by Hannah Ford
When I’d been in there so long that my fingers were pruney and my body as relaxed as it was going to get, I climbed out and began to get ready for bed even though it was still early. I brushed my teeth and washed my face, then pulled on a pair of pajamas that Noah had laid out for me -- a teeny little pink tank top with spaghetti straps that clung to my tits and a matching see-through thong.
When I came out of the bathroom he was sitting on the bed, reading on his iPad. He’d showered in the guest bath, and his hair was damp and mussed, but he hadn’t shaved, and stubble darkened his cheeks. He was dressed in black track pants and a crisp white t-shirt that showed off his tan skin and clung to the roped cords of his biceps.
“Hi,” I said shyly.
“Hey, gorgeous.” He stood up and took my hand, began to lead me over to my side of the bed. But I caught sight of something outside, a glimpse red and blue and white lights flashing, the beams dancing off the glass window pane.
I peeked outside to see a police car pulling up across the street, the lights flashing.
“Is that because of me?” I asked, placing my hand against the glass.
Noah nodded gravely. “Yes.”
“They think Professor Worthington might come here?”
He hesitated. “They’re not sure.”
“They think he wants to hurt me.”
“They think it’s more likely that he wants to escape more than he wants to hurt you. So it’s just a precaution. They’re keeping an eye on the building.”
He was standing behind me and he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me toward him and resting his chin on my head. I breathed in the scent of him, his laundry detergent and the clean scent of his soap. His body enveloped mine and I closed my eyes for a moment, enjoying the safe feeling of being in his arms.
“And you’re okay with that?” I asked. I knew how he felt about the police, how he didn’t trust them to get it right. I felt him tense behind me and I turned around. “Noah?”
“Yes, I’m okay with it.”
But I could see something else in his eyes. “What?” I demanded. “What is it?”
“As long as we have backups in place, I could give a fuck what the police do.”
“What do you mean, back ups?”
“I’ve hired a private security team.”
“Like bodyguards?” I shook my head. “No. Absolutely not.”
He placed his hands on my shoulders. “You won’t even know they’re there.”
My eyes filled with tears and I squeezed them shut. “I hate this. I hate that it’s happening.”
“Hey,” Noah said, and he reached down and tipped my chin up, his gaze searching my face. “I told you I would keep you safe. Do you believe that?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Then let me take care of everything.”
I sniffed. “Okay.”
He wrapped his arms back around me, his body enveloping mine, and I leaned my head against his chest as the lights from the police cruiser swirled around outside and I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, he was right and that everything really would be okay.
* * *
My mother never came home that night. She sent me a text just before midnight, saying that she wouldn’t be returning to Noah’s, that she was staying over at her friend’s apartment. I was too tired to question it, and too annoyed that she’d woken me up to wonder whether or not it was strange.
I read the text and then returned my phone to the nightstand. I rolled over and listened to the sound of Noah’s breathing, soft and steady. He looked relaxed in sleep, but the fact that he’d gone to bed so early betrayed the toll the day had taken on him. He never went to bed this early, instead staying up late working and then getting up early to go running or lift at the gym.
He must have felt me stirring, because he woke, too, smiled at me sleepily, then reached for me and snuggled me close to him, his lips brushing against my neck. “I love you, baby,” he murmured groggily.
Docket sighed in contentment at our feet, and I closed my eyes and fell back asleep.
When I woke again, it was nine am, and Docket was barking as he ran into the room and jumped onto the bed where he immediately began to lick my face. I giggled. He was too cute for him to be annoyed with him.
Noah appeared a second later, dressed in his running clothes, holding a plate of toast with peanut butter and a cup of coffee.
“Morning, sleepy. “ He set the plate and the coffee cup down on the nightstand next to me. “You must have been tired.”
“I was,” I said, reaching for the coffee and taking a sip. I’d never been into coffee until I’d met Noah, and now I was starting to get used to it, to need it in the morning, just another one of my new addictions that he was responsible for.
“We’ve already been out for a run, haven’t we, Docket?” he asked.
Docket barked happily, then grabbed a piece of toast off the dish and ran into the living room with it.
“Docket!” Noah called after him, but Docket paid him no mind.
“You know there’s going to be peanut butter all over the couch now,” I said, biting back my laughter. I thought it was hilarious that Noah could control everyone in his orbit except for a dog.
Noah sighed and shook his head, then stood up and stripped off his t-shirt. I shivered as my eyes roamed over the V of his hips.
“I’m going to shower, then I have some running around to do,” he said.
I stopped with my coffee cup halfway to my lips. “What kind of running around?”
“Some things I need to take care of for the Lilah Parks case.”
“Oh.” I set the coffee cup down on the nightstand. “Are you going to see Lilah?”
“No.” He was in the bathroom now, talking to me through the open door, and I heard the sound of the shower turning on.
“Then were are you going?”
“To talk to one of the girls in the those pictures.”
“What pictures?” I asked.
Noah returned to the doorway of the bathroom and leaned against the doorframe, his body language relaxed and languid. “The ones on Ryan Aqualino’s cell phone.”
“Oh, you mean the phone that Clementine stole from the murder scene?” I asked, not bothering to hide the sarcasm from my voice or the fact that I was enjoying taking a shot at Clementine.
“Yes.” He said it simply, like it was normal for someone to steal evidence from a murder scene and not something that could get you disbarred and/or arrested. “But if I can talk to one of the girls on that phone and get her to testify, then the stolen phone won’t be an issue now, will it?”
I nodded grudgingly. He was being smart. He was going to try to find a way to get Ryan’s proclivity for torturing women brought up during trial without having to use the phone.
“I’ll go with you.” I picked up the remaining piece of peanut butter toast and took a bite nonchalantly, like it was a given that I would go with him. And why shouldn’t it have been? I was working on the case, too. I had a right to be involved in whatever it was that Noah was doing.
But obviously Noah didn’t feel the same way, because he shook his head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s too dangerous.”
“What’s too dangerous?” I pressed.
“Driving around New York City looking for prostitutes.”
“How do you know they were prostitutes?”
“Clementine did some digging.”
Of course she did. “And you’ve identified one of the women in the pictures?”
Noah nodded.
“What makes you think she’s going to talk to you?”
His mouth twitched into a grin. “My charming personality.”
I smiled, and he crossed the room and sat down on the bed next to me, then smoothed a strand of hair back from my face. “It’s Saturday morning, Charlotte. You’ve been through a lot. You should stay here and relax. Try not to think about school or the
case.”
“I don’t want to stay here. If I stay here, all I’m going to be doing is thinking about school and the case and...” I couldn’t bring myself to say his name. My hand tightened around the blanket under me, twisting the fabric hard between my fingers.
He sighed. “It’s not safe.”
“Oh, and I’m safe here?” I countered.
“Yes.” He nodded. “There will be a guard stationed outside the apartment, and three more outside of the building.” I shook my head. “I don’t want to stay here with guards watching me, Noah. I want to go with you. I feel safer with you.” It was true. Yes, I wanted to go with him, and I knew there was a chance that me telling him I felt safer going with him would change his mind.
But it was also true – I did feel safer with him.
How could I feel safe here with just some guard who I’d never even met before?
“Then I’ll stay here. I’ll send someone else to go talk to Bella.”
“No!” My hand was twisting the blanket so hard now that I could feel my nails digging into my palms through the fabric. “Don’t you understand? If we do that, then Professor Worthington’s won. He wants us to be nervous, he wants us to be scared.”
I reached out and took Noah’s face in my hands.
He closed his eyes and I leaned my forehead against his.
His lips met mine, a soft, sensuous kiss that stoked a hot liquid flame deep in my belly as his stubble brushed against my chin.
“Charlotte,” he said gruffly when he pulled away. “Please understand. I cannot put you in harm’s way.”
“I won’t be in harm’s way. I’ll be with you.” He started to speak, but I cut him off. “Please, Noah. I don’t want to be a prisoner to Professor Worthington. Please.”
His hand rested on my upper arm, his grip tightening as he struggled with his desire to keep me safe and his desire to keep me happy, the two of them battling as I held my breath to see which one would emerge the victor. “Fine,” he said finally. “But you will not speak. You will not move unless I tell you to. Do you understand me?”
“Promise,” I said, and put my hand over my heart.
“I am not kidding, Charlotte.”
“Me neither,” I said, and I was kicking the covers off and running to get dressed.
* * *
Two hours later, Noah and I pulled up in front of a The Sunsplash Diner in Queens. The sign outside was a faded turquoise, with the name of the restaurant spelled out in a swirly script and a palm tree in the center of it. A group of men huddled on the corner of the street, their arms thick with tattoos. A homeless man dressed in a tattered flannel shirt rushed to Noah’s car. He was holding a squeegee and a bucket, and he began to wash the windshield, until Noah rolled down the window and handed him a hundred dollar bill.
The man’s eyes widened, and he shoved it in his pocket and scampered off.
Noah checked the rearview mirror, watching the group of men on the corner. “You stay close to me,” he said. “And do not talk to anyone.”
“Okay.” Suddenly the sound of barking pierced the air and the whole car shook as something pushed against my window. I jumped and leaned toward Noah, pushing my upper body into his. I turned back to see a black dog, his paws up against the window, barking at me maniacally.
A man tugged on his leash and pulled the dog down street, smiling at me as he went, his eyes dead with the look of someone who was coming down from a bad trip. My heart galloped in my chest.
“You okay?” Noah asked, as I slowly disentangled myself from his arms.
“Yes.
“Charlotte,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“If you want me to take you home, just say the word.”
“No. I’m okay.”
He looked at me. “No one is going to hurt you, do you understand me?”
“Because you have the strength of three burly men?” I asked, only half joking.
“No. Because I have the strength of four burly men.”
I laughed as he got out and walked around to my side of the car, opening the door and helping me out.
“Stay close to me,” he commanded, taking my hand and leading me up the sidewalk toward the diner.
He went in first and I followed him, the bell on the door tinkling as the scent of home fries and fresh coffee hit my nose.
“You can have a seat anywhere,” the dark-haired girl behind the register said to us absentmindedly, glancing up at us briefly as she totaled receipts by hand. “If there aren’t any free seats, just put your name on the list.”
Noah and I found a booth at the front of the restaurant against the plate glass windows, the only empty seat in the whole place.
“This place must be popular,” I remarked as Noah pulled menus from behind the container of condiments.
“Hungry?” he asked, opening a menu and setting it down in front of me.
“Starving.”
“Good. You hardly ate anything yesterday.” He looked out the plate glass window, his eyes scanning the street for threats like a soldier scanning the perimeter.
“So what do we know about this girl?” I asked as I studied the list of breakfast items that were laid out on the laminated menu. “Brief me.”
“Her name is Bella. She’s twenty-one years old. She works here fulltime. That’s all I know.”
“If she works here, then how can she be a prostitute, too?”
“Maybe she’s left that behind her.”
“And now we’re here to dredge it all up again?” I asked. “That doesn’t sound like a very good plan.”
But before Noah could answer, a waitress appeared at our table.
“Sorry,” she said. “I hope you guys haven’t been waiting long.” I recognized her immediately from the pictures on Ryan Aqualino’s phone, even though her face had been bruised and battered then. She had dark curly hair and freckles over her nose, her eyes bright and blue. There was a small scar on her chin and I wondered if it was left over from what he’d done to her. She smiled, showing straight white teeth. “We’re short staffed today. Can I get you something to drink? Or are you ready to order?”
“We’re ready to order,” Noah said, without even bothering to consult me. “Blueberry pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs. For both of us. And coffee.”
“You got it,” she said, scribbling it all down on her pad before sticking her pencil behind her ear and heading back toward the kitchen.
I raised my eyebrows at Noah. “Hungry, are you?”
“I find that running really works up my appetite.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yes. That and fucking.” His voice was low and growly, and I knew he was thinking of what we’d done yesterday, how he’d gagged me and pushed my legs up over my had, fucking me until I was sore and aching. Heat rose on my cheeks.
A second later, Bella returned and set down two mugs of coffee.
Once she was gone again, Noah took a sip, wincing at the bitterness.
“Sorry, Mr. Snobby,” I teased, rolling my eyes. “You’ll have to make do with something other than your two-hundred-dollars-a-pound freshly ground French roast.”
“Charlotte, please refrain from name calling,” he said, his hand tightening around the handle of his mug. “And rolling your eyes is a sure way to get yourself punished.”
“Promise?” I asked, enjoying the flash of anger in his eyes at my back talk, the way his jaw tightened as he filed it away for later.
But I knew when it was time to stop pushing my luck. “Okay, so what’s the plan?” I dumped a bunch of sugar and cream into my coffee and stirred it with my spoon before taking a sip. I didn’t know what Noah was being so dramatic about – the coffee tasted fine to me.
“The plan?”
“Yes. Like, how are we going to approach Bella about Ryan?”
“We’re just going to ask her.”
I frowned. “Ask her what?”
“Ask her if she knew Ryan Aqualino.”
/> “She’s going to lie.”
“No, she won’t.”
“Yes, she will.”
“People love to talk about their lives, Charlotte,” Noah said. “You watch.”
“Okay, master,” I said. “Teach me.”
I meant for him to teach me about the law, but an amused look crossed his face. “Oh, don’t you worry about that, Ms. Holloway.”
I blushed again.
When our food came, Noah didn’t ask Bella about her involvement with Ryan. Instead, he dug into his pancakes, watching me carefully as I took a tiny bite. I’d though I was hungry, but now that there was actually food in front of me, I couldn’t bring myself to eat, probably because of all the stress I’d been under.
“Charlotte, you need to eat.” Noah reached across the table and cut my pancakes for me, then doused them in syrup.
“I don’t think so much sugar and so many carbs are good for me.”
“You don’t need to worry about sugar and carbs, you need to worry about eating something so that you don’t get weak.”
I almost laughed at the thought of my curvy body wasting away to nothing, but I took a bite obediently, and was surprised to find that the pancakes actually tasted delicious -- warm and sweet against my tongue. Noah nodded in satisfaction.
“Do you think I should text my mom?” I asked. “I haven’t heard from her since last night.”
“I’m sure she’s fine.”
I dug through my bag and pulled out my phone to see if there was a new text from my mom.
There wasn’t, but there was a notification of a new email.
It was from Dr. Jason Cartwright.
Charlotte,
I’d like to meet with you to discuss what I’m going to be saying at your disciplinary meeting. I don’t want there to be any surprises. Can you stop by my office this afternoon at one o’clock?
Jason
A sick feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t like the way he was calling it a disciplinary meeting. And what did he mean, he didn’t want there to be any surprises? What was he planning on telling them?
“What is it?” Noah demanded, and he reached over and took the phone out of my hands. His face darkened as he read the email.
