Something definitely wasn't right. Her legs began to shake. She wished desperately that she wasn't wearing four inch heels. Not that it was her choice. Colin chose her apparel for these visits. It rarely deviated. He liked the easy access of the coat, heels and nothing else.
She stepped further into the apartment, allowing the door to close behind her. The sound of the muffled slam made her jump. Her heart pounded in fear and her palms dampened. She smelled something metallic.
Blood.
She bit her lip to hold back a whimper. “C-Colin?" she whispered. Then realized he wouldn’t possibly be able to hear her unless he was standing right next to her.
"Colin!" she called in a stronger voice.
When he didn't answer she took a few more steps closer to what used to be her kitchen before the divorce. Before Colin had taken everything from her and then demanded more every month after. A $25,000 payment and her on her back with her legs spread, a willing vessel for him to use as many times as he wanted before kicking her out like some dirty whore. Something he liked to call her during their hours together. She shuddered.
With shaking fingers, she reached for the light and pushed. The bright overhead light blinded her for a moment. She blinked and then turned her head toward the metallic smell, forcing herself to brave the possibility that something might have happened to Colin. She gasped in horror as she took in a pool of blood that was far too big for someone to simply walk away from.
She whimpered and backed away from the kitchen, intent on reaching the door, her eyes glued to the blood. It was almost perfect in its shiny depth, the way it was spread across the floor. No smears, or prints to mar its glassy surface. She forced herself to blink and continue moving toward the door. She would call the police as soon as she got down to the lobby.
Her heels were the only sound in the apartment as she shuffled slowly backward toward the door keeping her eyes on the blood, as though it would somehow attack her. Before she could reach the door, her back hit a solid wall of muscle. She opened her mouth to scream and would have jumped away, but a hand clamped over her lips and another around her waist, pinning her arms to her side. She was dragged backwards into the heat of a very hard, very male body.
She knew instantly the man holding her wasn’t Colin. Her ex-husband was the same height as her when she wore heels. And he wasn’t near as hard as whoever was pressed against her back. This man was rock solid. Was this man responsible for the massive pool of blood on the floor? Of their own volition, her eyes fell to the crimson lake. She tried to struggle, but the man held her so tight, all she could do was wiggle helplessly against him.
He groaned and pushed his face into the back of her neck, nudging his nose into the short blond hair and breathing deeply. W-was he actually smelling her? He tilted her head to the side and forward a little so she was forced to look down. He ran his nose down the exposed arch of her throat from her ear all the way down to her shoulder. He was definitely inhaling her scent. His lips teased her shoulder and he tugged the sleeve of her coat a little until it moved toward the edge of her shoulder exposing more skin.
Oh god, what was he doing? Was this man going to rape her in her ex-husband’s apartment? Had Colin’s depraved mind come up with some new kind of punishment? But how did that explain the blood? Somehow, she knew deep inside that the blood belonged to Colin. Just as she knew no one could survive the loss of that much. She whimpered against the hand.
Her fear seemed to penetrate his fascination with her skin. He straightened to his full height, which was still several inches taller than her, even in heels. Though his broad palm remained firmly over her mouth, he used his thumb to rub her cheek soothingly as though to calm her. She blinked rapidly as his thumb brushed too close to her eye, her eyelashes sweeping over the rough pad. He groaned again from behind her and tightened his arm in response, pulling her further into the cradle of his thighs. She gasped into his hand, feeling the rigid length of his cock through the back of her coat.
Then she caught sight of the tattoo that ran along the edge of his forefinger. His trigger finger. It said, “For Dexter.” Her dead brother's name. She stiffened in his arms, anger suffusing her as she realized exactly who held her. She didn’t bother struggling. There was no point. He was too tall and outweighed her by a lot. The bastard also had a ton more street fighting experience than she did and wasn’t afraid to fight dirty.
He chuckled darkly from behind her. He knew the exact moment she realized who he was. He dropped his hand from her lips, no longer worried that she would scream bloody murder, and slid it down the front of her body. He wrapped both arms around her waist, still keeping her arms pinned to her sides and dragged her tightly back against him. He thrust his erection into her ass.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed angrily.
“Think that’s pretty obvious,” he growled, bending his head to speak in her ear. “Come for you, pretty lady.”
She shivered against him, her eyes falling on the blood. “Wh-what did you do to Colin?” she asked, her voice both a plea and a hope.
His body became rigid, his arms so like steel bands around her that they hurt. He didn't speak for a moment. She got the feeling he was controlling himself so he didn’t say or do something he might regret. She frowned, her breath catching in her throat. Roman would never hurt her. Would he?
“You don't have to worry about him anymore.”
Katie opened her mouth to argue with him, but he brought his hand up to cut her off, pressing his palm against her lips once more. “You don't want to talk to me about your husband right now, Katie. Nod if you understand?”
She shivered and nodded quickly. She wanted to know what he did to Colin, but Roman was like a wild animal. He’d always been dangerous and unpredictable. There was no telling what he was going to do next. Until she was in a better position. Like on the other side of a locked door, her questions could wait. He moved his hand again.
“What happens now?” she whispered, hoping that one question would be okay. Was he going to let her run back to her life now that he’d done whatever he’d come to do?
“You come with me, like you should have years ago when I asked you to.”
She gasped and jerked in his arms. “Impossible!” she told him.
She had a job in Milan in just a few days. She absolutely couldn't go with Roman. She knew the odds of his letting her out of his sight. The man had an eerie way of tracking people. The only way she’d managed to escape him all those years ago was because she’d begged him to let her go. And for some reason her opinion had always mattered to the street hardened criminal.
“Not impossible, Katie,” he growled at her. “In fact, it’s a fucking promise. You’re coming with me this time. I’m done living without you.”
“No!” she gasped out, lunging in his arms. “You can't do that, Roman. I have a life. I won't go with you!”
“I’ve been watching you, Katie, my love,” he growled at her, lowering her struggling body to the floor as she twisted in his arms. He took her elbows and locked them behind her in one strong grip. He pulled something from his pocket with his other hand. “You live a half-life. I’m done watching from the shadows while you slowly kill yourself. It’s time to start living again.”
“With you?” she spat out, glaring at him over her shoulder.
“With me,” he confirmed.
When she realized what he held, she begged him to stop. She threatened him and tried to kick him with her sharp heels. He ignored her threats and her pleas. He pinned her to the floor, lifted her coat to her thigh, baring the smooth naked skin. He froze when he realized she was completely bare underneath. Then he shoved his hand roughly into her coat to confirm his suspicion, cupping her bare breast.
She gasped and surged up into his hands. He slammed her back into the floor, treating her with a lack of care she’d never felt from him before. He leaned over her, his breathing finally as heavy as hers and growled in her ear, “Knew the fucker
was blackmailing you. Had no idea you liked it enough to spread your legs. Maybe I should’ve let him live and just walked away from your mess.”
She screamed and fought to get away from him. He cut her screams off with a heavy hand over her lips and plunged the syringe viciously into her thigh while she beat at his chest. After a few seconds, she stopped fighting, her body gradually going limp beneath him. He pulled her across his lap, cradling her head against his arm, and smoothed the coat over her nakedness.
She watched his dark, sinister face as she drifted into unconsciousness. The only man she ever truly loved. The man she feared above all others. He’d finally come for her.
Look for Thieving Hearts coming out Fall 2017!
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Bonus: Excerpt from Because You’re Mine
"She's been hurt."
The three simple words sent a chill through Jay's heart, dissolving his annoyance at the interruption. He dismissed the two men he'd been meeting with and turned to Greg with a raised brow. Words weren't necessary. Greg had been his right hand for nine years. He understood exactly how much Allie meant to Jay.
"Allison was taken to the hospital in an ambulance twenty minutes ago. Preliminary reports say a knife wound to the arm and across her side. The cuts don't appear to be life threatening, but deep enough to need stitches."
Jay's fury rose with each word. Renowned as he was for icy calm and deliberate control, Allie was the only person that could draw this kind of feeling from him. He struggled to contain the rage so he could ask the requisite questions. It wasn't necessary. Greg knew exactly what he wanted.
"She was working in one of the addiction offices at the soup kitchen. Apparently a fight broke out among the clients being served in line. She left her office and tried to intervene on her own."
"Of course she did," Jay managed from between gritted teeth.
He turned his back on Greg and stared out the window of his office to the dockyard beyond. It was just like Allie to think with her heart instead of her head. It was going to be the last time she would be allowed to do that. He'd stood in the shadows long enough. He gave her what she wanted. She'd lived her life the way she'd wanted. Now it was his turn.
"Her husband?" he snapped, knowing the answer, but needing to hear anyway.
Greg shook his head. "She sent him a text while she was waiting for the ambulance. Apparently the little prick’s too busy to go to the hospital himself. Said he'd send someone to pick her up and take her home when she's been patched up."
Jay clenched his fingers on the windowsill and narrowed his eyes on a vessel slowly making dock. It was one of theirs. ”What did she say?"
"She told him not to worry. Said she wanted to catch a cab back to the kitchen. She has to meet with one more client before she goes home and then pick up her car. She plans on driving herself home."
"His response?" Jay demanded.
Greg hesitated, then replied, "He told her not to keep supper waiting for him, he's going to be working late again. I'm checking into it, but at a guess, he's meeting with his side whore."
Jay felt wrath rise up and knew if Derrick were in the room with him he'd be on his knees begging for his life. Jay had despised the idea of this marriage, yet had allowed it to go forward, since it was what she wanted. And what Allie wanted was everything to him.
No more. He would harden his heart to the only thing in the world that could touch him. Her safety would come above all things, including her wishes. It was time. Past time.
"Get the plane ready, we're bringing my girl home."
***
Allie pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders and tried to curl her legs into her chest without pulling on her fresh stitches. She tried to calm the shivers that wracked her body, but they kept coming. She was laying on a cot, tucked into the far corner of one of the wings of the emergency room in the Regina General Hospital. She wanted to ask for a blanket, but didn't want to disturb any of the busy staff that were rushing by her tiny curtained cubicle.
She'd been in the hospital for nearly three hours. The first hour had been waiting to get into the cubicle, the next had been waiting to see a doctor and the third had been waiting for her doctor to sign the release forms. She wished she could say it was just an extra busy day at the hospital. She knew better. It was always like this. She'd accompanied people there on more than one occasion.
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to suppress another shiver. Sighing she ran her hand lightly over her arm, avoiding the heavy bandage on her bicep. Her fingers caught in the tangled strands of long dark hair. She shoved it out of the way impatiently and moaned when she jostled her arm. She wiggled her hips in an attempt to get more comfortable on the small metal frame bed when the curtain moved and light flooded her eyes.
Allie blinked up as a man stepped forward. He wasn't wearing scrubs like the nurses and doctors.
She frowned and blinked in the harsh light. "Derrick?"
She knew she was wrong though. Derrick said he wasn't coming. He barely cared enough to acknowledge her text. It was only her stupid heart that hoped he might rush to his injured wife's bedside that made her send that text in the first place. He wasn't even coming home from work to check on her. That was how much he cared. No, the man standing before her was not her husband.
"Hello, Allie."
Heart thundering, Allie pushed herself up using her good arm. She blinked against the brightness of the light, her mouth opening in disbelief. It was impossible. He couldn't be here with her. Could he? Yet the deep, measured voice could belong to no one else.
He looked so good it made her body ache in a way nothing else could. He looked older than she remembered. It had been five years since she last saw him briefly at Veronica’s wedding. His hair was completely grey now, prematurely, she thought. He was thirty-nine. His grey eyes looked wearier, harder than she remembered, framed by lines that weren't there before. His body leaner, as though he didn't eat enough. He exuded solid strength though, despite the lean frame.
"Jay," she whispered, tears filling her eyes.
His eyes caressed her face and the corner of his lip lifted in a tiny smile, softening the always present hard edge. The only time she'd ever seen Jay Le Croix smile was for her or her mother. Never for anyone else. Allie lifted her arms, ignoring the painful pull of her stitches and leaned forward trusting him to catch her as she slid forward off the bed. Strong arms enveloped her, holding her tight. She breathed in his familiar scent as he rocked her against the strength of his body. One hand cupped the back of her head, holding it against his shoulder, while the other hand swept down her back comfortingly. He was careful not to touch her where she’d been cut. Somehow he’d found out about her injuries and come to her.
They stood that way for a long time, looking to all the world like a couple in love locked in an embrace. Finally, Allie indicated she was ready to pull away. Reluctantly Jay allowed her a few inches of space. She looked eagerly up at him, taking in all of his features. Jay ran his fingers lightly through her long, dark brown tresses, automatically restoring some order to the wavy chaos with his reassuring touch. Despite an age difference of ten years he had been her best friend for much of her life.
When Allie had been a child, her mother had watched over the orphan boy as though he were her own. Veronica had made sure he was fed when his foster homes forgot. More than once she'd given him a roof over his head when things got too bad to stay in his placement. When he was old enough to care for himself, he returned the favour by watching over Veronica and her young daughter. He made sure none of Veronica's clients got too rough and he helped Veronica get clean when she was ready to make the choice. When he was able to run a crew of his own, Jay worked his way up the streets until he was able to create enough legitimate business opportunities that he could get Veronica and Allie off the streets.
Allie adored Jay all of her life. Her mother assured her the infatuation would wane. It didn't. With
each passing year it only grew until Allie became old enough that Jay began noticing Allie too. Veronica and Jay agreed that Allie was too good for the life he'd chosen. The life that had chosen him. She was destined for better things. When Allie turned eighteen and graduated from high school, her excellent grades and, unbeknownst to her, Jay’s maneuvering, earned her a scholarship to a university two provinces away. Allie didn't want to go. But Jay had insisted.
The separation had been difficult. She'd cried for him every night. She'd written him letters and phoned him. He never answered her letters and rarely picked up her calls. When he had, it was monosyllabic responses before abruptly ending the call. Confused and hurt, she'd finally decided to forge a life without him. When she visited her mother, she stubbornly avoided talking about him and almost never saw him. The last time she'd heard from Jay was three years ago to receive his decline to her wedding and an extremely beautiful pearl necklace as a wedding gift.
She'd only seen him twice in the ten years since he’d sent her away. The last time she'd actually seen Jay had been at Veronica's wedding five years ago. He'd walked the bride down the aisle, turned to Allie, held her close for several seconds pressing his lips against her temple and then leaving abruptly. The time before that was seven years ago when he'd come to her apartment out of the blue. She’d just graduated from the Addictions Education program and had accepted a job as an Addictions Counsellor. He wanted her to quit.
"It's too dangerous, Allison."
"Of course it's not! It’s perfect for me. It’s something that I've always wanted to do. With the way I grew up and my mother’s past, its practically the only think that makes sense for me. Why can't you just support me in this?" she'd pleaded with him.
"Support you? I pulled you out of the fucking gutter! Now you want to jump in head first. I refuse to support this shit."
"Jay! You don't get to dictate to me. You shut me out of your life years ago. Now I'm living it the way I want to."
Driven by Desire Page 21
