Page 12 of Tice’s Kind of Trouble (Obsessive Protectors #2)

TWELVE

Tice

Bethany has the face of an angel—soft skin, dark lashes, sweet bow to her mouth.

Then there’s her rocking body.

The body that’s going to make me even more obsessive.

As if that’s possible.

Rubbing my hand up Bethany’s back, I listen to her soft breathing. She’s been out for an hour, tucked against my side. Safe.

I never want to move.

But my phone vibrates on the floor in the pocket of my discarded pants.

Fuck. I consider throwing it out the window.

If I try hard enough, it’ll hit the pool.

Momentarily, I’m satisfied at the idea of Kane—or whoever the hell is calling— never getting through.

Only then I remember it might be Chase. And he’s going to have information I fucking need to make sure Bethany stays safe.

“Be back, beautiful.” I kiss her cheek, slip out from beneath her leg, and tuck her in.

The phone is still vibrating by the time I pick it up.

I stare at her for a long moment, trying to convince myself this is real.

She’s here.

And she’s never leaving.

Scrubbing my hand over my face, I give myself a shake. Get the phone, Tice.

When I walk into the hallway, I lift it to my ear. “Chase, what ya got?”

“A name. Billy Evans. Ring any bells?”

“None. Who is the fucker?”

Chase makes a displeased sound—which says a lot. He’s more of a facts-before-emotions guy.

“He’s sort of a private investigator.”

This brings me up short. “What kind of PI breaks into a woman’s house while she’s there and leaves footprints all over the damned place?”

“He’s not really a PI, but people pay him to spy.”

“Who?” I demand, scrubbing a hand through my hair, already picturing some fucker who wants my Bethany as his own. Paying to know her secrets, her routine, her life.

“I want a name. And all addresses.”

“I’m working on it. But more importantly, you need to know this—Billy’s place was empty. Freshly so. Food on the counter. No maggots, I might add. But his essentials are gone. So he’s on the run. He must know someone’s onto him.”

I haven’t even made it to the end of the hallway and my temples are throbbing, my hand itching to find a weapon.

“Who hired him?”

“It’s cryptic bullshit. Some shell company.”

“Goddamnit, Chase. I need that information.”

“On it. But there’s more…”

I grip the phone harder. Chase wouldn’t be delivering this info the way he is unless he’s worried about me losing my shit .

“What?” I grit out, bracing.

“He must’ve forgotten some of his things in his haste to beat it out of town. Including a file on Bethany. A very extensive… file. And personal belongings that tell me he’s been in her house before.”

My head nearly explodes.

That motherfucker.

“What did he have?”

“I think these are her panties…”

I’ve never felt this kind of burning, murderous rage.

It claws up through my body—black, cold, and utterly feral.

“Find him, man. Deliver him to me.”

“I’m on it.”