Her Heart

by Christa Wick

  "Or how easily you color?" Gillie added as we stepped under the porch light.

  I answered with a half-hostile side-eye as I slid my key in the deadbolt. As soon as I removed the key from the bottom lock a few seconds later, he grabbed the knob.

  "You're not searching the inside," I argued, my hand landing atop his.

  Gillie's mouth puckered, his lips sliding side to side before he grinned. "You're gonna make me stand watch in my truck then."

  He gave a mock shiver as his grin split wider. "Temperature is supposed to drop to fifty tonight, Mia."

  "That's blackmail or extortion, deputy." I poked lightly at his chest. "Both of which are illegal."

  I wasn't worried about getting him out once he got in. I didn't even understand why I wanted him to leave so soon. Well...he might continue asking me questions about Collin once we were inside. I didn't want that. He'd also look in every room, and my heart wasn't ready to open the door onto the spare bedroom to anyone just yet. Hell, he'd see the bin marked "ruined" in the living room. He'd ask about that, too, and I might just start crying.

  "You worried you left some lacy bits out?" He slid his hand out from under mine and placed it lightly on my shoulder.

  I rolled my eyes at him. "No."

  The lacy bits and, more so, the leather bits, were buried at the bottom of the dresser drawer.

  His thumb stroked along the edge of my collarbone to slowly erase my resistance. "Something you don't want 'Deputy Gillie' seeing?"

  I shook my head. "It's nothing like that."

  Giving up with a growl, I pushed the door open and flipped the light on. "Look, whatever you see, I don't want to talk about it. One word and your safety check is over."

  "Sure, baby girl." His hand landed on my hip as he moved me inside the house. Shutting and locking the door, he walked first to the small side closet in the living room. He checked the locks on the front windows, then moved into the kitchen and garage. The closet holding the furnace and water heater took half a second, then the bathroom then my bedroom.

  He was thorough in the bedroom, getting down on his knees to check under the bed and pushing the clothes to the side as he checked the closet. I could only see the side of his face as he looked, but his brow inched higher as he dragged the clothes back in place, his nostril flaring on that side, too.

  I guess you didn't have to be a girl or a leech like Evan to notice how expensive the clothes Stark had given me were.

  Leaving the bedroom, a fresh wave of embarrassment washed over me. All of the money sitting in my savings hadn't been received for honest work done, same went for the clothes in the closet. Gillie couldn't possibly imagine what I had done to earn them, but I knew and the memories started twisting and slapping inside my gut.

  "Need to check this one, too," Gillie said, catching me in the hall, my body blocking the door to the spare room.

  "It's a health hazard," I answered, my eyes not lifting to meet his gaze. "You shouldn't go in."

  Stepping in close, his torso brushing against mine, he reached around me and opened the door. When I didn't move and he couldn't reach the light switch, he wrapped one arm around my waist and turned me. The hand stayed in place, his free one flipping on the light.

  His gaze jumped around the room, first to the window then to the doorless closet, then over the damaged ceiling and outer wall. He flipped the light off and closed the door, my body still secured against his.

  He cupped my chin, forcing my gaze up. "So, about this guy—"

  I stiffened, my back arching as I tried to pull my face from his grip.

  "He's not here, Mia." Gillie moved with me, his head shaking in warning. "So I can talk about him. Is he someone who hurt you?"

  I closed my eyes as "yes" and "no" warred at the tip of my tongue. Gillie probably meant physical abuse, of which there had been none. Any pain was consensually received and preceded an explosion of pleasure.

  Emotionally, Collin had gone beyond hurting me. He had left me at the precipice of broken, my four-month sojourn in Florida passing much like a crash victim afraid of moving in case the bones finally snapped. But he had also given me highs I had never experienced with another man. He had revealed that I didn't know what being in love was really like. I had coveted relationships with Ames and the men before him, thought I loved them, but Collin proved them nothing more than pale infatuations.

  Even standing in Gillie's embrace, his body warm against mine and a tender concern coloring his hazel eyes, I knew I couldn't feel for Gillie what I had felt for Collin, at least not any time soon. Maybe years in the future, but probably not at all.

  "Mia," Gillie's voice roughened and his grip on me tightened. "Tell me if this man is a danger to you."

  Slowly, I relaxed, my heart rate returning to normal. I looked at Gillie and shook my head. "No, he's not a danger to me."

  I wouldn't let Collin be a danger to me. He didn't control by force, but by will. If he came back, he would find my heart shielded against him.

  Nodding, Gillie exhaled long and slow, as if he had been holding his breath. He released me as the air left him. Biting his lip, he nodded again.

  "Maddie's having a barbecue Sunday. She's out in Tarboro, but she'd love you to come."

  Relief flooded through me. Gillie was making his exit but also making it clear that I hadn't alienated him after so strange an evening or my reactions to everything.

  "Okay," I answered.

  Chuckling, he dropped his head and shook it as he stared at the floor. "You're hard on a man's ego, Miss James."

  "Only when it's too big to start with!" Laughing, I pushed at his chest until I had him turned and pointed down the hallway in the direction of the living room.

  "Oh," he teased. "And cruel, I see."

  I had him at the front door, half his body on one side of the open frame, his arm braced against the side, fingernails scratching absently as he looked down at me.

  "It's not cruelty," I promised and pushed him the last of the way out. "It's self-preservation."

  His face turned sad, not like I'd hurt him but like he'd just seen a puppy kicked on the side of the road and I was the puppy.

  "You don't have to protect yourself from me, Mia."

  Not true. If I started thinking about Gillie they way he seemed to want me to, that would quickly lead to comparisons between him and Collin. Gillie would lose and I would be deeply heartsick all over again for a man who only viewed me as a loose end and a liability.

  "John," I started, tears threatening for the hundredth time that day as I closed the door on him. "I have to protect myself from everybody."

  9

  Mia

  I could have cried myself to sleep after Gillie left. My chest was heavy with the need to unleash. Could have cried until I puked then cried some more. Instead, I waited until he pulled away then found the new door locks I'd bought at the hardware store after work because it is not possible to be a bawl baby and change four locks. Can't even change one lock in that condition.

  When I finished, I spent half an hour under the shower head, hot water blasting at muscles that I had held too tight since running into Collin outside the bank. Finished, I remembered Gillie's remark that the temperature was going to dip to fifty. Knowing I couldn't have the furnace on until I had it inspected, I wrote down a reminder to call someone in the morning then grabbed one of my billowy granny flannels from the closet, put it on and crawled into bed.

  Hard to believe that just the night before I had experienced my first, blissful night undisturbed by images of Collin. Sliding into the first dream of the night, I knew it would be a very long time before I could make the same claim again.

  WHUMP-WHUMP-WHUMP

  Ungluing my eyelids, I looked at the clock and waited for the numbers to focus.

  6:32 a.m.

  Not even the ass crack of dawn.

  WHUMP-WHUMP-WHUMP

  A male voice I knew all too well followed the pounding.

  "You unlock this
damn door right now, Mia James."

  Hearing Evan use my last name, a shiver ran down my spine. Just as my mother had reserved my middle name for when she was at wit's end with me, Evan saved the "James" portion until he was out for blood—usually in the form of bruises dotting my skin anywhere and everywhere clothes would cover them.

  Grabbing my cellphone, I dialed all but the last number for police dispatch as I walked to the front door. Leaving the chain on, I opened the door, my hip and foot braced against the wood in case he tried to bust in. Holding my phone up, my finger hovering over the last number, I glared at my stepfather.

  He chopped his hand at the new locks. "You got no right—"

  "I have every right when I'm in residence," I snapped. "Get a lawyer if you disagree."

  Truth was, I had no idea whether I'd been legally in the right to change the locks. I imagined there was a fat book of court cases and legal statutes somewhere that governed everything, but no rules had been mentioned in the will or in probate after my mother died.

  "Lawyers are for the weak, little girl." His fingers bent around the edge of the door frame and he started to push.

  We had danced to this song before. I always lost back then, but I'd been a smaller fat girl. Now my mass wasn't without muscle, especially from my time spent with Collin. The positions Stark had made me hold while he pleasured my body had isometrically strengthened me. Even in Florida, with no lover to direct me, I had repeated those positions, finding in them an almost meditative state that, some nights, was the only thing that brought me enough peace to sleep.

  "This is my house," Evan growled. "You will give me the keys."

  Straining to hold him in check, my hand started to sweat. If I didn't get the door shut and bolted soon, I would lose my grip on the phone and my lifeline to help.

  Yelling, I shoved more of my weight against the door. "It's my house!"

  Evan wedged the tip of his toe in the remaining gap, his hand adjusting its grip so that his palm was at risk instead of his fingers. He pawed at my face, the nails bitten too short to scratch.

  "Only while you're alive." The words came out as a cold, menacing chuckle, sparking another shiver of dread across my body.

  "Are you threatening me?" I inhaled, trying not to panic.

  "Little girl, you bring a mother fucking cop onto my property and I don't have to threaten you." Evan worked his elbow into the gap, his hand capturing my wrist and giving it a rough jerk that sent the phone flying. "I got plenty who'll do it without my even asking."

  He grabbed my hair next, his fingers expertly knotting in the strands so that I couldn't move my head without ripping hair from the roots.

  "You've been holding out, you little bitch." He gave another hard jerk, making me yelp. "I already had a walk through, seen all those fancy clothes and the slutty leather ones you got buried deep in the dresser."

  His tone dropped to a speculative level that made bile burn its way up my throat and into my mouth. "Tell me, Mia, did I give you a taste for getting beat on?"

  "Release her."

  I couldn't imagine anyone, not even my stepfather, being stupid enough to ignore the edge in Collin Stark's voice. Yet Evan hesitated to comply. That's when Stark threaded an arm across his throat, his massive bicep and forearm working together to squeeze Evan's airway shut.

  My stepfather lost his grip on me. Collin slammed him against the wall. Holding his palm against the center of Evan's chest, he stared unblinking into his eyes.

  "Any injury to her," Collin warned, "and I'll take a month in killing you. Open fractures, someplace dirty so that the bacteria gets in and starts to eat you from both sides, you'll beg to die long before I let you."

  Grabbing a fistful of Evan's shirt, Collin flung him away from the house. Sprawling in the dirt and fallen pine needles, my stepfather stumbled to his feet, his gaze on the cab of his truck. Ignoring the rifle on Evan's window rack, Collin moved his jacket to one side to reveal a long-barreled handgun. He tilted his chin up, acknowledging the rifle at last as a half smile crept along his face.

  "You'll want to wait until you have a clear shot at my back," he taunted.

  Froth played at the edge of Evan's lips. He wiped a shaking hand across his mouth then spit in my direction, his gaze bloodshot and furious. "You don't bring this shit onto my land, Mia."

  Collin moved until he blocked Evan's view of me. "The shit was already on your land, old man."

  A card flicked down at my stepfather's feet.

  "You don't talk to her anymore," Collin growled. "You have something to say, you say it to the voice on the end of that line."

  I thought Evan would leave the card in the dirt but he scooped it up before hobbling to his truck. He climbed in, the engine turning over a few seconds later. Pedal to the floor, he pulled a hard left, sending dirt and pebbles spraying in the direction of the door.

  Collin already filled the open frame, the debris pelting the back of his leather jacket as he forced me inside.

  "You're packing—now."

  "I'm not leaving." I pushed at his hands, my skin tingling so badly it burned wherever the pressure of his touch landed. "This is my home."

  Letting go of me, he scooped my phone up, cancelled the partial call and pocketed the device. He looked at me, the shape of his flaring nostrils and flattened mouth softening from angry to reminiscent. His lips rolled for half a second then he shook his head like he was flinging off raindrops or a troubling thought.

  Looking down, I saw the folds of flannel that made up my nightgown, the pattern not too different from the one I had worn that night in Dubai—the night I had conceived.

  Shut that thought down, Mia. Shut it down right now!

  I shoved my hand at him. "Give me the phone."

  Ignoring the demand, he walked around the living room, stopping in front of the bins marked "salvage" and "ruined." He bent down, his hand reaching for the nearest container.

  "Don't touch those!"

  Without a second's hesitation, he ignored me and ripped the lid off the bin of ruined items. He fingered through the top layer for a few seconds then looked over his shoulder at me.

  "I can't imagine you leaving these behind."

  "I didn't," I bit out as tears tracked slowly down my cheeks.

  "He didn't let you have your family keepsakes when you left?"

  Ignoring the question, I shoved my arm in his direction, my hand twitching and jumping with the need to possess the phone. Relenting, he pulled it from his pocket and returned it to me.

  I snatched it to my chest. "Now get out."

  He looked at the box again, his gaze seemingly focused on a runny picture of me at six, my forehead against Corabelle's as I fed her an apple.

  "NSA has these algorithms—"

  "You can't fix it." I pointed at the door, my chest rapidly rising and falling as I verged on hyperventilating.

  I didn't need this bullshit. I had to deal with the sociopath my mother had married. I needed my energy focused on rebuilding my life. Collin couldn't keep showing up and kicking over my building blocks like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

  He didn't want me and he had to stop acting like he gave a damn!

  Collin put the lid on the bin then walked toward me. Stumbling around the furniture, I took a step back for each one he took forward until I came up against the wall. He stopped, a few inches separating our torsos, and pressed his palms flat against the worn paint on each side of my head. He held his arms up high enough I could duck under one if my legs weren't frozen.

  He closed the pocket of air between us, his thick, muscular chest pushing against my soft breasts and stomach. His blue eyes focused on me like laser beams as he recanted yesterday's denial in a raspy voice.

  "You can have home office."

  Home office, where I could watch all the little gestures between him and his new secretary in real life instead of on television. Home office, where he could pass me in the hall with the same bored, indifferent look he had aff
ected at the restaurant and in my first month working directly under him. Home office, where what was left of my self-esteem would be ground to dust far faster than Reed Henley and the Florida office could accomplish.

  I stared into his blue eyes, hoping he couldn't sense my body's reaction despite all the sour thoughts running through my head.

  My nipples had puckered beneath the smooth flannel, the sensation of the fabric rubbing over my skin as he pushed against me a delicious torture. Heat flared over every inch of me, my bare toes curling against the cold wood floor. My thighs flexed, everything in that zone pulling tight with need and neglect even as a sheen of moisture covered my eyes and thickened.

  I shook my head. "I told you I wouldn't take home office."

  He leaned closer, increasing the pressure on my nipples and lower stomach. Eyes shut, he rubbed his forehead lightly back and forth against mine.

  "What will you take?"

  What was he offering? More rejection most likely. If my being at home office would have been too awkward yesterday, how could my being in his arms or his bed be any less awkward? He had said "no" yesterday because he didn't want me around him or didn't want me hurt from seeing his disinterest in me on a daily basis.

  "I need to know you are where you'll be safe," he pressed, his weight settling against me. "Tell me what it will take to get you to leave this place."

  My throat seized. I shook my head, the motion repeating, traveling, intensifying. Collin slid his hands to my hips in a futile attempt to hold me still. I curled my fingers around his wrist as far as they would reach, but he was too thick there for me to capture and control.

  "I need—" he started, but my sharp, anguished cry stopped him cold.

  "Don't," Collin growled.

  I didn't know what he meant at first, then I felt the moisture pooling thick and hot between my thighs. I hadn't leaked through yet, but he had an extremely sensitive nose, especially when it came to my arousal.

  He leaned in a little harder, his knee pushing between mine to part my thighs as he rucked the flannel up around my hips. His teeth found my neck, denting the flesh where it curved toward my shoulder. Knee sliding higher, his thigh pressed against my mound.