"Oh, don't be, honey. Laughter is good for the soul." She hands me the folders and I begin to read through them. "I'll get us some tea and if you have any questions, then we can chat."

"Yes, ma'am."

As I read the policy and procedure manual, Ginger makes iced tea and brings two glasses of it to my office. "Questions so far?" she asks, holding out a glass.

I shake my head and take the glass, drinking half of it down before I take another breath. "No. It seems very straightforward."

Near my office, a door opens. "Man on the floor," a male voice calls out.

Ginger takes a deep breath, as if she's preparing herself, while I set my glass down. "Policy also dictates that any time a man enters our building, even if he is law enforcement, the security officer follows our two-tiered warning system. The first is to text our office that a man is on his way, and the second is to make that announcement you just heard after he arrives."

Though simple, I like her explanation. It adds another layer of protection for everyone involved and is considerate of the women who live here. "Got it. Do you want me to go to him, or does he come to my office?"

Before Ginger can answer me, the police officer appears. The first thing I notice about him is how big he is-he's built like a quarterback. He has dark, almost black hair, and vivid green eyes. At his side is a woman of average height. Her profile is to me and her head is bowed, so all I can make out is light brown hair and some rather nondescript clothing.

"We're here to get Evangeline settled in," he says in a gravelly voice.

Evangeline tips up her chin, and I struggle not to gasp. Pictures in textbooks are one thing, but to see...I swallow down the lump in my throat.

Her face is covered in bruises, one eye is swollen shut, and her bottom lip is split. There are bruises in the shape of fingers around her throat. Her injuries aren't fresh. She's had them for a while.

Her one good eye takes me in, but she doesn't blink, doesn't waver. It's like she doesn't recognize we're in the room with her.

"A squad car found her wandering down the beltway. I happened to be on that side of town and met up with the officer to transport her here."

"Has she-have you been to the hospital?" I ask Evangeline.

In answer, the officer hands over a file. "This morning. Everything you need is in there."

I hug the file to me, half afraid to read it. I have to read it. It's a part of my job. Why spend years of my life training and studying for this if I want to remain a terrified little girl?

"Would you like to have a seat? Maybe some tea?" I ask Evangeline, but she doesn't respond.

"She's still high on her pain meds."

I turn to the officer and hold out my hand. "I'm Piper."

"Hunter." He shakes my hand. "She's been through hell. If you have a bed, let's get her in it."

Ginger steps forward. "I'll take her." She reaches for Evangeline, but the younger woman screams, grabbing on tight to Hunter's arm.

I want to cry with Evangeline and hug her, but Hunter is all business. "It's okay, Evangeline. These nice ladies are here to help you."

"Promise?" she whispers.

"Yeah."

Tears leak out of the corner of her good eye. "Don't tell my family."

"We won't, Evangeline," I promise her. "We only want to help you heal."

Hunter gives me a look but doesn't say a word until Ginger and Evangeline are out of the room. "I like you," he pronounces. "You spoke to her and not at her."

I shrug a little, uncomfortable with his praise. "I know how it feels to be talked at and around, as if I'm not in the room at all."

His gaze roams over me before giving a smart salute. "Thanks for your help."

"Thank you, officer."

As soon as he leaves, I slump against my desk, still clutching Evangeline's file to my chest. I don't think I've ever had a first day like this, and college most definitely did not prepare me for it.

Chapter 8.

Piper

By the time I get to Jase and Emmett's shop, I'm emotionally drained from the time I spent at the shelter.

A part of me worries that I'm not strong enough for the job, that I've been sheltered for far too long to be an effective counselor. Not to mention that my own life is in upheaval and has been for several months now. My problems are nothing compared to the problems of the women I helped today, but they are enough to possibly affect my work.

Fixing my hair, I give myself one last look in the rearview mirror before reapplying lip gloss. Satisfied that I've perked up enough to get past Jase's knowing gaze, I get out of the car and go inside the tattoo shop.

One day, I hope they change the name. It's literally Tattoo Shop. I guess Emmett's dad wasn't original when it came to naming his business.

As soon as I spy Jase, I want to run to him, but he's with a client and I can't interrupt. Instead, I walk to the office and sit down at the desk, opening up the file that Emmett had downloaded to the desktop computer. I grab their bank statements to try to make heads or tails of all of it.

Logic returns to my brain, soothing me with irrefutable facts that two plus two equals four. That deposits are written in black ink and withdrawals are written in red. The computer program takes everything I input and makes it orderly.

Hands rub at my shoulders and I start, but then I relax when I see the familiar tattoos on the knuckles. The phrase HOLD FAST is inked in a faded blue, and I think of us, of our relationship. In the days, weeks...maybe even months to come, I know we'll have to hold fast to each other so that no one comes between us.

"How was your first day?" Jase asks, kissing the top of my head.

"I love numbers," I mumble. Yet another rule of Mother's broken. Speak clearly so that others may hear you. Privately, I think that is one of her more practical rules, but a rule that I need to break just the same.

"That good, huh?"

"You have no idea."

He spins the office chair around and kneels in front of me. "Tell me about it?"

Tilting my head to one side, I sigh. "Can't. It's confidential."

"Anything else I can do?" He runs his palms up the back of my legs, causing sensations of pleasure to spark to life. I can't help but moan a little.

"That. You can do that."

"Anything for you." He rubs my calves until I'm a useless blob of a human. My eyes are shut and I'm half slumped into my chair. How did I ever go this long without this man touching me?

I crack open one eye. "Is it bad that all I want to do is go home and sleep?"

Leaning up, he presses a kiss to my cheek and stands, waving his hands as he does. "Magic hands. You can't help that you've succumbed to them."

I snort so hard that I cough. "If you weren't so good at relaxing me, I'd never talk to you again."

"Yeah, you would," he says smugly.

He's right. I would, but still, it never hurts to tease him. "I don't know...that line was super-cheesy."

He cocks a brow. "Really?"

"Yeah, really." I cross my legs primly and clasp my hands together, settling them in my lap. At the moment, I am the very picture of my mother's version of what a southern belle should look like. "In fact, I'm very particular about who I talk to."

He rubs his thumb across his lower lip and I watch, fascinated by his movements. "Are you very particular about who you kiss?" he asks.

I nod, feeling more powerful and turned on by the second.

"Who you allow in your bed?"

I find my voice. "Only the suavest of men."

"Suavest?" He rolls his eyes. "I was hoping for a little more than that."

With a giggle, I stand and grab the hem of his shirt, pulling him to me. I have to crane my neck back to look into his sexy blue eyes. "I only allow you to kiss me and to be in my bed."

"Give you orgasms." His voice is husky with desire. "Suck on your nipples."

My nipples harden and desire pulses between my thighs. "Make me wet."

"Is that a request, Ms. Particular"-he dips his head and nips at my bottom lip-"or an order?"

"Would you take an order from me?" I peer up at him from under my lashes.

"Depends on the order."

"Then I'll have to say both." I lean up on my tiptoes and kiss him with all the passion I feel for him. "I order you to make me wet...please." His hand curves around my neck, cupping the back of my head. I fist my hands into his shirt even tighter.

"Fuck, yes. I'll do whatever you want."

"Get a room," Emmett catcalls.

I can feel my face heat, but I only pause for a second or two before I get lost in Jase's kiss again.

"My girl," he says, breathing heavily. "No one else has ever gotten me going from a kiss like you do."

"Is that a good thing?" I smile coyly. I want to be flattered. I want to know that I'm treating him right, that I don't suck when it comes to flirting or kissing or...anything that requires intimacy.

He caresses my cheek. "A very good thing, kitten."

Jase

I let Piper get back to work before I take action on the temptation to lock the office door and get my face between her thighs. The thought of her coming on my tongue again makes me grip the doorknob hard.

"Jase?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Is there any place around here that does delivery cheap? I forgot to eat today."

That takes me by surprise. "Not even breakfast?"

She shakes her head. "I didn't bring that many groceries with me, and I'm out of bread."

"My pantry is full-you can take what you want out of there and cook what you want."

A pained look covers her face. "I don't...I don't know how to cook, and I don't have enough money to pay you back unless you can wait until payday." She swallows. "When's payday?"

When I got out of prison, it felt like I didn't know the basics of life anymore. The sun was too bright, the open spaces too big, and eating alone made me depressed. Yeah, I self-medicated with sex, alcohol, and drugs that flashed through my system, but I eventually remembered how to cook, how to interact, how to pay bills, how to do all the things I used to....Basically, I remembered how to be me again. However, for Piper not to know basic skills of living on her own...it astounds me.

"You didn't cook the casserole you brought to me when I first got out?"

She shakes her head, her cheeks heating. "Our-my parents' cook did."

"Did you ask Rowan for help when y'all lived together?"

"She likes to cook, so I just did all the prep work." She gives me a sad smile. "I'm spoiled and helpless, aren't I?"

She is, but to tell her that wouldn't help in the least. Besides, I plan on spoiling her myself-not with expensive jewelry and exotic trips, but in time spent with her, touching her, and giving her my undivided attention. It's obvious she's starved for attention-always has been. I'm not much different. I went for seven years without a woman's touch, and God only knows how long I've ached for Piper's touch.

According to Rowan, Piper's parents were never big fans of hugs or kisses. She said that Piper's nannies-plural because her mother would fire the old one and hire a new one every year-would tuck her in at night.