Uncuffed (The Vault) by Michelle Dare

Author:Michelle Dare [Dare, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Daring Romance LLC
Published: 2018-01-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Hope

I open my eyes and there is too much light, so I squeeze them shut again. My head is throbbing, and my mouth is dry as hell. I sit up slowly and touch my feet to the floor—the hardwood floor. What the fuck? Where am I? Squinting, I barely open my eyes and take in my surroundings. Grey walls, dark wood floors, cherry dresser, and bed. No, no, no.

Turning, I see Rowe still asleep beside me. Oh, fuck no. And I’m naked. I must have lost the bet. Okay, so the naked part doesn’t bother me in the least. I’m sure Mr. Detective used a condom, and even if he didn’t, I’m on the pill. That’s not my concern right now. No, I need to figure out where my clothes are, and how to get out of here, without waking him up.

Very carefully, I slip out of bed and go on the hunt for my clothes. In the kitchen are my bra and panties. The living room is where I find my shirt and jeans. I don’t look at the room or the furnishings. I have tunnel vision and only one goal. Plus, I worry if I start looking around and see another side of Rowe, I’ll like him even more. I don’t need that right now.

As I pass the front door, I see my boots and decide to wait to put them on until I’m dressed and on my way out. Walking down the hall to a guest bathroom, I notice a picture on the wall that catches my eye. I tell myself not to bother looking at it, or the one next to it, but my curiosity gets the better of me. That’s when I see him—the man who came to my front door to tell me my parents were dead. And the name on the police uniform he’s wearing says, “Falk.” Oh. My. God.

No, it can’t be. Rowe doesn’t look anything like this man. But then my eyes swing right and the picture beside it is almost identical. The man in that one is older, slightly greying hair, “Falk” on his uniform. Holy fuck. So that means his brother was the one who broke the news to me.

Standing in the hall, my jeans and shirt in one hand, bra and panties in the other, staring at this picture, Rowe emerges from the bedroom. This just went from holy shit to nuclear. I try to tamp down my feelings, and Rowe’s body is the perfect distraction. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of hunter green boxer briefs. His muscular frame is on full display. For a split second, I forget everything except for him and the way he is watching me as he walks up the hallway.

“That’s my dad,” he says, nodding to the picture on the right. “He died before I graduated from the police academy. The other one is my brother. He died in the line of duty.”

I face the pictures again. I can’t help but stare at the one of his brother.

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