“Remi.”

Legs braced, arms crossed over his monumental chest, Brick Callan took up all the space in the room. He was still in uniform, still looking as if he wanted to throttle her.

“Did you break down my door?” she demanded, yanking the curtain closed. A flimsy barrier between them. She closed her eyes and willed her pulse to slow. He was so quiet on the other side of his many walls.

Finally, she heard a jingle and looked up. He was holding a keyring over the curtain rod.

Oh, right. He was so trustworthy and dependable. Of course he had a key.

“Go away, Brick. I’m too tired for a one-sided conversation with someone who doesn’t exist.”

Her jaw dropped when the fabric separating them was ripped open. There were three veins visible in his neck. Which meant he was seconds away from going nuclear. But an angry Brick was still safer than a smiling villain.

“Excuse me! I’m naked here,” she snarled, putting her hands on her hips and wishing she had a better shot at his balls.

The white, fluffy bath towel hit her in the face. “Cover up.”

“Cover up? You break into my bathroom while I’m in the shower and tell me to cover up? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You,” he said. A tremor of rage shook that one syllable, giving it too much meaning.

Of course she was his problem, she fumed, tucking the towel between her breasts. She’d ruined Kimber’s life. She’d turned a childhood friend into an enemy. And she’d put a good friend in a situation so dangerous there was no way out.

“You know what? I’m getting really tired of being everyone else’s problem. If you all hate being around me so much, leave me the fuck alone!”

She was so tired, she just wanted to sink down to the bottom of the tub and stay there. As if reading her mind, Brick reached in, shut off the water, and plucked her out of the tub.

Her wet legs left a damp trail over his crotch as he lowered her to the floor. Either he was hard or he’d found a new place to stow a nightstick. But it didn’t matter anymore. None of it did.

She needed to sleep. To curl up in a ball and sleep until the world was ready for her.

“You’re shaking,” he observed.

“You will be, too, if you don’t get the hell out of my bathroom.”

He ignored her threat and pulled her into the living room. She stood there and watched as he found the control for the fireplace and nudged the gas higher. When he started to pace in front of the fireplace, Remi gave up on standing and flopped down on the couch.

“What did you mean tonight?” he demanded, pausing mid-stride to stare at her with a strange intensity crackling in those blue eyes.

“You’ll have to be more specific,” she said, lolling her head on the back of the sofa. “I talk a lot.”