“Ohmygod,” she whispered, pressing her hand to her chest. “I can’t breathe.”
She trembled from head to toe. When he set her down, he gripped her arm to keep her from slipping. “Are you hurt?”
Gasping, she blurted out, “I’m going to pass out.”
He flung open the passenger door of his truck and helped her onto the seat. “Face outward, drop your head to your knees, and take slow, deep breaths.”
While she hunched over, he rubbed her back. Comforting her helped slow his own racing heart. She’s safe.
After a few moments, her tremors subsided and she lifted her head. “Thank you. I’m okay now and should get going.”
She’s still using that ludicrous accent.
Her feet hit the ground and she slipped on the shiny street. Again, he grabbed her arm before she hit the icy pavement. “Get going? In what? We don’t even know if your car is drivable.”
“Please help me push it out of the intersection.”
The street was quiet, but that van had come barreling out of nowhere. No way would he put either of them in jeopardy of getting T-boned. “I’ll call a tow truck.”
“How am I supposed to get home?”
“I’ll drive you.”
“What? I’m not accepting a ride from a stranger.”
He forced down a laugh and fought the urge to roll his eyes. How much longer could she keep up this ridiculous charade? With cold fingers, he pulled out his phone and found a twenty-four hour tow company with a twenty-minute ETA. He grabbed her purse from the passenger seat of her car, turned on her hazards, and returned to his vehicle.
“We’ll wait in my truck.” With a firm hand on her arm, he offered his assistance.
She wouldn’t budge. “No.”
Rubbing his gloveless hands together, he said, “Get in the truck.” If he was freezing, she must be a block of ice.
Her blue lips quivered. “I’ll wait here for the tow truck.”
“Get in the fucking truck, Alexandra. And lose the damn accent. You aren’t from Texas. I am.”
Her shoulders sagged as she climbed in. After situating himself in the driver’s seat, he started the engine. “How long have you known?” she asked.
“Twenty minutes.”
Her left eyebrow hitched, ever so slightly. “What gave it away?”
“Your laughter. Your perfume.” Your love scratches. That he’d keep to himself. Reaching behind her, he untied her mask, then set it on her lap. “Much better.” He needed to kiss her. And he wanted her to take off that blonde wig.
“How long have you known?” he asked, then flipped on the heater.
“Colton’s engagement party.”
“That explains a lot.”
“What we once shared is ancient history,” she murmured. “No more Incognito either. As soon as you complete the interview for DC’s Brightest Tech Star, we can go our separate ways. That part we’ve got down.”
Though she’d meant to zing him with her sharp words, he wasn’t fazed. She was trying to push him away. And he understood why, too. So, he stayed silent, letting her have the last word.
Crockett fixed his attention on the steady stream of falling snowflakes. And breathed. The image of the vehicle careening toward them sent aftershocks through him, but he shoved the thought away. I’ve got her and she’s okay.
He didn’t try to mask the silence with small talk. Based on her creased brow, he doubted their conversation would be friendly anyway. Just having her by his side felt so damn good.
Ten minutes later, the tow truck pulled up. He opened the door, turned back to her. “Stay here. I’ll handle this.”
After speaking with the driver, he snapped a few photos of her car and climbed back in. “He’ll tow your car to my mechanic. I’m guessing you’ll need body work.” He shot her a smile. “You don’t need any body work. You are perfect. I’m talking about your vehicle.”
His pulse quickened at her full-on grin. “Thank you for pulling me out of the car, Crockett.”
He’d always loved the way her lips puckered when she’d murmur his name. In the past, he’d have jumped at the opportunity to kiss her. But not tonight. Tonight, she’d drawn a firm line in the sand. So, he’d start with baby steps.
“I want you safe,” he said and her eyes softened. “The driver told me we could get seven-to-ten inches, so let’s get you home. I’ll email you the photos for your insurance company. If they won’t deliver your rental car, I’ll drive you to pick it up. Do not drive until the roads have been plowed.” He tapped his GPS system. “All righty, where do you live, Alex?”
Melancholy crept into her eyes. “You were the only one I ever let call me Alex.”
Beneath that tough, independent exterior was the shy, sweet Goth Girl he’d fallen deeply in love with.
After she gave him her address, Crockett weaved his way through unplowed icy streets toward her Arlington neighborhood. It was almost one in the morning when he turned onto her picturesque street. Lampposts mounted in front of every home bathed the snow-covered houses and tiny front yards in shimmery white light.
“That’s weird,” she murmured.
He shot her a glance. “What’s wrong?”
She yanked off her wig, unpinned her hair and ran her fingers through it. “Every light is on. My roommate’s home.” She directed him to the brick-front house that shone like a beacon on an otherwise dark street.
With no available parking spot, he double-parked out front. As she exited his truck, she slipped and, again, he caught her. “We need to get you snow boots or you’re going to break your neck.”
As they approached the house, the wailing vocals of Jimi Hendrix’s “Purple Haze” blasted into the silent night. They stepped into a smoky living room that reeked of marijuana.
Partygoers sprawled on the sofa, lay on the floor, and sat on the lower stairs. Empty beer bottles lined the coffee table along with two bottles of Jack Daniels and an empty bottle of tequila. Candles dripped hot wax onto the side tables and fireplace mantel.
Alexandra’s mouth fell open.
“Hey, roomie!” A pigtailed woman wearing footie pajamas jumped off the sofa and threw her arms around Alexandra, almost knocking her over. “Who’s this cutie?” The roommate eyed Crockett. “I’m Mandy, Alexandra’s roomie.” She snorted a giggle. “Duh, right?”
“I’m Crockett.”
“My boyfriend, Ben, thought we should crash here during the storm.” She pointed to a man sitting at the small dining room table with his back to them. She swayed, then giggled. “We’re partying. You wanna beer? How ‘bout some weed?”
“No, thanks,” Alexandra said.
“Hey, guys, listen up!” Mandy shouted over the slurred chatter and deafening music. “This is my home girl, Alexandra. And this is her man, Crockett. They’re gonna join our slumber party. Whoo hoo!”
A chorus of hellos echoed through the room.
Mandy’s boyfriend rose. As Ben lumbered over, the linebacker-sized man had a glassy look in his eyes. He was as tall as Crockett, if not taller. And the stench of dope clung to his stained wifebeater and ripped, baggy jeans. When he homed in on Alexandra, she threw Crockett a furtive glance.
“Hey, baby. You’re fucking gorgeous.” Ben gawked at Alexandra. “Mandy, have you been keeping me away from this hottie on purpose?”
And that’s when Crockett spied the lines of cocaine and crack pipe on the dining room table. Time to get Alexandra the hell out of there.
Eyeing the crowd, Crockett counted seven men, five women. He’d no idea what drugged-up condition they were in, but he felt confident he could handle the situation.
When Ben tried to kiss Alexandra, she shoved him away. “Change into something sexy and join us,” he said, ogling her chest.
Mandy glared at her boyfriend. “Ben, stop.”
“We aren’t staying,” said Crockett. “We just—and I mean just—got engaged. We’re celebrating at my place.”
Alexandra whipp
ed her head toward him at the same time Mandy squealed. “Do you have a ring?” She grabbed Alexandra’s hand, then frowned.
“She literally said yes outside in the snow,” Crockett continued. “Ring shopping happens when the roads get plowed.”
“Aw, how romantic,” cooed a chorus of women.
Crockett pulled out his phone. “How about a picture of the two roommates to mark the occasion?”
Ben squeezed in between them and Alexandra grimaced as he groped her shoulder. His fingers brushed the swell of her breast and she jerked out of his hold. After snapping a few photos that included the lines of coke on the table, Crockett clasped Alexandra’s hand. “We’ll be back.”
Making the assumption her bedroom was upstairs he headed in that direction. At the bottom of the staircase, he gestured for her to go first. He couldn’t keep her safe if he couldn’t see her. The three people lounging on the lowest steps made no attempt to move, so she picked her way through with him in tow.
Once inside her small bedroom, she tugged her hand from his. “What the hell was that?”
“That was me giving you a legitimate reason to leave without causing a scene,” he said. “Did you happen to see what Ben was doing before he got up to grope you?”
She crossed her arms. “No, what?”
“There were several lines of coke on the table. And a pipe for freebasing. You can’t stay here.”
“What? Why not? I’ll lock my bedroom door and go to sleep.”
“You might be snowed in for a day or two. If a neighbor smells the dope or can’t take any more of the blaring music, they’ll call the police.” He paused, hoping the weight of the situation would sink in. Mituses had thick skulls. “What would your producer say if you got hauled to jail for drugs?”
“I don’t do drugs!”
“Yeah, well, tell the police that and see how much sympathy you receive. You report the news, Alexandra. You of all people know innocent people can get lumped in with the guilty.”
On a loud huff, she vanished into her small walk-in closet, emerging a few moments later with two zipped duffel bags bulging at the seams and a hanging garment bag. Either she couldn’t decide or planned on never returning.
She shoved the duffels at him. “Happy?”
“No, I’m rarely happy.” He slung both bags over his shoulder. “You ready?”
“Where are you taking me?”
“My place.”
She snickered. “I don’t think so. I can stay with my mom.”
“I’m not driving to Old Town in this snowstorm.”
“I can move into Colton’s guesthouse.”
“Not tonight.” He stepped toward her door and glanced back. “Pretend like we’re in love.”
“I’m not that talented.”
Her smart mouth made him chuckle. “The longer you stall, the icier the roads get.”
Before heading downstairs, she grabbed her toiletries from the bathroom. As they picked their way around the bodies on the stairs, he eyed the dining room table. The lines were gone. Sizing up the group, he placed a protective hand around her shoulder. “We’re outta here.”
Ben rose from the arm of the sofa, his hazy stare locked on Alexandra. “What’s the rush? Party with me, baby. P-a-a-a-r-t-a-a-a-y.” He held out his hand.
Crockett eyed Ben. Six two or three, two fifty. Burly. Probably stoned, drunk and high on coke. I’ve got this.
“Not tonight,” Alexandra said. “I want some alone-time with…my fiancé.”
Ben cocked his hands on his hips and stepped too damned close to Alexandra. Jesus, he stinks. Crockett pulled her flush against him, preparing to shield her with his body.
“Stay.” Ben’s eyes grew beady. No smile, harsh tone. He’s turning aggressive.
No one seemed interested in Ben, save for one average-sized guy smoking a joint on the sofa. Crockett could manage two, though he’d no idea what drugs they’d taken or how combative this crowd could get. He couldn’t turn his back on Ben, so he stepped backwards hoping Alexandra would walk toward the door. She did, but Ben moved around them with more speed than Crockett expected.
Whack! Ben slapped his hand against the front door, causing everyone to jump.
“Step away,” Crockett said.
“Get the fuck out of here, but she stays. Me and her are gonna have some fun.”
Crockett squared his shoulders, prepared to either throw the duffel bags off or use one of them if Ben pulled a knife. “Get out of our way.”
“Or what? You gonna make me, pretty boy? Fuck you. This is my place. You do as I say.”
“Ben,” Mandy said. “They don’t want to stay, honey.”
“Shut up. If I say the bitch stays, she stays.” Ben’s fist flew toward Crockett’s face, but Crockett blocked it.
Both duffel bags hit the floor. Crockett grabbed Ben’s wrist and twisted until Ben buckled onto the hardwood. Crockett jammed his boot into Ben’s shoulder while applying pressure to Ben’s twisted wrist. Trapped beneath the weight of Crockett’s boot, Ben laid there, face down, his arm wrenched in the air.
“Motherfucker, that hurts,” Ben said. “You’re a fuckwad, you know that?”
Alexandra flung open the front door and hurried onto the stoop.
With his boot shoved into Ben’s back, Crockett growled, “I don’t give a fuck what you want.” He released his grip on Ben, shouldered the bags, then left, slamming the door shut behind him.
Grasping Alexandra’s arm, he guided her down the snow-covered path and opened the passenger door. Before climbing in, she stared into his eyes. He’d seen that fiery look before.
“Are you okay?” he asked, taking the garment and cosmetic bags from her.
“Yes. You?”
“I’m fine.” Fury coursed through him. He’d wanted to punch that asshole senseless. But he’d learned to manage his anger by controlling his actions. And he’d achieved his primary goal. Get Alexandra out of that hellhole.
Crockett set her things on the back seat and settled in behind the wheel. After a quick glance at his passenger, he started the engine, flipped on the windshield wipers, and drove. “That is one fucked-up guy. I take it you’d never met him.”
“No, I hadn’t. I’d only seen Mandy twice before tonight. She pretty much lives with him.”
As Crockett meandered out of the sleepy neighborhood, his sense of calm returned. He’d rarely had to use his martial arts, but it always served him well. And for that he was grateful.
Though Alexandra didn’t know it yet, Crockett would accompany her when she went back to get the rest of her things. Ben had been humiliated in front of his friends and Crockett had a feeling he’d want to retaliate by hurting Alexandra. He tightened his fists on the steering wheel. She could never return there alone. And no way in hell could she ever stay there again. His guts churned at the thought.
In the darkened truck, Crockett peered at his beautiful passenger. Though she appeared somewhat shaken, she’d fared well. Truth be told, he could stare at her for hours. He used to tell her she was the most beautiful girl on the planet. She was every bit a woman and more breathtaking now than she’d been back then.
The GW Parkway hadn’t been plowed, so Crockett proceeded with caution, as did the other vehicles on the dark road made brighter by the snow. “You doing okay?”
“I’ve been living alone and wishing my roommate would spend more time there. After seeing that crowd, I dodged a bullet.”
By the time he pulled into his penthouse parking spot, it was after two thirty in the morning. When he cut the engine, the last remaining traces of fury rolled off him. She was safe. Nothing had happened to her and nothing ever would. He’d make sure of that.
“Your black belt moves were pretty hot, Crockett. I’ve never seen anyone react that fast.” Alexandra shot him a sly smile as she exited the truck.
He lifted her bags from his back seat and strode toward the elevator. That was the first compliment she’d given him in eleven years. Gi
ven the sultry look in her eyes, it wouldn’t be the last.
13
The Sleepover
In the quiet of the night, Alexandra stared out Crockett’s floor-to-ceiling windows. Lamplights twinkled across the Potomac River while the nation’s capital slumbered beneath a blanket of cottony white. She wished the picturesque landscape could calm her rattled nerves. But the whirlwind of activity had frazzled her and she hugged herself.
After everything Crockett had done for her in the past two hours, she owed him a debt of gratitude. But she needed to keep things real. This isn’t the beginning of anything. Yes, he’s a good guy, but he’s not my good guy. She rubbed her chest, but the ache wouldn’t go away. In her heart of hearts, she wanted to throw her arms around him and tell him how much she’d missed him. Snap out of it. He ended things a long time ago.
He stood beside her. Their shoulders brushed. This time she trembled for a very different reason. His confidence and magnetism excited her. The man he’d become didn’t just own the condo; he owned the space, the air, and every damn move he made. And he owned her, too. How long could she conceal that?
“I envy your view,” she murmured.
“It is spectacular.” Crockett’s deep timbre sent sparks flying through her. She turned to find him studying her. A few seconds passed, the familiar zing of attraction skittering through her. He offered her a steaming mug. “Drink this. It’s a hot toddy.”
The kick from the whiskey burned a welcomed trail to her stomach and the hot liquid soothed her nerves. She had no contingency plan and was desperately trying to come up with something—anything. Tonight, she’d crash on his sofa, then seek refuge at Colton’s or her mom’s until she could find another place to live.
His delicious scent surrounded her and she breathed him into her soul. Why did he have to stand so closely? She should have moved, but she didn’t. Couldn’t. Her feet kept her anchored in place. He’d removed his suit jacket and tie, sipped what might be whiskey from a lowball glass.
THE WILDE TOUCH: Book Two of The Touch Series Page 12
