by Hanna Peach
I know that she’s smart. I’ve been watching her for a few days now. She’s careful enough that she doesn’t fall into a routine. It helps that she does shift-work at a bar. She pays for everything in cash. No bank records, no contracts, no trail. Finding her at all was damned difficult.
So far there’s no sign that Jacob is still in her life. But if I know Jacob Tyrell, it’s only a matter of time before he finds her. And when he finds her, I’ll be here waiting for him. My belly clenches briefly with guilt at the idea that I’ve been toying with: I could use her as bait. I shove that guilt aside. I don’t have to make that decision yet.
I keep pace with her as she turns down the street. I frown when I realize she has veered off the path to her apartment. Curiosity stirs in me when she stops in front of a local soup kitchen. She makes her way up the short set of steps and pushes her way inside, pausing for a moment, trying to handle the door and her large bags and her purse all at the same time. I want to help her with the door. I could. I’ll just pretend to be homeless or just a passerby, never to be seen again.
What the…? Where did those thoughts come from? I sink further back into the shadows and berate myself when I realize I almost stepped out and revealed myself.
She reappears several minutes later without her bags. With her is an older man, a chaplain, and they talk for a few moments before they shake hands and she walks back off into the night. He disappears inside and I deduce that he must work here. It must have been leftovers from Dixie’s bar in those bags that she just dropped off at this soup kitchen.
Interesting.
Her police file said that she had been enrolled in a nursing degree before she was forced to quit due to the witness protection program. What it didn’t say is how wonderfully suited to nursing she would have been. Here she is, on the run and still finding time to care for others.
How dare Jacob Tyrell take this woman away from her life? She would have done so much good as a nurse. I can see it now, it was her calling. Her natural empathy with other human beings, her desire to help. All these things in her even Jacob Tyrell couldn’t beat out of her. Something inside me stirs as I follow her for the final blocks to her home.
* * *
I shouldn’t keep following her. She doesn’t have any contact with Jacob and there are other leads that I could follow up instead. But for some reason, some stupid reason, I can’t help myself. I chalk it down to how our lives intersected all those years ago. Yeah, that must be it. It’s the connection of when our lives mangled together in a sick twist of fate all those years ago. Not that she knows the extent to which she has affected me. I wonder if she would even recognize me if she saw me.
When I walk into the club called Bound after her I can’t believe the sordid hell I’ve entered. What the hell is she doing here? Is this even the same girl? Did I follow the wrong girl from her home?
I creep along the exposed brick walls of the club until I find a spot to stand. I watch her from across the club. She’s wearing a short black dress showing off more of her body than I’ve ever seen and not leaving much up to the imagination. All that kickboxing she does has transformed her body. Her dress clings to her firm pert breasts, her tiny waist and over her round ass. Her lovely legs are on display and her shapely thighs and calves are fixed taut from the heels she wears. Holy hell. Something flutters in my belly.
I’m not the only one who has noticed her. I watch these men eye each other up as they vie for her attention and I find myself gritting my teeth. One of them, a smarmy blonde with artificially whitened teeth that glow in the black light, manages to convince her to let him buy her a drink. He leans over the bar and she stands at his side, looking, in my opinion, anxious. Her fingernails tap on the bar and her right knee shakes. Maybe I should go in there and tell that guy to fuck off?
She looks over to me in that moment and our eyes lock. A stab of something hot goes through me. God dammit. Does she recognize me? We stare for a few moments longer, or it could have been minutes, I don’t friggin’ know. I should look away but I just can’t. I don’t see recognition in her eyes but something in her recognizes our connection. It’s like she knows, deep down somewhere, that we mean something to each other.
Blondie pushes the drink in her hand and she turns back to him. Even as they talk, even as he leans closer to her and brushes her hair around her ear and places his fingers on her arm, she keeps looking over at me. I wage a war internally with the part of me that’s screaming to go over there and scoop her away from him. He only wants one thing from you, I want to scream. Don’t let him use you.
No. I’m not getting involved. I can’t. Too dangerous.
Soon they leave together. She gives me one last glance where her eyes are light with life, then a deadened look comes over her as she focuses back on the man leading her away and her face turns to stone. Oh shit. I’ve seen this look before. I’ve seen it in addicts. Sex is her fix.
Jacob Tyrell drove her to this. I swear my heart cracks a little. I thought she was handling her past so well, but…
Something in me feels like it dies.
I shouldn’t have been there then. And I should be here now, a few weeks later. Tonight, she’s in another dress and yet another guy with too much gel in his hair buys her a drink. I shouldn’t be standing in the same spot as last time, but I do. Idiot. It’s like I want her to notice me, isn’t it?
Her eyes flick over to where I’m standing. Our gazes fuse and that goddamn strange tension in my belly is there again. What am I doing? Letting her notice me is dangerous. The guy at her side grabs her arm, breaking us both from our reverie. My body tenses and I think I even hiss. He’s grabbing her too hard and without any respect. She’s delicate, you fucker, I want to yell at him.
He says something to her I can’t hear from where I’m standing but he looks upset. She tries to pull away but he wrenches her back into him. A spear of possessiveness slams through me and I’ve pushed off the wall before I can rationalize what the hell I’m doing. I stride around the bar towards them. I’ll fucking teach him some respect.
As I approach him from behind I can hear her saying, “I just remembered I have to meet someone. Maybe next time.”
But he doesn’t let her go. He grabs her and gropes her like the dirty leech that he is and I swear to God I’m going to break every single one of those fucking fingers off.
“Let go of me, you pig.” A trickle of pride interrupts my anger as I notice her ready to knee him the balls. For a split second I consider letting her.
But the rage wins and I grab his shirt and yank him off her, something I shouldn’t be doing. Jesus, it seems like I can’t help doing a lot of things I shouldn’t be doing in regards to her. Hell, what’s one more?
“She said she had to meet someone. Now back the fuck off.” I stare him down, standing between them. He cringes as he glares up at me towering over him.
“Shit. Okay, man. I’m going.”
“The fuck you are.” I yank him forward as I side step. “You apologize first. And make it a good one.”
He starts to ramble. But it fades in my ears as my senses center around her. She’s staring back at me, her eyes wide with shock. Once again I catch a glimpse of the innocence that used to shine from her eyes. My stomach tightens with all these weird feelings…
I realize the idiot has finished his apology. I push him away and I think I tell him to get lost.
She seems to snap out of it and the bare innocence is clothed again behind a sexy put-on face and the seductive way she chooses to stand before me. “So I guess I owe you a thanks then, huh?”
She gives me the fake name that she’s using at the moment… Shelley. I wonder what she would do if I told her I knew her real name. She holds out her hand and gives me the hungriest smile I have ever seen from her.
Internally, I recoil. She wants to use me like she has used all the others. I’m just another guy to her. No… no fucking way.
I let out a laugh. “Sorry, honey. I’m t
elling you now, I’d be bad for you. You don’t want to mess around with me. I just thought I’d do my moral duty and help out.”
She bristles. “I don’t need saving.”
“I was talking about him. He was about to get his balls kicked up into his head.” I sigh and lean in towards her. The bartender is getting just a little too interested in our conversation and what I’m about to say no one else needs to hear. “Why do you do this to yourself? Are you happy with what you’ve become?”
Her eyes become stricken. “W-what? What the hell are you talking about?”
My chest cavity fills with a strange sadness as I gaze over the package she is presenting to the world. I’m not going to deny that she is sexy as sin in the little clothing she is wearing, but it’s the kind of sex that’s stained with dirt. I want to tell her that she looks beautiful even in a simple white top and shorts and no makeup as she sleeps in her bed, or when she curls herself into that ratty old armchair of hers with a book. I want to say that she’s a thousand times sexier in fitted jeans and a silk top… but I don’t. That would be stupid.
Before I can stop myself I say, “You’re so much more than this. You just need someone to remind you.”
Shit. I’m an idiot. I’m going to complicate everything. I need to get away from her. Being around her makes me do stupid things. Such stupid things. I can’t get involved.
So I do just that. I turn and walk away through the crowd and out of the club, grabbing my leather jacket as I go. I pause just outside the door for a second. I want to go back. Why the hell do I want to go back? But I push myself to keep going.
I flinch when I hear her voice calling after me to stop as I stride across the parking lot. She’s followed me and my skin tingles, feeling her eyes on me. But I don’t stop. I shouldn’t.
Until something sharp and hard clocks me on the head.
“What the hell?” I spin.
She stops a few paces from me, vibrating like a furious little pixie, now shoeless and holding one shoe in her hand. I realize she threw one of her heels at me. If I wasn’t so annoyed and angry at myself for approaching her in the first place I would have laughed.
“Where do you get off talking to me like that?” she yells.
“Shit,” I say mostly to myself. “I knew I shouldn’t have come near you.”
“But you did. And you saved me from that creep and you made him apologize to me, which was probably the sweetest thing anyone has done for me in a long time, but then you said the most awful things… and… and now you’re just walking off. What the fuck?”
“I’ve seen you in there more than once. You come in alone, each time with a different dress on, but each dress has the same M.O. Up to your ass and showing so much cleavage that you could catch flies with it. And boy do you catch some flies.”
Her cheeks flush and I’m instantly sorry I’ve been so harsh with her. But… maybe harsh is what she needs? She fiddles with her dress, looking terribly uncomfortable. Maybe this is what she needs.
“So I dress like this,” she says. “So what? I don’t ever get any complaints.”
“Of course they don’t complain. They’re getting exactly what they want from you.”
“I’m an adult. I can… do what I want.”
I can see this conversation is getting to her, so I soften my voice. “Is this really what you want for yourself? Really?”
She drops her other heel and steps towards me. What the hell is she doing? She moves until she is close enough to touch me. I should step away but… a large part of me wants so badly to close the final distance between us. I do neither, frozen in place between what I want to do and what I should do.
“You said I just needed to be reminded. You could remind me.” She lifts her hands up towards my chest. Shit. That’s enough to snap me out of it. My hands snatch out to grab her wrists and I pin them to her side. God dammit, she feels breakable in my hands. I’m mesmerized by the way her eyes reach out to me. Like I’m the only one who can save her. Protect her.
“You’re right,” she continues, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t like who I am. But I don’t know how to be anything else anymore. You can’t just leave me like this. Please… don’t leave me like this.”
I can hear the desperation in her voice. I can hear the plea for me to help her stop doing what she’s doing. I’m glad when I realize that she doesn’t want to keep going the way she’s going. She just doesn’t know any other way of dealing with what happened to her with Jacob. An odd feeling comes over me. For the first time in my life, I’m not the most broken person here.
“I wouldn’t be good for you,” I say. Am I trying to convince her or me that this isn’t a good idea?
“You said that already.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
Could I get involved? Could I? She’s already shown that she doesn’t recognize me; that’s one complication out of the way. But… what about the others?
“I have rules,” I say.
“I’m very good at following rules,” she is quick to retort. I’m not sure I believe her.
“Do you really want to get involved with me, kitten?” I refuse to call her Shelley. It doesn’t sit with me at all. And I can’t call her by her real name. I shouldn’t but I shuffle closer and brush my lips across her cheek. Shit. I really shouldn’t have done that. Now I want to touch more of her. “Should I take your silence as a no?”
She doesn’t say anything. I wonder desperately what she’s thinking. I almost hope she tells me to fuck off so I can disengage from her. From this added complication. “So,” I ask, “what’ll it be?”
“Yes. I’m saying yes.”
My heart skips a beat. I ignore the voice in my head that says that this is not a good idea. She wants help, she asked me for it. I can’t turn her down. I won’t use her. I’m going to give her what she needs. Just for a little while, I swear. Then I’ll disappear from her life. “We start now. You can tell all your little boyfriends that they can fuck off. No more sex with strangers. No other men. Or you’ll never see or hear from me again. Is that clear?”
Again I get silence from her.
I pull back. “I said. Is. That. Clear?”
She nods. Her head is tilted back and her eyes are hooded with so much lust that for a moment I imagine her under me, looking just like that.
Shit. I need space from her. I’m not going there. I can’t.
I step back and let the cool night air rush around me and my head clears. I place my fingertips on her upper back. “I’m taking you home.”
I lead her to my bike, a Ducati Diavel, my black carbon beauty. I take her back to her place, letting her give me directions to her home. I’ve already been inside her apartment, smelled her sweet scent on the bed sheets, and brushed my fingers across the scant clothes hanging like bones in her closet. I wonder if she’d be so trusting with me if she knew how much I already know about her.
A few times on the ride I catch myself leaning down to smell her hair; it smells citrusy and it mixes with the vanilla scent of her skin, making me think of key lime pie. Yeah, that’s what she smells like. Once, I almost turn to take a shortcut to her place before I remember that I’m not supposed to know where it is yet. I can’t seem to think straight with her bundled in my arms in front of me. She fits so well there… I wonder how else she would fit. Dammit. Stop it, Cade.
At her place, I follow her up the stairs to her apartment. I made the mistake of glancing up to see her ass peeking out from her dress. Shit. She’s not wearing underwear. After a moment of being mesmerized by the swing of her hips, I inwardly scold myself and avert my eyes. But that doesn’t stop my dick from reacting. Something that hasn’t happened in a long time. So screw me. I’m only human. And she’s a beautiful woman. A beautiful woman who has survived hell and who I shouldn’t get too close to.
I consider for a second following her inside and… She stops by her door and like a magnet I p
ress right up against her. No, I can’t. Then I’d be no better than any of those other knuckleheads who just want to fuck her. She begins to melt right up against me and I can feel my erection growing even more. Bad idea.
“Don’t move,” I say, and I wonder if she can hear my voice is thick with lust. If she moves I’ll lose my cool and take her right in this goddamn corridor. No, you bad man. Step away from her.
But I don’t. Not yet. Obviously I’m a sucker for punishment. As I pull my jacket off her shoulders my fingers trace her skin. Shit. Has it been so long that I’ve I forgotten how soft a woman can feel? Or is it just her? Is she actually the devil cloaked in soft skin and fresh smelling hair that will be my undoing?
I need to touch her again. I can’t help it. I brush the hair from the back of her neck and hold her by her throat. I kiss her neck like I want to kiss her mouth; soft at first, then I taste her skin with my tongue. Dear God. She tastes like salted caramel. She moans and the sound reaches into my depths.
I have to go. Now.
“Be good, kitten. I’ll be in touch.”
With every ounce of strength I have, I force myself to walk back down those stairs and to my bike and ride away. Even as she runs after me, begging me with her eyes to stay.
I spend the next day pacing back and forth across the temporary apartment I keep in this city. I chose this apartment because it’s close to where she lives. To make it easier for me to keep tabs on her. But today I refuse to allow myself to follow her like I’ve been doing. I need a step back. To reassess. To make sure I know what the fuck I’m doing.
