His to Protect (Fireside #2) - Stacey Lynn.pdf

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Declan James lost his last ounce of trust the day his wife walked out the
door, leaving him to save the restaurant they built together. Throwing
himself into his work, Declan swears off women—or at least, women
who expect him to stick around in the morning. But when he discovers
a skittish beauty scrounging through the Fireside’s trash to feed her
dog, Declan offers her a job and a place to rest her head. There’s just
something about her that awakens his protective side. And soon, not
even that mangy mutt can stop Declan from caring for her.
After one too many trips to the ER, Trina Wilson finally gathered the
courage to leave her husband, taking only her car and hyperactive
boxer. Unfortunately, life on the run proves harder than she
anticipated—until Declan takes a leap of faith on her. But even as Trina
starts to see beyond his gruff exterior, she can’t relax, even for a
moment. Not with her husband still tracking her down. What Trina
doesn’t know is that in Declan, she has a powerful ally—and, if she
would only follow her heart, a devoted lover.
Prologue
Trina
I left a week ago.
One week of constantly looking over my shoulder while I walked down
the sidewalk.
One week of keeping one eye on the road and one on my rearview
mirror while I drove away from Kentucky.
One week since I had been free, yet I still felt caged.
Antsy.
Paranoid.
Yet in one week, I had learned things about myself I didn't know
before. I was stronger than I thought. I was braver. I was done.
Done being his punching bag. Done being his perfect wife in our
perfect home in our perfect neighborhood with our perfect friends.
I never wanted to be perfect again.
I wanted to figure out who I was now, without him. Without the chains
that used to keep me in my elegant prison—a home that was designed
before I ever entered his perfect little picture, waiting for me to move
into as soon as he slid a giant rock onto my finger.
I would never return.
I just had to make sure he never found me. Because if he did, I knew I
would not survive.
Chapter 1
Trina
The air was crisp, the lingering stickiness of summer's humidity
changing into the first hints that fall was just around the corner. With
one hand on Boomer's leash, I tugged him along the sidewalk,
pretending we were out for a late-night stroll through the cobblestone
streets of Latham Hills.
I hadn't intended to stop so close to Kentucky. Detroit was only a day's
drive from the home I'd fled just last week. But as soon as I arrived
there, intent on heading to Canada and leaving my past behind,
something about the little area on the north side of Detroit spoke to me.
It was old and beautiful, rich with a history I wanted to understand and
explore, and that's what so much of this journey was about for me.
Figuring out who I was and what I loved.
So even though I was close to crossing the border into a new country, I
felt drawn to stay awhile.
Heal.
Wait for the bruises on my cheek to fade, and my ribs to cease aching
when I moved too suddenly.
Then I'd move on to Canada, where, hopefully, Kevin wouldn't be able
to reach me.
"Come on, Boom." I tugged on his leash again and led my boxer into
the alley, where I'd been giving him food from the leftovers of
restaurants for the last week. Leaving my old life with a small supply of
cash forced me to stretch my budget in ways I never had before. Dog
food wasn't expensive in the grand scheme of things, but I only had a
few hundred dollars left and I was trying to save every penny I could.
I'd make it up to Boomer with a bag of his favorite gourmet food as
soon as we got settled somewhere. Besides, he didn't seem to mind
eating leftover burgers from the sports bar that we walked by on our
first day.
I won't lie. The delicious aromas that drifted into the air had called to
me more than once, too. It'd been ages since I was "allowed" to sink my
teeth into a juicy burger, but a good meal was just one more thing I
couldn't afford right now.
It had been gas station hot dogs and pizza slices for me, something else
I hadn't been allowed to eat before. Although now they were something
I didn't want to eat again.
With a cautious glance down the sidewalk, I ensured no one was
watching before Boomer and I headed into the alley. There were lots of
restaurants along this main stretch of road in Latham Hills, but few
alleys where I could hide while I let Boomer nosh on grilled beef.
"Come on, pup," I whispered, and gave another quick tug on the leash.
He followed me eagerly, already licking his chops while his wild tail
flopped back and forth.
My dog could understand basic commands; because of his size, I
worked hard to train him properly. But even at six years old, he still
acted like a puppy most days.
He began to whine with anticipation as I led him over to the dumpster,
where I dropped his leash and told him to sit. He listened immediately,
his tail thumping against the pavement, while I pulled myself up to the
top of the dumpster.
Dumpster diving. If only my mother or Kevin could see me now. I
almost snickered at the idea even as I was grunting.
My required Pilates and cardio routines had done little to build the
muscle needed to lift the heavy metal lid.
With a final push, I used all my strength to shove the top open, cringing
when the metal banged against the brick wall.
I dropped to my feet, waiting for any sign of life as the sound echoed in
the dark, narrow alley.
Next to me, Boomer began to whine, his large, pink tongue drooping
from his mouth. "Hush," I whispered, and gave him a quick, calming
rub. "Just another minute, boy. Now,
stay."
His face rubbed against my thigh and I quickly pushed him away
before I climbed back up on the dumpster and reached in for a bag of
garbage.
Shame slithered through me as I grabbed the first black bag I could get
my fingers on.
A week ago, I was coming home from a manicure appointment and
running twenty minutes late for dinner, and I knew exactly what was in
store for me.
Now, my chipped nails were clinging to plastic bags of garbage. I had
no idea what the future held.
Even with the shame, this life felt better.
The bag slipped from my grip just as I lifted it over the edge and fell to
the ground.
"Crap," I muttered, looking at the mess of spilled garbage at my feet,
and felt my cheeks heat with fear at the small infraction.

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