Owned (Office Intrigue Book 8) Nicole Edwards (classic english novels TXT) 📖

could see on his face. His gas-flame blue eyes blazed, and it appeared I was the target.

“Who is she?” Trent demanded, his gaze shifting between me and Braelyn, where I still held her, cupping her head, holding her tight, keeping her face averted from him.

“Not your concern.”

“If this involves Ransom, it’s damn sure my concern.”

Braelyn instantly pulled back, her attention darting to Trent. “You know my brother?”

Trent’s expression sobered as the information sank in. The incredulity in his words was unmistakable when he asked, “Ransom’s your brother?”

Braelyn nodded.

Trent, slack-jawed and still staring, said, “I … yes, I know him.”

It was then Braelyn’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “Oh, my God. You’re…”

I exhaled heavily. We had no time for her to go all fangirl over the Hollywood superstar. “Braelyn Bishop, meet Trent Ramsey. Trent, Braelyn.”

“What’s wrong?” Trent asked, speaking directly to her.

“We were getting to that,” I told him, turning so that I stood between Braelyn and Trent. I tilted her chin back, studied her tear-streaked face.

“Talk to me.”

“He…” Braelyn sobbed, her amber gaze locking with mine. “I … I got away. But …” More sobs. “He knows where I live.”

“Who?”

Now she was sobbing too much to speak, so I pulled her close again, offered a reassuring, “Shh. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

There was more sniffling, a few more shudders, followed by, “God, you smell good.”

I was almost certain that was a chuckle that sounded from behind me, but I ignored it.

Pulling back, I peered down at her, unable to hide my smile. Her eyes were wide, the horror on her face amusing because it had replaced the true fear I’d witnessed moments ago.

“I’m so sorry,” she rushed to say. “I can’t believe I said that.”

“Don’t be sorry.” I slid my fingers along the side of her neck, curling my thumb beneath her chin, nudging her head up so we maintained eye contact.

It was only then that I gave her a good once-over. She looked as though she was dressed for bed. The too-large gray sweatpants all but swallowed her up. And the threadbare cotton shirt had seen better days. No doubt it had done nothing to shield her from the below-freezing temperatures we were experiencing.

But it was the fact she did not have on shoes that worried me most.

My gaze lifted back to her face. “How did you get here?”

She frowned, her eyes, the majestic color of liquid amber, locking with mine. “I … ran.”

Stepping back, I considered her. “What do you mean you ran? From where?”

“My apartment.” Her lips pursed. “It wasn’t that far.”

And that was the first lie she told me. I knew where she lived, and it damn sure wasn’t just around the corner as she would like me to believe.

“Why didn’t you call for an Uber?”

Her eyebrow cocked, the first hint of defensiveness showing. “I don’t have my phone.”

Nodding toward her socked feet, I asked, “And why didn’t you bother with shoes?”

Her answer came in the form of a head shake.

I turned to Trent. “Find her some dry socks.”

I could tell he wasn’t impressed with the command, but I didn’t much care. Braelyn had trekked what I guesstimated to be ten miles in the ice and snow. The least she deserved was dry fucking socks.

When he slipped out of the room, I turned to Braelyn. “Tell me what happened.”

Her lips started to move but no words came out. She took a deep breath, but rather than answer, she grumbled, “Fuck,” seconds before she began pacing. But not before a few more tears spilled over.

Then the opportunity to pull her into my arms was gone because she was on the move.

Although I was strangely fascinated by this woman, wanted to soothe her in a way I’d never wanted to soothe another, my patience was wearing thin. It was imperative I determined where Ransom might be. Whether she knew it or not, her brother was likely in more trouble than he’d anticipated. Or maybe more than I had anticipated considering he had been insistent I act sooner rather than later.

The door opened, momentarily distracting her, when Trent came back in. He tossed a pair of men’s socks in my direction. I caught them, tucking them into my pocket for the time being.

“Oh, God,” Braelyn said on a hiccuping sob.

Remembering Trent was watching us, I calmed myself, shifted into my commanding voice. “Miss Bishop, you need to tell me what happened. Now.”

My abrupt declaration had her spinning around to face me, her fastidious marathon coming to an abrupt halt. When she did, I reached for the upholstered chair near the antique writing desk in the corner, dragged it to the center of the room. With firm hands and clipped movements, I sat her in place, then squatted down in front of her.

Hoping to give her a moment to collect herself, I gently slid the drenched socks from her feet, tossed them aside before sliding the clean, dry ones on. Every so often, I would peer up at her to see her watching me. Her eyes were wide, both with shock and fear, but I ignored the emotions her tears stirred, focused on what I could do, which was help her find her brother.

When I had finished my task, I lifted my gaze to hers. “What. Happened?”

That seemed to cut through the emotional turmoil. “He came for me. Just like Ransom feared he would. I was supposed to be careful… Our past… It caught up to us.” She breathed in deep, seemed to swallow the tears. “He… He came for me. Just barged right in.”

“Who?”

“Jimmy.”

“Jimmy who?”

Braelyn shrugged, taking a deep breath. “I have to find my brother, make sure he’s okay.”

“I saw him a short time ago,” I assured her.

“Are you sure?”

I smiled. I couldn’t recall the last time someone had doubted me.

“I’m positive.”

“I did, too,” Trent said, moving closer. “I can go look for him if you’d like.”

“He left,” I told them both.

I decided to make an attempt to call him. Perhaps Ransom had simply