Kind of like the fire that started it all.
A tentative touch turned into something fueled by desperation. The floodgates broke loose, and it was hotter than the fiery inferno of her house. Desire and panic surged back and forth from his charged body and lips to hers in a delicious duel.
He tucked her beneath him, the weight of this strong, beautiful man awakening her in ways beyond her wildest dreams.
What are you doing?
Something niggled in the back of her mind but was quickly overrun by the intensity of the moment. The urgency of each gentle caress exchanged like a flawless symphony of wanting.
Oh, she wanted this man. In a way she never wanted anything in her life.
But almost as much as that, she felt wanted in return. Needed. It was rapidly filling a loveless, lonely void.
When her fingers skimmed up the muscular crevice of his spine she was only distantly aware that she’d felt his skin, not his shirt.
An alarm went off in her head. Fear began wrestling for dominance.
Don’t overthink it. Don’t go to that place.
His grip tightened on bare skin previously covered. She flushed hot and cold. She couldn’t think. Could barely breathe. Blotches of black danced in her eyes before she squeezed them shut.
His lips broke away, trailing down her neck …
Don’t freak out. Don’t be a freak. He’s not going to hurt you.
His hands coasted up the backs of her thighs, the press of his body pinning her like a butterfly. Trapped. It felt amazing, and yet the passion ripped from her grasp.
“No!”
She’d meant to speak, but the word hadn’t come from her lips. The chill of his sudden absence was a slap of sanity. Part of her was relieved, the other part almost desperate to pull him back down and finish what they started, if only to prove the past didn’t have a hold on her. That she wasn’t some frigid basket case who freaked when a man so much as touched her. But he was scrambling off the bed, his eyes darkening with a startling burst of anger. “I’m not like you.”
The knife of his words wedged deep. Somewhere between a clavicle and a rib, an imaginary blade struck to the hilt. Pain, unlike anything she’d ever felt, sliced through her chest.
I’m not like you.
Her first impulse was to dissolve into tears. Give in to the heartbreaking conclusion of his words.
He would never accept her. She was stained. Used.
Unworthy.
But before the tears could break free, the words came back for a second go-around.
I’m not like you?
This time, she felt another emotion.
Joselyn called it pissed.
“No, you’re not. You’re worse!” Shooting up from the bed, she caught and righted the delicate straps of her dress that had fallen, groped for the zipper open at her back.
Finn’s shirt hung open, untucked and wrinkled, his muscles rippling with each breathless pant.
Joselyn struggled with her own breath but managed to unleash her fury with ease. “Not like me, huh? And what am I, exactly?”
With a tortured wince, the jerk now managed to look contrite.
“That came out wrong. I didn’t mean it like that. I got carried away, and I was trying to do the right thing.” His eyes wandered, as if the act of looking at her made him feel dirty.
Is this the same Finn who’d dated every bimbo this side of the Mississippi?
Tunneling his hands through the hair she had personally mussed, he heaved out a sigh. The words that came next seemed to cause him pain. “Look, I know you slept with Cody.”
Slept? He didn’t know the half of it.
Self-righteous coward.
Tears brimmed to the edge and poured over without consideration of her humiliation. Joselyn shook her head. “I can’t believe I could’ve been so stupid. They say love is blind, but my eyes are wide open, and all I can see clearly is that—I’m a fool. A fool to open my heart to someone as selfish as you. A fool to think I could trust you again after what you did to me.” A sob broke the words, but she was beyond caring.
“A fool to believe you might actually love me back.”
He took a step forward. She jerked back out of reach. “And finally, a fool to let my guard down in that bed tonight. Thank God nothing happened. Lord knows you’d probably turn it into another thing you could torture yourself about. Pile it onto your mountain of egomaniacal martyrdom. But rest assured, you did the right thing.”
“Joss.” He looked so broken. Confused. “I didn’t mean it like—”
“Cody raped me, Finn.” she blurted before she could stop it, not even certain he would believe her. Her own father hadn’t. Simply threw a high-priced shrink her way and told her to get over it. “And not just once. All night, after you refused to take me home and delivered me to his room.” Joselyn choked back the vile images flashing in her eyes. Immeasurable pain. And loss.
It seemed, it was her destiny.
Finn froze. His skin drained so sickly white she thought he might faint.
She couldn’t look at him any longer. But somehow the rest tumbled out, the memories rushing back with excruciating clarity. “He’d obviously taken something. High on some sort of sadistic rage. And the more I fought him, the more violent things got.”
Forcing down the acid now coating her throat, her voice wobbled, but she forged on. “What may or may not have been the last time … I—I can vaguely remember him bashing my head into the bedpost. When I woke up it was morning. And I’d been discarded on the front porch steps.” Her skin scrubbed raw and reeking of disinfectant.
Breathing deeply, she said, “So, you see, you’re right about me. I’m damaged goods. Inside and out. I have nothing left to give.” Without stopping for her shoes, or her clutch, she threw the lock and got to be the one to walk away. Out of Finn’s life.
This time, for good.
Joselyn jabbed the button for the lobby and collapsed to the elevator floor. Blinded by tears anyway, she drew up her knees and folded her face under the shadow of her arms.
Her sobs echoed all around her as if four other women were unleashing their sorrows in cannon. The metal box closed in on her, seeming to solder all the hurt together, crushing her chest and the remnants of her heart into a million little icicles.
A ding sound preceded the opening of the door, exposing the pitiful wreckage of Billionaire Heiress Joselyn Whyte’s life. Managing to rise from the floor of the elevator, she peered around the open door. Vultures were still camping out in the lobby, ravenous for their next exposé.
She couldn’t very well get her SUV from the valet looking the way she did—the press would be ruthless and her father would never forgive her—but she had to leave.
Then she remembered the FBI surveillance truck out back. Sal would take her home.
But how would she get outside undetected?
At that moment, as if by divine intervention, a bellhop cart bounced by, affording Joselyn cover to a nearby hallway. Creeping down the hall, her vagabond feet under the custom-made Roberto Cavalli gown stung against the chilled travertine tile. With each step, a frigid nip snaked up her legs until the real and imagined cold encased her in a protective layer of ice. Snow Whyte had returned.
Shoving open the back exit she tumbled out into the street, a rumpled and barefoot Cinderella fleeing the ball.
But there was no guard at the door. Wasn’t there supposed to be security at every exit? The slice of winter air sobered her instantly, exposing the rashness of her actions right when a dark shadow stalked through the billows of hot air venting from the buildings. Oh crap. She was about to become a statistic. Her chest convulsed in spasm before she could even eke out a scream.
“Joselyn?” The form picked up speed and emerged from the mist writhing through the dark alley.
“Sal.” His name released on an exhale, and Joselyn, unable to think through the dense scramble of emotion and relief, vaulted into the strong, capable arms of Agent Do
rian Salivas. The slick icy pavement dropped out beneath her feet. She pressed her lips hard against his cheek. “Please, can you get me out of here?”
Easing her back down, he cupped her face, “Joss, what happened? Where’s Finn?” Sal’s fingers swiped at the relentless downpour of tears before his sharp, assessing eyes took inventory.
And then, as if showing solidarity, the sky opened up and shed tears of frozen rain. The ping of sleet swelled in seconds, masked only by the faint purr of a nearing engine. “Oh, Sal,” Joselyn fell into his deep, hazelnut eyes, “Why couldn’t it have been you?”
Sniffling back the mess that was leaking from her face, she wondered if he had any clue what she meant or what had just happened.
Finn was the only one that could leave her this broken. She should have never let him back into her life. Sal would have been the safer, more sensible choice. Why hadn’t she listened to reason?
“Hey, now, shhh.” He tipped up her chin with a curled knuckle. “Don’t go filling my head with that kinda fancy, you hear? An aimless bachelor like me would jump at the chance to settle down with someone like you.” The teasing in his eyes faded, his brows knotted together and he gripped her arms. “Did Finn try something? Oh, I’ll kill him myself, the little twerp. Did he hurt you, Joselyn?” He searched her eyes with an intensity she’d never seen from the wise-cracking Sal.
But she couldn’t form the right words. Wasn’t sure there were any. And in the span of a heartbeat, his eyes widened as if enlightened with the truth. “Let’s go.”
He withdrew the arms that seemed to have been holding her together, and she felt the jumble of her insides threaten another meltdown. Taking her hand, he started toward the truck parked at the end of the street.
Sal mumbled under his breath, “I’m gonna beat the living—”
An explosion of ultraviolet light blasted from the ground—the blinding supernova sent them stumbling back onto the dank pavement.
“What the—” Sal’s curse scattered into the sound of a gunned engine.
Joselyn groped the ground, the slushy compost seeping through her dress. When she righted herself a world of mocking darkness toyed with her senses as her eyes continued to absorb the shock of the blast.
Rubber screamed on the water to her right, she bolted to her left.
“Joselyn, hit the ground, I can’t see!” Sal roared with authority that literally loosed her knees and sent her colliding again with the road. A spray of gunfire ricocheted off the walls, bounding the piercing sound back from every direction. But the spitting bullets rained on, pelting metal and glass on the approaching vehicle.
The charge of the engine tickled the fine hairs on the back of her neck as if it was passing over her. Hugging the asphalt, Joselyn jerked her hands up to cover her head, wishing she could see something.
Oh, God. I’m going to die.
“Run!”
Joselyn’s heart crashed as the undeniable sound of the battle between man and automobile ended with a thud and a life-releasing grunt.
No! A breathless scream choked in her throat. Overrun with a jolt of terror, she leapt to her feet.
Sal was dead. She sensed his life slipping away as if she were holding his heart in her hands.
Honoring his last request, she ran. Aimlessly. Miniscule blips of her surroundings crept into the corners of her blinded eyes. The engine noise revived from its idle.
And when she felt the heat of the engine, it was as if the devil himself breathed on her neck. She knew it was all going to end any second.
Oh, God, please. I don’t know why but somehow this is about me. Don’t let Sal die. Forgiv—
Whack! Black ink bled back into her eyes as something landed with a crack against her skull. Receding into a pit of emptiness, she fell into someone’s arms.
But unlike the peace she’d felt in the arms of her rescuer that first night in the fire, these arms felt like fury. Like pain and hopelessness.
Like a kiss of certain death.
Chapter 41
Finn Carson
Cody raped me, Finn.
For as long as he lived, Finn would never hear words that could dismantle him as much as these. He couldn’t untangle his mind from her words, couldn’t shake away the catatonic shock that gripped him when her confession delivered the fatal blow in his quest for redemption. This was a prison of guilt he would never escape.
Something cruel and vicious on Cody’s face from prom night looped back on the live feed in Finn’s head, tipping him off about ten years too late.
Cody. Finn’s best friend since kindergarten. Who’d been as close as a brother.
Cody had raped and assaulted Joselyn. Practically bragged to Finn’s face about how easily she’d come on to him for weeks after that night, slamming her character and her performance with crude frankness until Finn begged him to stop.
How could he have been so blind?
“It’s all my fault.” Not only was he not a hero, he was the villain. He’d hand delivered her to the enemy.
He felt sick.
He needed to sit, except …
In an instant, the past clicked back into its place, and Joselyn’s absence from the hotel room registered with a spurt of panic. He cursed his stupidity.
Cramming his feet into his shoes, Finn left everything but his gun. Swiping it off the nightstand, he tucked the pistol into his waistband at his back and bolted from the room.
His open shirt flapped like wings as he sprinted to the elevator. The screen adorning each door showed that one car had passed the eleventh floor and was continuing its ascent and the other was in the lobby.
Scrambling to the stairwell, Finn vaulted down each flight of stairs, shooting his gaze down the open spiral core for any glimpse of movement.
Where were those men that had been chasing them?
More importantly, where was Joselyn?
Dammit!
As he made his descent to the ground level, time slowed—taunting his too-little, too-late effort to save the day, again.
First he tries to save the girl. In all his runaway passion he almost takes advantage of her at the worst possible time. And then in his knee-jerk reaction to do right by her, he insults her in the most tactless way imaginable.
I’m not like you? Could he have conjured worse words in that moment?
Oh, and the hurt etched into that beautiful face. Not only from his thoughtless words but from her heartbreaking confession.
Finn couldn’t erase it from his mind. Those bright amethyst eyes turning gray and lifeless. The carefully cool mask she wore to hide the hurt he’d caused all those years ago.
It all made sense. Her reaction to Cody in Finn’s apartment, her trepidation to Finn’s anger when they were locked in the panic room—she had been attacked, imprisoned, abused for a night of emotional and physical torture.
And Finn, being a proud and dense jerk, had not only put her there but had bought in to every line of Cody’s masterful deceit.
How different things might have been had Finn only heeded his father’s advice about the truth? How different Joselyn’s life might be without having suffered such a defining act of violence?
Dear Mom,
Something happened. I have no one, I’ve lost everything … and nobody cares. I’m thinking I’d rather be with you.
The words from Joselyn’s diary wrapped like fingers around his neck and shook him to the bone.
She was haunted still. Might have even tried to take her own life. Something that traumatic couldn’t easily be erased or reconciled.
“Joselyn, forgive me.” He breathed the words into existence. Praying she might somehow be able overcome the devastating consequences of his stupidity. Yes, Cody’s violence had caused this. But knowing Finn could have prevented it brought his every inadequacy to the surface.
If he could have one more chance, Finn would stop at nothing to earn her trust, protect her, and show her exactly how much he’d always loved her.
&nbs
p; Would it be enough?
Well, he’d been trying to barter for forgiveness for all his mistakes so far and that wasn’t going so well.
But with that thought, something invaded Finn’s spirit. Some awakening that was nearly impossible to explain but irrefutable nonetheless.
He needed saving.
Not only today in this crisis, but every moment of every day.
All his life he’d been trying to prove himself worthy, but the truth was, he’d been found worthy all along. It wasn’t about being brave enough or strong enough, because when it came right down to it, it wasn’t about him at all. When I am weak, you are strong. The words nestled into his most vulnerable places, packing into the wounds that had robbed him of his true strength and now readied him for battle. He was made for this. To be a warrior. To stand strong against whatever giants stood in his path and keep on fighting.
And that was exactly what he intended to do. He’d fight it all. The doubt, the fears, the failures. The enemies, in his head and in the flesh. Because somehow he knew, though the battle was just beginning, the war was already won.
The ballroom, the restrooms, the lobby with all those reporters—Joselyn was nowhere to be found.
He must look like a lunatic, but he didn’t care. Joselyn’s safety was the only thing that mattered. So where was she?
Realizing it should have been his first line of defense, he slipped into a quiet hallway lined with small offices and placed a call to Archer.
Not even a full ring later, Archer answered, shouting, “Finn! What happened?”
Burning hot sweat prickled his skin, “I—I—Where’s Joselyn?”
The distinct sound of a stretcher retched in the background, muffled sounds of medical jargon crept through the speaker.
“She’s gone, Finn!” Archer barked his fury, which, to Finn, only meant one thing.
From Winter's Ashes: Girl Next Door Crime Romance Series - Book Two Page 29
