear the responsibility for—”

  “Shh.” He caressed her face so softly, his thumb brushing over her cheek, wiping away her tears. “Listen to me. I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t believe you. I didn’t trust you. I tormented you for answers. I was wrong.” He kissed her forehead so softly he made her sob again. “Hey… No more crying. I hate that I hurt you.”

  She pressed his words into her heart. “Please do not tell me what you think I want to hear. I do not want your pity.”

  Trees cupped her face, his touch beyond gentle…but a hint of his other side, the one that had mercilessly strummed her body less than an hour ago, rang in his words. “I don’t pity you, honey. I’m apologizing to you. Now open your eyes and look at me.”

  Laila resisted, but everything about Trees compelled her to comply.

  Slowly, her lashes fluttered open. He filled her vision, his expression achingly soft, his eyes full of remorse. More tears spilled down her cheeks.

  “You believe me?” The question slipped out, and a foolish part of her wished she could take it back. The hopeful, headstrong girl inside her who had faced so much of life alone wanted him forever. But the woman in her—the realist—took over. “Never mind. You do not have to—”

  He placed a finger over her lips. “Yes, I do. I’m sorry, Laila. I fucked up. I was an asshole, and I have no problem admitting it. I hope you can forgive me.”

  “I-I do not understand.”

  “I saw the full video of you and Victor on his phone, including the parts you cut off, so I know what really happened. I know the lengths you went to in order to save me. I’m just sorry I didn’t believe you.”

  Laila felt her eyes widen—and hope fill her heart…even as it shattered. “I had given you no reason to. I only meant to protect you, but…”

  “I know you did.” His expression gentled even more. “You risked everything to keep me safe, the way you do for your family. And I love you for that.”

  “I have seen Victor and his minions kill people horribly for even the smallest slight, so after you killed his brother and risked everything to protect me, I shudder to imagine what he would do to you. I do not want to live in a world without you.”

  “Oh, honey…you don’t have to.” Then he scowled at her. “But if you ever sacrifice yourself for me again like that, I will make the orgasm deprivation you suffered tonight seem like an easy-breezy paradise—right before I blister your ass. Are we clear?”

  She looked away again, trying to understand her two very different reactions. Her feverish body, desperate for the relief only he could give her, flushed hot and began to throb. Why she should be aroused by his threats of punishment was something she still did not comprehend.

  Right behind that response came the opposite reaction. Giving up wasn’t in her vocabulary, mostly because she knew they weren’t out of danger. They might never be. If cutting out her heart and leaving him now would keep Trees safe and alive, Laila would do it. But he was in too deep. Both Victor and Montilla knew he was involved. She and Trees were safer together. And it was selfish, some part of her was glad.

  “You expect me to do nothing because I am female? Because I am smaller?” She shook her head. “If I can save you, I always will.”

  Trees sighed. “I know you’re a fighter. You’ve had to be. But it’s my role to save you.” When she opened her mouth to rebut him, he held up a hand. “How about I make you a deal? If I need rescuing and no one else can do it, you can—as long as you don’t put yourself in danger, okay? And if you ever concoct another scheme to put down the bad guys, talk to me first. Your plan might have succeeded if you’d had trained operatives, backup, weapons, equipment… But you’re never my first line of defense. Do you understand?”

  It went against her grain to back down, but Laila grasped what he was saying. He had a whole team behind him, and as a well-trained warrior, he wanted to do his job. He was merely asking her to respect that.

  “Yes.”

  His smile transformed his face and brightened up her world. “Good. Now come here to me.”

  He scooped her up in his arms, blanket and all, and headed for the stairs.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to take care of you, honey. The way I should have all along.” He nudged the door open wider with his shoulder, ducking to avoid the hanging rack in his closet, and kicked the opening closed behind them. Then he carried her through his bedroom, to the dining room table, where he set her in a chair, wrapped the blanket tighter to ward off the chill, and dropped a soft kiss to her lips. “First, I’m going to feed you.”

  “That is not necessary.”

  Trees sent her a quelling stare. “It is. You’ve barely eaten. What sounds good?”

  The fact he wanted to feed her, nurture and take care of her choked her up. No one had done that for her since childhood. The pesky tears stung her eyes again. “Whatever you want.”

  He came closer, brows a disapproving slash as he crouched beside her. “It’s not about me. Right now, I’m here for you, and you deserve to have what you want. Tell me.”

  Despite the blanket, she was cold to the bone. Tired, too. She wanted something warm and comforting. “Soup?”

  “What kind? Everything I have will come out of a can, but…” He poked his head in his pantry and rattled off more than a dozen flavors.

  “Gumbo. I have never had that.”

  Trees smiled. An hour ago, when he had been withholding orgasms and demanding answers, he had looked intimidating, severe…yet so sexy her body ached. Now, the warm welcome on his face sent her heart fluttering.

  “Until I moved here, I’d never had it, either,” he told her in a conspiratorial murmur. “The stuff out of a can is passable. If you like that, someday I’ll take you to a restaurant I’ve found that makes downright amazing gumbo.”

  Would they be together that long? Would they even be alive? Would it be safe enough to go on something like a date?

  Laila shook the question away. He was merely making small talk, so she nodded and smiled. “I would enjoy that. Where did you live before here? What was your family like?”

  He paused, looking reluctant. It was odd that she knew Trees’s capabilities, habits, and predilections but nothing about his past.

  “I’m from West Virginia. Grew up dirt poor. A coal miner’s kid, the oldest of eight. I’m not close to my family.”

  “Why?”

  “We…drifted apart, I guess. My parents were always working to make ends meet and raise my siblings. Not much else to say.” He shrugged. “I left when I joined the service at eighteen. That’s where I met Zy. We went through some really hairy shit together, both on US soil and overseas. I eventually got out, heard about this private security firm in Lafayette that needed a tech guy, made a few calls…and here I am.”

  She got the feeling the story was more complicated, but that was another conversation for another day. While they’d been talking, he’d heated up the gumbo in a saucepan and poured it in a bowl, then shaken some chips from a bag onto a side plate. He brought the food to her, along with a spoon, followed by a napkin and another bottle of water.

  As the soup steamed, he tossed together a sandwich. “Eat up, little one. Want some roast beef, too?”

  “No, thank you.” She dipped her spoon in the dark reddish broth and tried a bite full of chicken, rice, and tang. Flavor burst on her tongue. It was spicy, but different than the foods she’d grown up with.

  “You like it?”

  “Very much.”

  He carried his sandwich to the table and sat beside her, then he dragged her chair closer. As she yelped, he lifted her onto his lap and maneuvered her food in front of her.

  “What are you doing?” She turned to him in confusion.

  Trees wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her bared shoulder. “Holding you and keeping you warm. Eat up.”

  Laila didn’t protest, just dug into her food, wrapped in his warmth and their oddly comfortable silence. Soon, he’d consumed his whole sandwich, along with an orange he grabbed off the nearby counter. She had barely managed half her soup and a few bites of chips before she felt full.

  When she pushed her bowl away, he cradled her closer. “Full?”

  His voice rumbled in her ear, and she settled her head against him, eyes drifting shut in contentment. “Yes.”

  “Good.” He stood, lifting her with him, then headed for his bedroom.

  She froze. “Are you returning me to the dungeon?”

  “No. I’m taking care of you tonight. No man ever has. I’d like to be the first.”

  He was going to make her cry again. Every time she thought he couldn’t make her love him more, he did. “What about the dishes?”

  “I’ll do them later. And don’t you dare try that BS of bartering for your food.”

  Without meaning to, her refusal to owe him had insulted him. Since Laila couldn’t take it back, she merely shook her head. “Not a word. Thank you.”

  Trees carried her into the master bathroom and set her on her feet. “You’re welcome.”

  Then he took her face in his hands and kissed her softly, removing the blanket from around her shoulders and tossing it out the door and across his massive bed. She stood naked, still aware of her cheeks heating, her nipples pebbling, her sex throbbing as Trees consumed her visually. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking care of what’s mine, Laila.” Then he turned on the faucet in the enormous shower and shed his clothes one garment at a time, his eyes never leaving hers, until he wore absolutely nothing but a smile.

  Blinking, she drank in his shoulders that were nearly as wide as the doorframe, tapering down to his ridged middle, narrow hips, and strong, tree-trunk legs. The thick stalk of his cock in between stood tall, almost imposing. He was a big man, so it was no surprise he was large everywhere. But he still took her breath away.

  “Trees…” She wrapped her fingers around his erection.

  He shook his head as he took her wrist and lifted her hand away. “No, I’m taking care of you. Step in.”