5
Colton
The gun is cold and heavy, and I scowl as I turn it over in my hands. Surprisingly, given my background and my career before I moved into education, I only keep one gun in my house. It’s typically always locked in the safe hidden in my office, but tonight, it’s out. Tonight, I’m giving it a once-over, and checking my ammunition while Brynn is back in my kitchen having a bite to eat.
I’m not scared, but maybe call it “on edge.” After all, I just beat the shit out of two mob guys, and threatened a third who seems like he might be pretty far up the ranks. None of them know who the hell I am, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful. And besides, they do know who she is, and I meant what I said before. She’s staying here, and she’s mine to protect. And I will protect her.
For a minute, as I check the chamber of the Desert Eagle, I’m back in Mosul. For a second, the study fades away, and I’m back with my unit getting ready for a night raid on a Taliban compound on the outskirts of the city. I blink, the memory fading as I finish checking the handgun and set it down on my desk.
I don’t have many flashbacks or memories these days of my Special Forces days. And it’s not something many people even know about. In fact, no one at Winchester does, that’s for sure. And that’s how I’d prefer to keep it. The past is the past, and the demons and darkness from that time in my life can stay there.
There’s a knock at the door to my study, and I swiftly re-wrap the gun in its cloth and place it back in the lock box.
“Come in.”
I lock up the box as the door opens, and Brynn steps in sheepishly as I smile and turn to place the box back in the safe. I swing the door shut and turn back to see her looking away.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude on anything.”
I smile, shrugging. “You aren’t. How was the sandwich?”
She grins. “So good. I haven’t had peanut butter and jelly in forever.”
“Hey, all part of the five-star service here.”
She giggles, and fuck does the sound of it get my pulse racing before I catch myself.
Stop that. I can’t go there, even in my fucking head, with her. Not with how old she is, or how old I am. Or the fact that she’s a student, or…
Well, the list of reasons not to flirt with or be anything but an authority figure to Brynn Henley is extensive, to say the least.
“Well, the service at hotel Kane is exquisite so far,” she beams. “I’ll be leaving a stellar Yelp review.”
I chuckle. “Thanks.” I nod at the fireplace on the other side of the room. “You want to talk about what’s going on?”
She nods quietly, and I pick up the remote from my desk and turn on the gas flames. Brynn’s got her tea still in her hands, that pink robe wrapped tight around her and her hair still wet, and I’m helpless to stop my eyes from following her hips as she steps across the room. I swallow back the thoughts in my head as I pour a splash of whiskey into a glass from the bar cart and follow her over, sitting in the chair across from her, the fireplace between us.
“What’s going on with your father?”
Her face darkens, her teeth raking her lip as she nods.
“He had this investment fund, but it turns out it’s not really an investment.”
I frown, and she smiles wryly. “Investments have returns.
“Ahh,” I nod. “Shit.”
“Yeah, shit.”
“How bad?”
She snorts, shaking her head and taking a sip of tea. “Really, really bad. I was visiting home a few weeks ago for my birthday—”
“Happy birthday, Brynn.”
She smiles shyly. “Thanks, Colton.”
Our eyes lock, and she blushes as she looks back at her tea.