Destiny Calls by Samantha Wayland (100 best novels of all time TXT) 📗

Destiny took the chair beside McGuire, focusing on him, while Brandon stood behind her, their joined hands on her shoulder. She quickly described her encounter with the young zealot outside her office building.

He watched Carter"s face while they questioned her throughout. She never missed a beat when she insinuated she had stayed at Patrick"s house because she was his girlfriend and that Brandon had been there so they could keep an eye on him while he recovered from his injuries.

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Eventually, they asked her again why she didn"t think this guy was just a garden-variety religious nut.

Destiny frowned, considering the question for a moment. “It"s what he said at the end. He said that his pastor, or maybe God, had been right. That I was an abomination.” Brandon squeezed Destiny"s shoulder, trying to offer comfort. It wasn"t easy, since in an instant he"d gone from believing the connection to his beating was a long shot to being convinced the psychos had followed Destiny.

Now he could give Patrick a run for his money in the hyper-protectiveness race.

McGuire nodded, flipping back in his notebook. “That"s what Bobby Wilkinson called Detective Barrett during the second attack, right?” he asked calmly.

“That"s right.” The smile Destiny gifted McGuire with clearly expressed her gratitude that he was paying attention and not judging. Brandon wanted to hug the guy.

Everyone was ignoring Carter.

McGuire looked at Brandon. “It"s pretty thin.”

“Paper thin,” he agreed.

For a moment they fell silent.

Eventually, McGuire spoke. “Either way, we can"t ignore it.” When Carter opened his mouth, McGuire cut him off. “The kid didn"t commit a crime, but he hinted at one.” McGuire turned to Destiny. “And we have reason to believe you"ve been followed. To work. To your home.”

Destiny looked sick at the thought.

McGuire smiled at her kindly. “Is there somewhere you can stay?”

“She"s staying with us.” The words were out of Brandon"s mouth before he thought better of it. Christ, Patrick was the one with the big mouth and no filter. What the fuck was wrong with him?

He now held everyone"s undivided attention. He kept his face impassive, as if he hadn"t just stepped in a big pile of shit. He refused to backpedal. Or stammer. Or do anything that might make him look guilty.

“Destiny will have either me or Patrick with her at all times when she"s not in her office building. I"ll speak to her building security as well.” Destiny shot him a dark look. He should have asked her first, but he wasn"t feeling flexible about these points and sticking his foot in it had left him little option. He"d thank her later for not telling him to take a hike.

In the meantime, he decided a tactical retreat might be the best course of action at this point. “I have to go clear off my desk so I can take you home, Des. Give my cell a call when you"re done here and I"ll come get you.” She looked like she wanted to protest, but nodded instead.

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Brandon hightailed it out of the bullpen and straight to where Patrick waited, pacing like a caged lion in the small kitchen. He was doing as they"d agreed and staying out of sight until Destiny had a chance to talk to McGuire and Carter.

The last thing they needed was the inevitable explosion between Patrick and Destiny to detonate in front of this audience.

One clusterfuck at a time—that was Brandon"s new motto.

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Chapter Fourteen

Destiny was wrecked.

Wishing like hell she"d slept even ten minutes the night before, she dragged her ass along the corridor. Captain Sullivan looked at her with concern and she smiled at him, gratefully accepted the arm he held out for her as they weaved through the bullpen to get to his office. He had always struck her as an old-fashioned gentleman. Fatherly.

After the last week, she appreciated his kindness more than ever.

He gently urged her into one of his guest chairs, patting her hand then turning to talk on the phone. He paused on his way back out the door.

“I"ll send Patrick and Brandon to see you,” he offered, obviously trying to comfort her.

Talk about missing the mark.

Wide awake now, she stood, unsure what to do. How to escape.

She was bracing herself for Patrick, her presumed boyfriend as far as the Police Department was concerned, and was caught off guard when Brandon slipped through the door and gently pulled her into his arms.

She considered pushing away for a nanosecond, then closed her eyes and held on tight, feeling his warmth steal into her. She was surprised when she started to shake.

God, she was wrung out. There was nothing in the world she wanted more than for Brandon to murmur words of reassurance, run his hands down her back and rock her gently.

He always knew what she needed.

She didn"t let go when Patrick entered the room, though the relaxing effects of Brandon"s embrace were lost. She watched Patrick warily, unsure what to think when he closed all the blinds, sealing them in and shutting out prying eyes.

It was an incredibly stupid thing for him to do, she was sure, but she didn"t protest.

He was a big boy. He could make his own bed and lie in it.

When he turned to look at her, he was the picture of concern and remorse. She had to close her eyes against it and how it tugged at her traitorous heart.

She should leave and spend some time away from these men. It was too fresh. Too painful.

Somehow, though, she couldn"t let go of Bran.

“He"s an idiot.” Brandon said softly, his mouth pressed to her hair.

“He told you?” Not that she was surprised. Her absence would have had to be explained this morning.

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“Yup,” Brandon answered.

She hung there, her feet barely skimming the ground, her arms clinging to Brandon"s neck. She wanted to rail at Patrick for saying what he"d said. Doing what he"d done. She wanted to rail at herself for being so relieved to have them both there with