She gave a quick jerk of her chin, but her face was still too pale. “I should’ve called, but—”

“No. It’s okay. Did you call the police?” When she nodded, he cursed again. “Did they just take a report?”

“Yes. I told them about the letters and my car, but there’s really nothing they could do at the moment and I couldn’t—”

“Go back to the hotel?”

She blinked. “How…how did you…? Of course,” she said numbly. “You’ve been watching me.”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you. There’s a difference.”

Several moments passed as she seemed to let that sink in. “I didn’t know what to do.” She drew in a deep breath that shuddered through her frame. “I don’t have anyone else…” She trailed off, clamping her lips tightly together and shaking her head.

“Fuck, Alana. I told you not to stay in your apartment. You could’ve been home when—”

“I know. I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to…”

Admit that there wasn’t anyone she could go to. Shaking his head, he looked away for a second. Truth was, she could’ve just been honest, but she was too damn stubborn for that.

“Are you sure you’re okay? No one was there when you showed up?”

She shook her head.

Apprehension flipped to anger in less than a second. Partly due to the fact that someone had been in her apartment again and also partly toward himself. He should’ve fucking tailed her tonight.

Alana drew in a shallow breath, drawing his stare. “Everything was destroyed, Chandler—my couch, curtains, furniture, and clothes. Food was pulled out of the fridge, emptied all over the floors and my bed.” She broke off suddenly, her eyes blinking furiously. “Everything. Looked like someone took a knife to it. I have rental insurance, but to do all that? And the letters—I left them in the file on my desk. They were gone.”

At the sight of her valiantly holding back tears, something unhinged in his chest. Alana was strong and stubborn, but through the course of his career, he’d seen people break over less things. Having her home broken into repeatedly and having her personal items destroyed was enough to put anyone in shock, especially someone like Alana, who would try to control the path of a tornado.

Something like this sent a clear message: the perpetrator was the only one in control. It also said that the person had moved beyond harmless threats. Someone wanted to scare Alana badly enough to send her running, something he doubted she did often, and he’d succeeded.

The woman looked like her legs would give out on her at any moment. The urge to take her into his arms hit him hard. He wanted to hold her. More than that, he wanted to protect her. That sudden need went beyond his job, but he resisted. Something told him that she would most likely react like a wild animal cornered if he did pull her into an embrace.

“Come on,” he said quietly. Taking her arm in a gentle grasp, he led her into the living room so she could sit.

His brother’s brows nearly reached his hair as he watched Chandler guide a quiet Alana to the edge of the couch. She tucked her hands between her knees, but he could still see them trembling.

A feeling of helplessness assaulted him, a sensation he wasn’t used to at all. Chandler knew how to protect people. He made a living doing it, but so far, he’d done a piss-poor job of doing so.

Turning to his brother, he curled his hands into fists. “Can you go get us a glass of whiskey?”

Chase opened his mouth but closed it and then left to do his bidding. Very wise decision, because if any bullshit comment came out of his mouth about Alana, he would lay him out on his fucking back. Brother or not.

Alana’s eyes followed Chase’s retreating form. “He doesn’t understand why I’m here.”

“Fuck him.”

Her gaze bounced back to his. “Really?”

“Yep.” He sat in front of her on the coffee table. “This is my house, so fuck him.”

A dry laugh came from her. “I really am sorry. I just didn’t know what to do. Seeing all my stuff destroyed like that?” She bit down on her lip and closed her eyes briefly. When they reopened, her stare fixed over his shoulder.

Chase returned with a glass of amber liquid. Chandler didn’t give him the chance to hand it to her. Intercepting the glass, he waited until Alana lifted her hands. “Drink this,” he ordered, somewhat surprised when she obeyed.

Alana took a huge gulp and immediately sputtered.

“Slowly.” Chandler chuckled. “It’s a bit strong.”

“Yeah,” she muttered, taking another tiny sip.

Chase lingered by them, his brows pinched. “Is everything okay?”

He opened his mouth, but Alana lifted her gaze. “Yes. Everything is fine. I’m just…” She took another sip, her stare once more fixing over Chandler’s shoulder. “Chad’s playing?”

Both men looked behind them, forgetting what they were watching. Chase folded his arms. “Yes. He’s in Atlanta.”

Her knuckles were bleached white from how tight she was holding the glass. “How is he? And Bridget?”

Chandler knew what she was doing. Redirecting the questions. He’d humor her. “They’re doing great. Thanks to you.”

His brother opened his mouth again, but Chandler cut him off with a warning glare. “How’re the wedding plans going?” she asked, oblivious to the brothers’ silent exchange.

Chase cleared his throat. “It’s going.”

“They plan to marry in June,” Chandler said, giving a little more detail. He ignored the way his brother stiffened. Damn it, he was starting to get pissed. Yes, Alana hadn’t gone easy on Chad and had blackmailed Bridget, but she wasn’t a fucking terrorist hell-bent on destroying their lives. “I think they’re planning to hold off on the honeymoon until after the season’s over.”

“That makes sense.” She finished off the whiskey, staring at the screen. “That’s all…very nice. They make such a great couple.”

Ten levels of awkward silence descended on the room, and anyone with an ounce of common sense would’ve bounced by now, but Chase looked like he was glued to his spot. Turning to his brother, Chandler pinned him with a look until Chase rolled his eyes.

“Okay. Well, I’m going to go get some ginger ale and crackers.” Chase headed toward the dining room, stopping long enough to look back at Chandler. “I’ll be calling.”

Chandler ignored him, taking the glass from her hands. “How are you feeling? You were looking a little wobbly out there.”

“I’m fine.” She smiled, but it was painfully forced. “Ginger ale and crackers?”

“Maddie is sick.” He caught himself, probably realizing she didn’t know who he was talking about. “Madison Daniels. She’s—”

“I know who she is. All of you were really close with her family, correct?”

He nodded slowly, leaning forward until his knees pressed into hers. “The Danielses are the only family my brothers and I really claimed. We spent most of our youth with them. In reality, they basically raised the three of us, plus Maddie and her brother.”

“I was raised by my grandmother. My mom wasn’t fit to raise me. She was… Well, she had issues.” Her features pinched, as she appeared to realize the little piece of knowledge she’d shared. She lifted a hand to her hair, smoothing the tiny strands. He caught it on the way down, capturing her much smaller hand between his. She jerked back but couldn’t pull free. “What are you doing?”

“Your hand is ice cold, Alana.”

She wet her lips, and his eyes zeroed right in on that. Despite how obviously stressed she was, his cock swelled in response. He wanted to taste those lips with his tongue.

He wanted to taste a lot of her.

But that, unfortunately, was going to have to wait.

Lifting his gaze to hers, he held her stare as he picked up her other hand. Capturing them both, he slowly rubbed them between his, warming them up. “What kind of issues?”

Her dark eyes were unfocused behind the glasses. “What?”

One side of his lips tipped up. “Your mother. What kind of issues did she have?”

Color invaded her cheeks and a bit of sharpness returned to her gaze. “That’s a personal question.”

“You brought it up.” He slid his hands up, his fingers reaching under the cuffs of her suit jacket. “Don’t blame me.”

She held his stare and several seconds passed. “She had a drinking problem. And a drug problem. And a boyfriend problem.”

“That’s a lot of problems,” he murmured, admittedly surprised. For some reason, he’d pictured Alana coming from a two-parent household. Stiff. Logical. A bit boring, but a fully functional family nonetheless. “Our mother had a drinking and prescription pill problem. Father also had a girlfriend problem.”

“That had to be tough. The girlfriend problem, considering he was married.”

He smirked. “It was.”

Alana’s gaze finally flickered away, and her lashes lowered. For a moment, she sat there, letting him rub her hands. They were warm by now, but he couldn’t make himself stop. Her skin was soft, her hands delicately formed. Didn’t take any stretch of imagination to picture the rest of her body as beautifully formed.

“And that doesn’t bother you?” she asked quietly.

Shrugging a shoulder, he spread his thighs a little, giving himself room. How he could still be hard talking about this shit was beyond him. “Did it suck for our mom and us as kids? Fuck yes, it did, but that’s the way life is sometimes. It messed with Chase and Chad a little.”

“But not you?”

“People get married when they shouldn’t. They settle because they think they need to or it’s what’s expected from them. It happens every day, several times a day. Two people come together who shouldn’t stay together. I’m smart enough to realize that there are cases where people meet and they should be together and just because my parents fucked up their lives, it doesn’t mean I will or should.” He paused but kept his hands moving over hers. “It is what it is.”