Free The Drake House by Kelly Moran Page B

protocol.”
    “Protocol is whatever I say it is, son. And Trisha is no victim, trust me.”
    Steve hooted. “Ain’t that the truth.”
    “Now you can take me to see him.”
    Nick didn’t like it. He had sat in his car all night watching her house to make sure this jackass didn’t come back. He’d stood in her bedroom and waited for those brown eyes to clear after Mike knocked her unconscious, wincing himself for the bruised cheek. And now the woman wanted to go in the ring with him. “Fine, let’s go.”
    Trailing him through the back room and down the hallway, Trisha carried the bags she collected from Mike’s room. After silently unlocking the cell with a scowl, Nick swung the door open. “I’m watching.”
    “You do that.”
    She stepped to the door. Mike Peltzer was hunched over, his demeanor screaming defeat, remnants of alcohol lingering. She set the bags down outside of his cell. “I was packing your things earlier, Mike, and found no pictures or personal items.”
    His head whipped up. “What do you care, bitch.”
    Nick moved to the doorway with every intention of hauling her away when she whirled on him and shook her head. Gritting his teeth, he backed away.
    “You made a disaster of my home. You lost the respect of the men. You punched a woman for no reason other than you could. So this bitch cares.”
    Mike expelled a harsh sigh and crossed his arms.
    “Do you have any family, Mike?”
    Without looking at her, he muttered, “No.”
    Nick watched as Trisha tilted her head to the side and weariness clouded her eyes. Mesmerized by her tenacity and strength, he continued to watch the interaction, wondering where she was going with this line of questioning.
    “That’s a shame,” she said. “You have a drinking problem and need help.”
    When Mike’s eyes got that dangerous look to them again, Nick could see she was prepared for it.
    “You stay in your seat and listen to me,” she ordered. “These are your things. You have two choices, Mike. You can take these effects, move on, continue to be a drunken menace and ruin your life. Or, you can get help.”
    She took an unfaltering step toward him. Nick’s hand tensed on the bars.
    “Look at my face,” she said.
    Nick watched cautiously while Mike did as she asked.
    “I took you in, saw something in you. Go get it back again.” She stepped closer until she was right in front of him, nose to nose. “You see this bruise? Don’t ever do it again.”
    She stalked away from the cell, heading back to the administrative area. Nick’s jaw dropped. He was attempting to follow her when she barked, “Drop the charges.”
    ****
    “Trisha, wait!” Nick called after her, chasing her through the station house.
    “I have work to do, Nick. Let’s go.” Pushing through the door into the parking lot, she marched toward the car without bothering to turn around. She’d had enough of him for one day.
    Before she could lift the door handle and climb in the passenger seat, he was there with a hand on her arm. He spun her around. “What do you mean, drop the charges?” His eyes were molten—a fierce Irish storm.
    “I would think that was obvious.”
    There was satisfaction in seeing those heated eyes dilate as he took a step closer, pinning her to the car, challenging her. Now they were getting somewhere.
    “Why,” he clenched through gritted teeth.
    “Mike won’t hurt me again. He has the chance to make a solid choice now, everyone deserves that. Brad won’t let him get within ten feet of me anyway.”
    Dropping her arm, he instead placed both palms on either side of her against the car door and leaned in. “When I’m dating a woman, she doesn’t date anyone else. Maybe you care to explain why you are involved with both Brad and myself.”
    Oh, that’s it. Now she was seething. “I don’t need to explain anything to you. Our date was not what I wanted. It wasn’t even what you wanted. We had one meal together; that’s it. It was