Walk For Me: Club Avalon Book 4

by Kay Elle Parker

  “All she has to be is herself.”

  “Well, we know that. She’s taken enough knocks to her confidence that believing being who she is isn’t enough for anyone to be able to love her.”

  Too many voices while she was napping. Familiar, beloved, but so annoying as they disturbed her from a perfectly peaceful stretch of oblivion. She moaned quietly under her breath, cracking open her eyelids just enough to see the blurry figures of Connie and Atticus standing outside the open door of her room.

  “That’s about to change. Braun gave me his blessing to pursue this, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Alicia’s mine, Con. Letting her slip through my fingers once was hard enough before I understood the full value of her—it won’t happen a second time.”

  “Braun gave you his blessing and a few bruises to go along with it?” Connie asked incredulously.

  That perked her ears up. Alicia’s eyes popped open, squinting as she tried to see Atticus’s face clearly. Not because she cared or anything, she just couldn’t imagine anyone being able to hit the massive man. But all she could see was his profile, obscured by his beard.

  The beard that tickled when he kissed her…

  That wasn’t happening again, she told herself. No more locking lips, no matter how good they made her feel. No more calling him Daddy and letting him take care of her like she was the only thing vital in his world. No more losing her heart to him anymore than she already had.

  “Ran into some trouble from the McGees’ gang on the way home.” Atticus’s voice dropped so low she could barely hear it, but what she did hear chilled her down to the bones. “Staged an elaborate crash, threatened me with a gun, and demanded I hand over Alicia by Monday night.” He snorted loudly. “Like that would fucking work. Amateurs.”

  “Are they alive?”

  “There was just the one. He’s locked up downstairs with Paul on guard duty. I’ve got four of my guys handling night security here, and I’ll call everyone in for a conference in the morning to organize a takedown. The whole damn lot will be taken care of in short order.”

  “If there’s a threat—” Connie whispered.

  “There is, one that will be neutralized before it gains any traction. I’m not worried about it, Con, so don’t let it worry you. Just be vigilant until it’s removed.”

  Funny, wasn’t it, how she hadn’t given her family’s enterprise a thought since she left that damned house and the bodies behind. Killing her parents had severed her ties to them, even though their tainted blood ran in her veins, and in her mind, had pushed her away from the illegalities they’d been involved in.

  Being with Connie had made her feel safe and loved, insulating her from the world beyond those four walls. Going to the Handicapable facility had given her a whole new set of issues to cope with.

  Not once had she envisioned that motorcycle-riding, drug-pedaling, sex-dealing gang focusing on her. Yet, in all honesty, she should have been smart enough to see that she would become their prime target for vengeance.

  Alicia, after all, had been the one to cut off the dual heads of the snake.

  “They’re coming for me?” she asked, ashamed to hear her own voice shake. She clung to Mr. Bear, only to discover he wasn’t an adequate deterrent against the fear.

  “Shit. You go, Con, I’ve got this.”

  “Okay.” Connie nodded, then waved at Alicia. “I’ll see you soon, sweetie.”

  Not if I’m dead, you won’t. They’ll bury me where I’ll never be seen by anyone ever again.

  Atticus walked into the room, his gait a little off. He’d changed his clothes since she last saw him, and maybe he’d had a shower. His hair and beard were shiny clean, and as he came closer, she could smell the freshness of his scent.

  For a horrible moment, Alicia wondered if Thane had lied to her. Maybe Atticus had gone to the sex club early, done the terrible deed, and come home to shower. Hide his tracks, conceal the deception, keep her in the dark where she belonged.

  The thought made her die inside.

  Then she saw the shadows along his jaw, not quite hidden completely by his beard, and the swollen ridge of knuckles on his right hand, the skin reddened and contused.

  She’d seen her share of war wounds and recognized the signs of a man who’d been fighting with his bare hands.

  The bed dipped to the side as Atticus sat on the mattress beside her with a pained grunt. His hands reached for her head, his fingers pushing along her scalp in a move that made her slick and needy.

  There was no hello, no crooned princess, no hesitation.

  His mouth slammed against hers in a feral kiss that stole her breath before she could catch it. Warmth against her lips, warmth between her legs, and everywhere in between. Her body stirred, more than interested in the silent promises his lips whispered as they shifted over hers.

  Atticus kissed her like he hadn’t seen her in forever. After being together constantly for a week, the last few hours apart felt like that. She’d missed him keenly, even as she mourned the loss of what they’d had.

  Damn it, she said she wasn’t doing this again!

  “Atticus,” she moaned, only for him to take advantage of the moment and plunder.

  Her skin tingled beneath his touch as one big hand slid down to support the back of her head, while the other stroked along her arm, linking fingers with hers. Tongues danced, breath came in short, erotic bursts, and that needy sensation between her legs became a craving.

  Atticus lifted their joined hands, pressed them into the pillow beside her head. The green of his eyes when he brought the kiss to a close were the darkest she’d ever seen them, reflecting his hunger. “Mine, Alicia. You are mine.”

  “Uh…”

  “You said you wanted me, Alicia, wanted this. Did I ruin that?”

  Oh God, this was so unfair. He couldn’t just kiss her, scramble her brain into mush and obliterate her resolve, then expect her to answer an incredibly complicated question. Not when there was fear for her life on top of it. “You deserve better than—”

  “Wrong answer.”

  “I’m not what you—”

  “Don’t tell me what I need when she’s right in front of me. Did I ruin what we had?”

  Yes was on the tip of her tongue. Right there on the tip, growing sourer by the second. Saying it wouldn’t feel good. The more she thought about it, the more she realized it tasted sour because it was a lie.

  Atticus hadn’t ruined anything by telling her the truth about his plans that night—he’d been honest, and she’d taken that honesty as a sign that he wasn’t in the same lovestruck place she was. It wasn’t his fault that she was insecure and scared.

  But if Alicia said yes, she knew the ruination of them would fall on her shoulders.

  “No,” she whispered, breathing in the relief she felt pulsing from him.

  “Thank God for small mercies.” He paused, then said quietly, “I told Jasper I wasn’t going to do the scene tonight. Not any night that I’m involved with you, Alicia. My little girl comes above all else, and I never want to put her in a position where she feels like she’s less than the bright star she is ever again.” Atticus’s regret shone in his eyes. “She should understand that being mine comes with a lot of perks. She’ll be protected at all costs, loved beyond compare, and treated like the beautiful princess she is.”

  “What about the bad guys?”

  He cocked his brow, gently flexing his fingers in hers. “Leave the bad guys to me, okay? That’s my job, I do it well, and no one will get within fifty feet of you. I have one of the top security teams in the country working beneath our feet—keeping people safe is what we do.”

  Beneath their feet? What? Her gaze dropped to the bed as though she could burn a hole through it and the floor to see an alternate dimension. “There are people under the floorboards?”

  Atticus leaned back and laughed. “You really are precious. No, princess, the house is built on top of my business. Heisler Security is dug two
stories down, constructed into the hillside. You can’t see it from the front. The road curves around and goes down an incline, which takes you onto the ground floor, the parking bays. The middle floor, the one directly beneath us is where our conference room, offices, tech rooms, and holding cells are—we are completely self-sufficient. Our technology and security is top line and constantly being updated.”

  “Wow.” That was some kind of amazing. “So, you have to walk all the way around your house to go to work? That’s some commute,” she joked lamely, wincing at her own inanity.

  He gave her a wink. “There’s an elevator.”

  “Oh, of course there is.”

  “My point is, you’re safe here. Security central, and your own personal bodyguard. Let me do the worrying.” He bent and kissed her softly. “Now, are you hungry? Connie said you had something to eat before you fell asleep, but that was a few hours ago.”

  “Can we have pizza?” she asked hopefully. The stress of impending doom wasn’t entirely alleviated—she wasn’t sure it could be. For a while, though, she could forget about dying painfully in the name of revenge.

  “Not tonight, princess. Tonight we’re having chicken and vegetables.” He pushed off the bed, stretching stiffly. Whatever had been done to him, he hadn’t come off as cleanly as he’d persuaded Connie. “Wear something comfortable, Lisha. We’re not going anywhere.”

  As he walked toward the door, Alicia pushed herself up in the bed. “Atticus? Daddy,” she corrected when he paused and turned back to look at her. “There’s something you haven’t mentioned.”

  “Oh?”

  Butterflies fluttered in her belly, clambering over each other. Mr. Bear sprawled on his back beside her, but she didn’t cuddle him. This had to come from her, as an adult, and he was innocent in the ways of adults. “What about sex? It’s a…” Hell, what was the word? Necessity? Craving? Indulgence?

  “It’s your decision,” he said gently. “I won’t take anything from you that you’re not willing to give, princess. When you’re ready, you let me know. I’ll wait until then.”

  That didn’t help her with the throb in her lower belly, the one she was sure couldn’t be dulled by pain meds. The one that made her hips want to dance and her legs to spread. “I don’t think I’m qualified to make that choice.”

  He grinned. “You are. You’ll know when it’s the right time. There’s no rush.” He gave her a stern look, melting her further. “If you’re not dressed by the time I finish putting dinner on, I’ll be back to do it for you.”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Good girl.” The look evolved into pride. “Thank you for trusting me, Alicia. It’s not the easiest thing to do, forgiving someone when they hurt you.”

  Speechless, she sat and stared at the doorway long after he’d passed through it. He was so casual about the whole sex thing. She’d sort of expected him to rip his clothes off and come striding back to the bed to…do the deed.

  Surely if he knew she’d forgiven him, he would take advantage of that. It opened the door for intimacy, right? She wouldn’t say no if he had an itch to scratch. Men had needs and he was a big, strong, virile man whose needs were probably bigger than his shoe size.

  Swallowing audibly, Alicia chewed on her fingernail. The rough edges were starting to grow out, although not for long if she kept biting them. Maybe he didn’t want to have sex when she was bleeding—it would be messy, she guessed—or he thought it would make her uncomfortable?

  It was going to hurt anyway, so what did discomfort matter? Sex didn’t last long in her experience—Abraham had never fucked her for more than a few minutes before he ground deep and grunted like a wild animal, a fact for which she was more than grateful.

  At least with Atticus, she could bring herself to touch him. Hold onto him while he rutted into her. If she was brave, she could lose herself in his eyes instead of the darkness.

  No big deal. She just had to remember sex was no big deal. Pain was fleeting in small doses. She’d survive it, like she had before. And it would be different with him. He would take care of her afterward, wouldn’t he, instead of leaving her soiled and subdued on wet sheets.

  Of course, he would.

  She rubbed her hand nervously over her mouth. Nibbled on her fingernail again. Hummed anxiously in her throat as memories assaulted her from all angles.

  “Thought I might find you sitting here, freaking out.” Atticus stepped into the room and gave her a reassuring smile. He was the epitome of cool, calm, and collected, while she felt as though her internal organs had been pumped full of caffeine. “Take a deep breath, Lisha. I’m not going to jump your bones.”

  She watched him move like a cat, all grace and elegance, toward the dresser. Even that slight distortion to his stride didn’t detract from his confidence. “Why not?”

  “I’ll get you a mirror so you can see for yourself,” he muttered as he pulled open the top drawer and pulled out one of her favorite things to wear—his blue shirt, the one that felt silky and decadent against her skin. “Hold your hands out in front of you, Alicia, and tell me what they’re doing.”

  What? Frowning at him, she obeyed. Palms down, she suspended them in mid-air. It took her several long seconds to realize they weren’t steady, not even close. The shakes started in her hands and wormed down her arms. Hastily, she dropped them back onto the covers. “What’s your point?”

  “People who suffer sexual trauma often have residual fears.” Shirt in hand, Atticus prowled around the bed. “Understandably. While sex is fun, the participants are at their most vulnerable. Naked,” he continued, tugging down the covers to reveal her clothed form, “and vulnerable. It takes time to get used to that when the privilege has been abused before. You were raped by your father, molested by Elliot.”

  Ice speared her heart. “I told you, it isn’t an issue.”

  “Mmmn-hmm.” Stripping off the stretchy pants, he arched his eyebrow at her. “I’ve seen glass walls with more color than what’s left in your face, baby. You’ve got the shakes, you’ve been biting your nails,” he added, working her T-shirt up and over her head with a brief order to lift her arms, “and I can see the ghosts drifting in your eyes. It’s okay to admit you’re scared—we can work with that.”

  “But men need—”

  “Alicia, stop. My needs are met. I can live without getting my dick wet for a few weeks. Hell, months if necessary. Being a Daddy, your Daddy, covers all the bases that make me happy.” Softer than a kiss, he trailed his fingertips along her collarbone, down her shoulder. “When the time to change that comes, we’ll talk about it some more.”

  The frenzied hamster doing Olympic sprints on the wheel of anxiety in her head calmed, slowed.

  Nodding her acceptance, Alicia let him slip the shirt over her head, shivering as the cool fabric drifted down her body like a waterfall. She wondered if she’d needed to push him to see if his resolve would bend, break, or stand strong.

  Daddy Atticus was unbreakable.

  “Dinner’s on, I’ve got ice cream for dessert, and Grey’s Anatomy lined up on the TV ready to play. Yeah, I thought that might perk you up,” Att said when she beamed at him. “Tonight is for us, Lisha. The start of a new journey.”

  Atticus kept her chair steady as she shuffled herself onto the seat, then pushed her toward the kitchen.

  “Thank you, Daddy.” She reached back, straining to touch his hand, only for him to grasp hers. “Thank you for understanding.”

  “Princess, I’d be an utter bastard if I did anything but.”

  *

  Dinner and a TV show was the perfect end to an almost uneventful evening.

  Propped up against the end of the chaise longue, Atticus stroked Alicia’s head as she stretched out along the furniture. The soft, dark fuzz covering her scalp was like velvet; he was biding his time before he coaxed answers about her hair from her.

  She laid on her side between his legs, her hand kneading his leg sleepily, her cheek resting on his th
igh.

  When he could bear to move her, he’d carry her to bed, but for the moment he was content to watch the medical drama unfold, with his girl dozing in the dim light from the screen.

  The first sign of her distress was a quiet moan, like an animal in pain.

  The dam was on the verge of breaking, Atticus thought. Her inner reservoir was finally full to the brim and incapable of storing anything else. In sleep, she couldn’t keep pushing back the waves lapping at the edge of her control. Her mind was its own in those hours, and it was finally speaking out.

  A stream of nonsensical babbling left her lips, her face contorting into a mask of…fuck, he didn’t even know how to describe it. Pain, anguish, terror, all morphing into one unidentifiable emotion. Fingers curled into claws, scratching at the air until he caught them.

  “Alicia—” He kept his voice low and easy, then cut off abruptly when she cried out, her upper body flopping around like a crazy catfish. Acting quickly, he looped an arm around her waist and hauled her up against him, pinning her arms. “I’ve got you, princess. You have to wake up now. Lisha, time to wake up.”

  Her legs kicked.

  Atticus’s heart froze mid-beat, then soared with elation.

  She could move her motherfucking legs!

  He quelled the urge to fist pump and shout in sheer fucking relief. For all his certainty that she would one day be able to throw that damn wheelchair in a dumpster, there were niggling little doubts warning him that the damage done by outside forces might be too much for her to recover from.

  This…Atticus wanted to grab and kiss a stranger on the street, get on his knees and holler thank yous to anyone who was listening. There were miracles, and then there were miracles.

  Alicia kicked again, jerky and uncoordinated. Her breathing turned to rapid pants, indecipherable mumbling continuing between frantic puffs of air.

  “All right, Lisha, now we’re sliding into dangerous territory here.” He shifted her so her head tipped back on his shoulder, then patted her face lightly. “Alicia! Alicia!”