His hand had got as far as the wood on the front door when he heard Molly shriek, and the piercing sound had chilled him to the bone. A quick glance in the front window gave him everyone’s positions. Then he ran around the building and picked the lock on the residential access. Beside him there was the cellar door, and after forcing it, he got downstairs. The ladder for the trapdoor was still in position and the hatch was serendipitously unlocked.
Entering by the trapdoor gave him the valuable element of surprise, which he wouldn’t have gotten by bursting into the front bar. But he hadn’t bargained on the surprise he would get. Molly was frozen with fear and that disgusting scum had his hands on her. The rest of the experience was a blur.
Starting on the one violating Molly, Blake hadn’t had his chance to punish the guy fully because his cohort tried to flee, and Blake wasn’t about to let that happen. He leapt the bar to restrain the perpetrator, but his focus on restraining him was broken when he heard Molly shriek again. But she had held her own at that point; she got the guy a cracker in the nuts. She might have freed herself, but Blake wouldn’t leave it to her because he wanted the pair of cretins as far from her as possible.
‘Are they gone?’
Pulling his wet hands from his face, Blake peered over his shoulder into the dark kitchen and noticed Molly in the doorway. The blood he had inadvertently smeared on her face when he touched her in the bar was now gone.
‘All dealt with,’ he said.
‘I figured I should lock up,’ she said, holding up the keys.
Grabbing a towel from the rail by the sink, Blake dried off his hands as he approached her. ‘Let me,’ he said, reaching for the key, and she handed it over without protest.
‘Will you put the money in the safe?’ she asked and gave him another key.
‘Sure.’
Blake did as he was told. Leaving her in the kitchen, he locked the front door and took the proceeds to the safe, where he locked them up tight. The cellar lock would need to be replaced, but that was a job for tomorrow. The keys felt so small in his hand as he carried them back to the kitchen. So small and yet so significant.
He cursed himself for leaving her alone in an unsecured building when she was vulnerable there alone, especially with all that cash. He chastised himself as though she were under his protection, but he had to remind himself that she was a suspect. Molly could be a merciless killer of men, so maybe it was really the perpetrators that he saved.
When he walked into the kitchen, his breathing faltered. From her place, seated in a chair at the table in the centre of the room, she examined her body beneath her ribs where her shirt was torn and blood seeped through. He hadn’t realised that she had been hurt, and when he did it didn’t take him a second to find his way to her side. Before the thought processed itself, he was on his knees at her side.
‘You didn’t tell me you were hurt,’ he said. ‘I asked if you were hurt, why didn’t you tell me that you were bleeding?’
‘It’s nothing,’ she said. ‘Just a scratch. I’ll have a bath when you go.’
‘Let me see.’
‘I’ll be ok, Blake. You’ve done enough.’
‘It will only take a second,’ he said. ‘Please, it will make me feel better. I have to know that it’s not serious.’
Molly sighed. ‘It’s a fuss about nothing.’
At the same time he reached for the seam of her shirt, she went for the buttons. Before she could unfasten any, Blake had the two sides of the seam in his hands and he ripped them apart. Molly gasped and flinched away from him.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s the easiest way.’
She slowly nodded, and when he caught sight of her wide, wet, innocent eyes gazing down at him, he pushed his lips together and swallowed down the thoughts that her desperate demeanour gave him and forced himself to focus on her wound. She was right in that it wasn’t bad. The blade had cut her, but it wasn’t too deep, and she wouldn’t need stitches. His fingertips brushed the drying blood from her skin, but when they made contact, her breath caught in her throat and her body jerked from him, so he drew his hand back.
‘I won’t hurt you, Mol.’
‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘It’s just tender.’
The physical contact had been brief and light, and he hadn’t touched her anywhere near the worst of the injury. Pain wasn’t the reason for her reaction, and to his surprise her hand rose to his forehead. As she combed her fingers through his hair to brush his hair away from his forehead, he maintained their visual union.
‘You’re more hurt than I am,’ she murmured. ‘I am so sorry, Blake. I didn’t want you to get hurt.’
‘It’s nothing,’ he said.
Her delicate fingertips traced the wound on his temple, and he had to steady himself by resting his hand on her thigh. She brushed blood from his brow and stroked her way down his cheek. Weakness, that had nothing to do with his crouched position, threatened his legs. Her gentle caress on his face and her soft, ashamed eyes scanning his every feature made him tremble. Him! Blake had never been weak in the presence of a woman in his life.
‘You’re shaking,’ he said. ‘Are you cold? You could be going into shock. You should get warm.’
‘It’s not shock,’ she murmured.
Her nail scraped against his stubble until her finger found its way to his bloodied lip, which hadn’t actually split. His tooth had cut his cheek inside his mouth.
‘What is it then?’ he asked.
‘We should get you cleaned up,’ she said, and lifted his hand from her lap. ‘There’s a first aid box in the bathroom.’
‘I’ve never seen one,’ Blake said, as they stood up together.
‘Upstairs.’
‘Oh.’
Seating himself at the kitchen table, he reluctantly released her hand. Molly headed for the door, then paused to glance over her shoulder.
‘Are you coming?’ she asked.
‘Upstairs?’
The idea that she would take him up the stairs hadn’t even occurred to him, and he found himself wanting to be in her head because her countenance betrayed nothing of her intention. Her usual sparkle was returning, but that could just as easily be from her gratefulness at being alive and her virtue remaining intact. So, he wasn’t going to read anything into her invitation. No man would make a move on a woman on the same night that she had been assaulted. Certainly, no decent man.
‘It’s where the first aid kit is,’ she said, and extended her hand to him.
Blake wasn’t going to double check, because he wanted her trust. Pushing away from the chair, he took her hand and let her lead him down the hall to the stairs, where she flipped on the light that he had fixed earlier in the night to ingratiate himself with her. As they ascended the stairs, he told himself that he shouldn’t be apprehensive about this because this was the whole point of the exercise. He had to get close to this woman.
Maybe the method wasn’t exactly conventional, but the robbery had been a stroke of luck. Instantly, he berated himself for such a callous thought. Molly had been terrorised in her own space, where she was meant to be safe, and she wouldn’t see it as lucky in any scenario.
Blake scanned the new floor as it appeared. The floor was carpeted with a worn, dark beige carpet. A hall ran parallel to the stairs, and there were three doors leading off it, two on one wall and one perpendicular. The walls were covered in a hideous wallpaper. Beige and burgundy vertical stripe at the bottom, a burgundy border to split it, and beige with gold stencil on the top half of the wall.
‘It’s not much to look at,’ Molly said, and her hand grew moist in his. From the shift in her weight he could tell that she was embarrassed.
‘It’s great.’
‘I haven’t decorated the hall since dad died. We did downstairs, but… I didn’t have the means to do upstairs too.’
‘I’m not interested in the decor,’ he murmured, and touched her chin.
A smile adorned her face, which told hi
m that he’d succeeded in reassuring her. Molly opened the door facing them and pulled a cord light to reveal that they were entering a bathroom. The suite was avocado, a shower hung over the bath, and the room had the same worn beige carpet on the floor.
‘Sit,’ she said and, pulled him to the bath, so he propped himself down on the edge of it.
Molly opened the mirrored cabinet above the sink, which was perpendicular to him, and pulled out a small plastic box. Opening it out, she retrieved alcohol wipes and gauze, then lowered herself to the floor, where she knelt in front of him and tore open a packet to pull out the wipe. To his horror and delight, she shifted to between his knees, put her hands to his thighs, and pushed herself up to examine his wound.
‘It’s fine, Mol, you don’t have to—‘
‘This might sting,’ she said.
Holding his hair away from his forehead with one hand, Molly began to trace the wipe around the edge of his injury. The liquid seeped into the cut, causing Blake to hiss at the sting.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘It will just take a minute.’
During her task she leaned ever closer, studying his wound as she cleaned it. Blake closed his eyes to try and block out her proximity, because as her hand moved back and forth her chest brushed his. Inching ever closer, her stomach eventually grazed his groin.
‘Honestly, Molly, this is fine,’ he said, and leapt to his feet, forcing her to lean back.
‘Don’t be a baby.’
His jeans tightened when he glimpsed down at her engaging smile. There she was on her knees in front of him. Her cherry lips were only inches from the buttons on his jeans. Blake knew that he had to compose himself.
‘I’m not,’ he said. ‘Really, it’s fine.’
‘I haven’t dressed it,’ she said. ‘I don’t want it to get infected. I wouldn’t want to cause you any more pain.’
‘You didn’t cause me any pain,’ he said. ‘I’ve dealt with bastards like that all my life.’
‘You wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me. You work for me. You’re my responsibility.’
‘I’m my own responsibility,’ he said. ‘You didn’t make me come back.’
‘Why did you come back?’
He thought about this, about the truth versus the appropriate answer. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Will you let me finish?’ she asked. ‘Please.’
‘I’ve been hurt worse than this in the past,’ he said. ‘It’s just a scratch.’
She sighed and he squeezed his eyes shut against the rush of hot breath she sent cascading over his groin. ‘Fine,’ she huffed. ‘Be a baby.’
While throwing the wipe into the sink, she reached for his hand, so he took her palm in his and pulled her to her feet. ‘I should let you get some sleep.’
‘Would you help me first?’ she asked.
‘Help you what?’
As she ran her hands into her hair, she turned to the mirror. ‘Why do you think they do it?’
‘Do what?’ Blake asked.
‘Men…’ she started, and scratched her lip. Then her hand trailed to her chest and her fingertips ran across the swell of her breast.
‘Not all men do it.’
‘I know. But how can there be pleasure in a moment that causes another such torture?’
‘There are various reasons,’ Blake said. ‘More often than not it’s about power.’
‘Most men are stronger than women. There are men stronger than him downstairs on most nights. They could force themselves on any woman. But they don’t.’
‘They’re sick,’ Blake said. ‘I don’t mean in an “insanity, not responsible for their actions” way. They are disgusting and perverted.’
‘Why would some men do it and not others?’ she asked. ‘What switch in their heads flips and makes them think that it is ok?’
‘I don’t know,’ Blake said. ‘A lot of them have deep-seated psychological issues.’
‘I was scared of him,’ Molly said, staring at her reflection in the mirror. ‘He made me feel ill.’
‘He threatened you,’ Blake said. ‘It’s natural.’
‘As soon as he touched me, I knew… even before he uttered a word. I knew what was on his mind.’
‘You’re astute,’ Blake said. ‘You’re also a beautiful woman. I’m sure you know most men are attracted to you.’
‘Is that an excuse?’ Molly asked. ‘Does that make it my fault?’
‘It’s not your fault,’ Blake said, taking her hand from her chest and into his. ‘Don’t ever think it was your fault.’
‘You’ve told me I’m beautiful before.’
‘You are.’
‘You’re strong. Stronger than the men downstairs.’
‘So?’ he asked.
‘We’re alone,’ she said, and drew her eyes to his. ‘No one knows we’re here.’
‘No.’
‘Why am I not scared of you, Blake? You could take whatever you want from me. The minute you first walked into the bar downstairs, you intimidated everyone in the room. Just the look of you should instil fear.’ Her breath hitched, but she swallowed it away. ‘I don’t even know you… But I’m not scared.’
‘Good,’ Blake said, cupping her cheek. ‘I said I would never hurt you, and I meant it.’
‘I believe you,’ she murmured, and flashed him a smile. ‘I don’t know why… but I do.’
‘Good,’ he said again. ‘Now what can I help you with?’
Her hand left his when her attention went back to the mirror, and Blake held his breath when he saw that she was unfastening the buttons on her shirt. As much as he wanted to watch, to see her slowly strip so he could memorise every detail of her body beneath the apparel, he knew he had taken all that he could tonight. The ache behind the buttons on his jeans was becoming agony, she brought him to solid torture. For his own health, Blake had to temper his desire to indulge in the sight of her. So while lowering his head to his hands, he turned his back on her. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the shirt drift onto the floor. While rubbing his cheeks, he groaned, and hoped he managed to keep the sound internal.
‘It’s ok,’ Molly said. ‘Here.’
Trying to think about sports, and the guys at the station, Blake turned in hope of minimising the impact she would have on him, but the mundane thoughts didn’t help. In the mirror, her torso was reflected to him and he scrutinised every detail. Her white satin bra held her breasts in place for his visual consumption. The deep V of her bra met at the bottom of her cleavage with an inch-long horizontal strip of satin joining the cups. Her clothing might not be exotic, but Blake couldn’t remember seeing such a perfect, sensual sight ever before. One thought swirled in his mind, and it was of burying his head between the swells and kissing her bra from existence.
‘Blake,’ she laughed, extracting him from his daze.
Looking to her face didn’t ease his pain. Her chin was tipped to her shoulder, and her hair hung around her face shadowing her expression. They peered through her locks at him, and the sparkle they conveyed fired to his soul. It took him a few seconds to realise that she was waving a wipe toward him. On clearing his throat, he dropped his focus to the floor, and took the wipe.
Molly lifted her arm to his shoulder, giving him the opportunity to zero in on her injury, under her arm, at the base of her ribs. This casual movement, of her draping herself over him, shot a bolt of heated blood through him, and now she wanted him to touch her. Once again, Blake repeated in his mind that she was a suspect, but reiterating it didn’t help. Trying to swallow moisture into his thirsty mouth was futile, because there was nothing left to take to his throat. Though the wipe didn’t offer much protection, he wrapped it around his fingers, lowered himself, and closed his eyes as he touched it to her wound.
Her instinct was to hiss and flex away from him. ‘Sorry,’ she said, causing her breath to meet his cheek, which wrung another groan from him. ‘I said I was sorry. I’ll be good, keep going. I swear I won’t move.�
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Molly must have interpreted his groan as one of impatience. For the sake of his job, he could attribute it to that, but impatience wasn’t what he felt when nursing her. His impatience came because taking her from that skirt and enveloping himself in her body now was forbidden.
Maintaining his focus on the job at hand, Blake traced her side with the wipe. Heat from her skin seeped onto his fingers, and he began to mentally recite various SOP guidelines. The distraction worked until he accidentally rubbed the centre of the injury. A yelp hid itself in her throat, but her hand grasped the back of his neck until her fingernails dug into his already sensitive flesh and he knew he was done.
‘Ok, it’s fine,’ he said, and dropped the wipe into the sink.
‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose it needs covering. I should take a shower.’
He wanted to ask her what the point of him wiping it out was if she was just going to shower. But it wasn’t unusual. Someone had touched her without permission. The scum might not have got as far as he would have liked, but it was still a violation of her.
‘Ok,’ Blake said. ‘I’ll leave you to it. When do you need me next?’
‘Actually, would you mind hanging around? I’ll be as quick as I can, I promise… I just… I don’t want to jump at every sound I hear while I’m in there. If I know you’re here, then I know that no one can sneak up on me.’
Staring past her, he bobbed his head in assent. ‘Sure,’ he said, hooking his thumbs into his jeans.
‘You can go downstairs and have a drink if you want, a real one… or my bedroom is the second door on the right.’
‘Your bedroom?’ he asked, consumed with the shock of her invitation, but Molly exhaled a laugh.
‘There is a TV in my bedroom. I don’t have a living room as such, so there is nowhere to hang out here except in my room or downstairs. It’s your call.’
Blake nodded and watched her turn on the shower. For a second he considered asking her if he could hang out right here and watch her up close, but he thought better of it because he couldn’t make a move on her tonight. For one thing, Choker killed victims in their own homes, not in hers, so his attempts tonight would be useless to the case. Though it was also possible that Choker developed relationships with these men before she killed them, perhaps even physical relationships.
Reluctant Suspicion Page 8
