Chapter Two
Sucking in a sharp breath, she lunged for the brass lamp on the nightstand, yanked the plug free from the wall, and held it like a sword at the ready. Her heart thundered in her ears.
The masked man took a step forward.
Still wielding her improvised weapon, she pressed her body against the wall, bracing herself for an attack.
But he did not come at her.
She dared not blink as she kept her gaze trained on the intruder who stood, unmoving, watching her.
Was he toying with her?
He was tall and sleek and dressed in black SWAT gear with a gadget laden belt around his trim waist. She could see the glint of his eyes, but not their color in the dark room. Her gaze narrowed on him.
Still, he did not move.
Her mind raced. Terror tightened her shoulders and made her breaths shallow...for she knew it was only a matter of time before the man made his depraved intentions known. She raised the lamp higher like a batter in the big leagues. Her palms were sweating, forcing her to adjust her grip. Holding her breath, she steeled her courage against the attack she knew had to be imminent.
At any moment, he would lunge for her.
His gaze remained trained on her, his body tense.
Her hands started to shake. She squeezed the lamp tighter to steady her grip.
Would he hit her? Beat her until she was a bloody lump incapable of fighting off his never-ending blows?
Was he armed?
Still, he stood, unmoving, staring.
She couldn’t take it!
“What do you want?” she cried, tears stinging her eyes.
His silence terrorized her. Her mind pummeled her heart with images of what he might do to her...rape, torture. What if he took her and locked her away in some rotting cabin in the woods where he could use her to satisfy his ugly needs whenever it suited him?
“I’ll scream,” she blurted.
Still, he said nothing.
“Aren’t you afraid I’m going to call the police or something?” she cried, her heart racing faster than ever.
He stepped toward her. “I’m not afraid, and you shouldn’t—”
A sob tore from her lips at the sudden sound of his voice. She dropped the lamp, scrambled off the bed onto the floor, and wedged herself in the corner between the bed and the wall.
He stopped in his tracks and reached out a calming hand as if she were a spooked animal he was trying to soothe. “I’m not going to hurt you.” His rich voice held a beseeching note. Raising one hand above his head as if in surrender, his other hand unsnapped something on his belt. “Watch.”
Her gaze followed his hand as he pulled out a gun.
“No,” she screamed and buried her face in her knees. She didn’t want to die.
“I’m not going to shoot you.” The words rushed from his lips. “Look, I’m putting the gun on this bureau, and now I’m stepping away. You don’t need to be afraid of me.”
Her breaths came in short, hot heaves. She peeked out from beneath her arms.
“Don’t be afraid,” he told her softly.
She hugged her arms around her legs, making herself as small as possible, and resisted the urge to blink, terrified to let him out of her sight for even a second. “You just broke into my boss’s house!”
Slowly, he walked toward her.
“Don’t come any closer!”
He stopped at the foot of the bed. “Your boss? So, Joe Wilder isn’t your boyfriend?”
She shook her head, her breaths ragged. She reached up and yanked down the duvet, piling the blanket on top of her as though it suddenly held the powers of Kevlar.
“You’re alone.” His deep voice penetrated her shield, his words sounding more like a statement than a question.
Swallowing hard, she wished with all her heart that Joe was there.
Sure, he was an arrogant asshole, but at least he didn’t carry guns and wear masks and break into people’s houses. “Joe should be right back!”
“You’re lying,” the man said without hesitation.
Peeking out, she saw him take another step toward her. A noise like a whimper got run-over by a squeal came unbidden from her lips. This wasn’t supposed to happen. All she needed was a place to crash for the night. Now, she might not make it out alive.
This was all Roman’s fault. If he had not driven her to drink four martinis, she would be asleep, safe and sound, in her own bed.
Damn Roman!
Slowly, the masked man circled around to her side of the bed and sat down on the far edge. “My information says he’s out of town. No one is supposed to be here.”
He was right! She wasn’t supposed to be there. And if Joe hadn’t been such an asshole, she never would have felt justified in using his place without asking.
Damn Joe!
The man shifted on the bed, angling his body toward her. “I’m never wrong, which forces me to ask—does your boss know you’re staying here?”
“Yes,” she said too quickly.
“You’re lying again. He doesn’t know you’re here, which means you actually broke into his house.”
She sat straighter and glared at him over the tufted duvet. “I have a key.”
“Did he give it to you?”
Her self-righteous scowl faltered. Her gaze dropped. “No.”
He lifted his shoulders. “So then, I think it’s fair to say that we both broke into your boss’s house.”
The duvet fell away from her face as she covered her mouth with her hand. He was right. She had stolen her boss’s key and his alarm code and entered his home, knowing he never would have given her permission. If he found out, would he fire her? The gravity of what she’d done suddenly hit her like a blow to the gut. The knots in her stomach tightened. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Let’s just calm down. There’s no need for that.” He stood up, circled around to the other side of the bed and grabbed the bottle of wine from the nightstand. “Shall we have a drink?”
“A drink? What is this, a social call now?” Her hands released their death grip on the blanket. “What’s going on?”
Without a word, he filled the glass on the table and offered it to her.
She’d never been so confused. “You can’t expect me to take that?”
He set the glass down. “Feel free to change your mind.” Then he crossed to one of two overstuffed chairs near the balcony and sat down. She held her breath as she strained in the dim light to watch his fingers begin to lift his mask. The moonlight revealed a smooth chiseled jaw and strong chin, then full lips. She waited for more, for his nose, to see the shape of his eyes, but his hand dropped away. A moment later, he brought the bottle to his uncovered lips and took a healthy swig. Then he looked at her, watching her like a casual observer. “Come out of hiding. You’re not Bambi and I’m not the Big Bad Wolf.”
“Don’t you mean Little Red Riding Hood?”
A slow sideways smile curved his lips. “Doesn’t she kill the wolf?”
She nodded.
“Then no, I don’t mean Little Red Riding Hood. Come on,” he urged her, patting the chair next to his. “Relax a little. You’re making me feel guilty.”
“You are guilty.”
“We’ve already established that we’re both guilty.” He stood up, walked over to the table, picked up the glass, and crossed to where she sat on the floor and slid down next to her.
Now, she was pinned against the wall. There was no place to go. He was so close. She breathed in his clean, musky scent.
“Listen, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not even going to rob your boss anymore.”
That caught her attention. She licked her lips, suddenly wanting that glass of wine more than anything...well, actually, she would have preferred something much harder. “Why not?”
“Your finger prints are all over this place now. If I carried out the job, you could be blamed.”
He was right.
More confused than ever, she took the glass from his hand and downed the lot. “That’s very considerate for a thief.”
“I’m always considerate.”
Wiping her hand across her chin to catch the dribble, she remembered the gun on the bureau.
Maybe she could make a play for the weapon.
Once more, she shifted her head to face him. In the dim light, she could barely see the glint of his eyes. Still, his gaze was unwavering.
“What were you going to steal?” she asked to keep him talking, giving her time to think.
“I wasn’t going to steal anything. It’s my client who’s interested in your boss’s property.”
“Your client? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m a thief-for-hire.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
He tipped the wine bottle upside down. “We need more wine,” he said casually as if they were old friends.
Now was her chance.
She pushed the blanket off her legs and jumped to her feet. “Getting booze is my job. Leave it to the bartender,” she said in a rush and scrambled over the bed toward the door, but then she turned, lunged for his gun on the bureau, and whirled around, aiming the barrel at the intruder.
He didn’t flinch.
“You’re a vision,” he said softly.
She glanced down at her thighs barely covered by Joe’s t-shirt. “Stay back,” she snapped as he stood and began walking toward her. “I mean it!”
He closed the distance between them in two strides and seized the gun right out of her hand. “Before you do something we’ll both regret,” he said, his voice gentle, sliding the gun in the holster at his waist.
She hid her face behind her hands, her whole body shaking. She had known she could never pull the trigger the moment the cool metal filled her hand. His arm came around her. She screamed as he lifted her. “Put me down,” she cried, lashing out, but he pinned her arms to her sides, his masked face a breath from hers. “Shhh,” he crooned softly while he crossed to the chair, cradling her like a child. “You really don’t have to be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you. You have my word.”
His gentle rocking, the martinis and wine, her fear and confusion, the warmth of his body, the touchless caress of his soothing voice, and her fatigue from the day all combined, in that moment, into one hazy, indistinguishable emotion, lulling her to rest her head on his chest—for a breath, a moment. Then she jerked upright, adrenaline winning out over the alcohol and met his gaze. His eyes glinted in the dark. “Can you just go away!”
He released a slow breath, the warmth of which penetrated his mask and touched her skin. “You’re still scared,” he said, slowly reaching out his hand. She flinched as he grazed the back of his gloved fingers down her cheek. “I wish you wouldn’t be.” His voice was tender. He stood up, holding her close. “I understand—the whole mask and gun thing. I get it, but don’t worry, I’m not offended.” His soft chuckle revealed the smile, his mask would not let her see.
He stood with her still in his arms, crossed to the bed, his gaze holding hers captive, and laid her down. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,” he said, leaning down to grab the duvet off the floor. He spread it over her bare legs, then pulled it up to her shoulders. “I’m going to tuck you in, but I’ll resist giving you a kiss goodnight.” He cupped her cheek. The leather from his glove felt cool. She stayed frozen in place, her gaze transfixed by his. After several moments, he stood. “And now I’m going to leave; that is unless you’ve had a change of heart and you want me to stay. We could be like Bonnie and Clyde. Two thieves in the night.”
She scowled. “I’m not a thief.”
“Of course you’re not.” His tone was soothing as if she needed reassurance of her innocence. Then he reminded her that she wasn’t as innocent as she believed in that moment. “Remember to clean up after yourself.”
In her mind’s eye, she saw Joe’s disheveled shoe rack and knew she would have to set things right.
He backed up toward the balcony, his gaze locked with hers. “You don’t want the boss to know you broke into his house.”
The next instant, he pulled aside the curtain. “Farewell,” he said as if he was the hero of a story rather than the villain. Then he stepped out onto the balcony, disappearing into the night.
Chapter Three
Before Damien threw his legs over the side of the balcony, he took one last glance at her. Again, he was struck to his core. His heart pounded.
It was her!
He had no doubt.
Her wide eyes and blonde curls, framing the heart-shaped face that had been etched into his memory.
Taking a deep breath, he lowered himself, hanging from the balcony, then swung, wrapping his legs around the closest post, which he slid down, his boots landing with a soft thud on the wet sand. Removing his mask, he climbed into the unremarkable blue van he’d chosen for the job, and drove away in a haze of adrenaline and memory.
He could almost smell the disinfectant filling the air of the dormitory in the children’s home where he had lived from his fifth birthday to his eleventh. It was there, in that lonely place, on a cold winter’s day when he’d first seen her.
He had awoken that morning with a slight fever and was confined to bed. At the time, he didn’t mind because the neighboring public-school was paying the home a visit. The last thing he wanted was to be a freak show for curious children who could not imagine what it meant to not have a happy family at home.
The sisters who ran the place had told him the visit was an opportunity to make new friends, but he didn’t want to meet them. The arrival of public-school kids had caused his thoughts to wander to dreams he thought he’d already dismissed as impossible.
But there he was—with a heart full of longing that forced tears to drip from his eyes. His one consolation was that no one else was in the dormitory to see him cry; that was, until she appeared...
“Why are you crying?”
Damien sat up in bed, brushed the back of his arm across his nose, and looked around. Standing in the doorway, staring at him expectantly, was a girl with blonde curly hair.
He scowled and swiped at his eyes, wiping away any evidence to support her claim. “I’m not crying.”
She scrunched her doll-like features at him and frowned, showing her disbelief.
“What are you doing here?” he snapped.
“I had to use the bathroom,” she responded nervously “I lost my way.”
“Are you new?”
She shook her head while biting her bottom lip. Her sea-blue eyes gazed back at him with curiosity. “I’m visiting with the school.”
Damien rolled his eyes at her. “Oh, I get it. Well, here you go,” he said, extending his arms to encompass the rows of small beds. “Take a good look, then get the hell out!”
“What are you talking about?”
“You came to gawk at the poor orphan kids.”
Her hands went straight to her waist, and she raised her chin defiantly. “That’s not true.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, his scowl deepening. “Then why’s your school here?”
The girl dropped her gaze, clearly trying to figure out what to say. “We made you pies,” she said at last.
He shook his head, amazed by the school’s insignificant gesture. “Why pies?”
She dropped her arms to her sides and shrugged. “I don’t know. It wasn’t my idea.” Her gaze traveled over him while she continued to chew her bottom lip.
He shifted under her scrutiny. “What are you looking at?”
“You,” she said. “I like your eyes. They’re golden.”
“Amber, actually. So what?”
She shrugged. “They’re pretty.”
This he hadn’t expected.
He wasn’t used to compliments. “Thank you,” he said after a while.
She drew closer then and sat down next to him on his bed.
He stiffened, uncomfo
rtable at her close proximity.
“Why were you crying anyway?” she asked. “Were you missing your parents?”
He shrugged. “I never knew them. You can’t miss what you never knew.”
“Then why?”
Damien shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s stupid.”
She put her hand on his. What felt like a bolt of lightning sliced right through his chest. He stared down at her tiny hand.
“Tell me,” she insisted.
Mesmerized by her touch, he spoke, only half aware of his own words. “I was thinking about this kid Matthew. He got adopted the other day.”
“That’s so great!”
Damien cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah. Matthew wasn’t one of those kids in the nursery who get adopted all the time. He’s ten, like me.”
“But why did such good news make you cry?”
He lifted his shoulders. “When his new parents came to pick him up, his new dad hugged him.”
“Is that all?” she asked softly. “You cried over a hug?”
His gaze moved from her hand to her eyes. He lost himself in the warm turquoise sea. “I’ve never had one before,” he said absently.
Her eyes widened. “You’ve never been hugged?”
Her surprised tone brought his thoughts back to reality and he realized how open he was being. “No, I—”But before he could take his confession back, her arms circled around his torso. His breath caught. He stiffened with surprise. Warmth poured from her arms into him. He melted. As if of their own accord, his arms wrapped around her and squeezed her back. His heart raced. He buried his face in the crook of her neck. Peace came to him, gentle, lulling, forgiving. But an instant later, an unwanted sound pushed through his thoughts, pulling him away from heaven, back to life’s harsh realities.
It was the clip clop of sensible shoes echoing in the hallway.
The noise grew louder, clattering toward the dormitory. A moment later, the door swung wide. Sister Maria entered, but froze, her eyes wide when saw the girl on Damien’s bed, their arms entwined. Quickly overcoming her shock, the nun hastened toward them.
Broken Rules: A Stand Alone Romance Page 2
