VIP Protector

by Patricia Rosemoor

  “Who's your decorator?” she asked, wondering if a woman was involved, and then further wondering how that other woman would like Lynn's bunking in with her boyfriend, even if only for tonight.

  “The furniture's mine. The plants are compliments of my mother.”

  Mother, huh? Somehow, she hadn't featured that.

  A few more large and hanging plants softened the nearly bare interior of what she quickly gathered was a single large room with an alcove off the kitchen, where she got a glimpse of his rumpled bed. When she'd mentioned adjacent rooms, he'd said that's what they'd have here. Sort of.

  She got it. No privacy. Great. She would sleep in her clothes.

  But would he?

  When he set her bag down between the couch and the single upholstered chair, she said, “Your leg, how is it?”

  “I'll live.”

  “But you've been limping. Maybe you should have it checked out.”

  “I'd prefer icing it. You could use some ice on those wrists, as well.”

  Lynn looked down at the bruises and scrapes where the ropes had bound her. “No, I'm fine.”

  “If you say so.” He started for the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink? I have beer and cola.”

  “You wouldn't have tea?” Which would soothe her raw throat.

  “I do if you'll drink herbal.”

  “Perfect.”

  But what kind of man served herbal tea? she wondered. And had house plants and flowers on his city back porch? Blade Stone certainly was unusual.

  Lynn watched him move around the tiny kitchen area, microwave mugs filled with water and fetch a tray of ice cubes from the freezer, which he emptied into a plastic bag. He was at ease, undoubtedly the same way he would be behind the bar when he was serving up drinks at the club.

  Blade Stone a bartender. She couldn't help but wonder why he would settle for a dead-end job when surely the military had trained him for something more challenging. Then, again, bartending in a fast-paced upscale club might pay better. And maybe she was too demanding, not only of herself, but of others, as well.

  Joining her, he set two mugs down on the coffee table.

  “No teabags?”

  “Special brew. Let it settle for a few minutes and it'll be fine.”

  “Special how?”

  He set the bag of ice on the coffee table and gingerly laid his leg on that. “Guaranteed to calm you down and let you get a good night's sleep.”

  Skeptical, she wondered if she would sleep at all, what with all the thoughts about who and why roiling through her mind. She'd put her fears on hold for a while, maybe because of Blade, but the reminder prompted a resurfacing of anxiety.

  “Don't worry, I won't let him get to you,” he said, his tone low and soothing.

  “How—”

  “Your eyes. If you don't want people to know what you're thinking, you need to learn to hide it better.”

  “I thought I was pretty good at hiding things.”

  “As in?”

  She shook her head. She didn't want to talk about it. He was nearly a stranger, for heaven's sake, and she had no desire to relate her life's story to him or anyone else, for that matter.

  She asked, “How's the leg?”

  He made a face and shrugged. “It's getting numb.”

  “I think someone should take a look at it.”

  “You?”

  She blinked and said, “I guess.”

  “So, you're not sure if you want to look at my leg.”

  He was playing word games with her again. “I meant I'm no expert. But I can't see anything unless you roll up your jeans leg.”

  Lowering his foot, he tried to do so. “Won't go high enough.”

  “Then you'll have to take them off.”

  “If you insist.”

  He rose and unbuckled his belt.

  “Whoa. That's not what I meant.”

  He gave her a knowing grin. “Don't worry, I can take care of it.”

  He limped across the room and opened the door to the bathroom. His rummaging around made some noise. And then she heard a low curse that made her wince.

  Lynn couldn't stop herself from investigating. Just one peek, she thought, getting up from the couch and crossing to the door, still open a crack. What she saw made her gasp and swing the door open wide.

  “You've been bleeding!”

  Though the blood had dried, it covered most of his calf and he was standing on his good leg trying to tend to it. Never mind that he wasn't wearing any pants. Never mind that a leather sheath holding a knife was strapped to his other calf.

  Never having thought herself capable of violence, she was truly appalled when she said, “I can't believe I actually wounded you.”

  ***

  Blade stared at the lovely woman who'd gone pale at the sight of his dried blood and looked ready to faint. Wonderful.

  “It's just a scratch. Honest.” Though it hurt like hell.

  “Sit and I'll take care of it.”

  “I told you that sculpture was dangerous.”

  She glanced at the antiseptic on the sink. “Where's your first aid kit?”

  He tilted his head. “That would be it.”

  Lynn pushed at his chest until he sat on the throne. Then she filled the sink with hot water, found his meager stack of linens and threw a washcloth into the bowl. It seemed she wasn't going to pass out on him, after all.

  He watched in fascination as she knelt before him and gently cleaned his wound. Her fingers were light on his flesh, but she made it quiver.

  For a moment, he thought about other, more intimate things she could do for him

  while down there on her knees. Thankfully, his shirt tails were long enough to hide his briefs and the erection that flared to life within them.

  “It's more than a scratch,” Lynn said, her gentle touch continuing to cause him discomfort. “But it did stop bleeding on its own, so I guess you don't need stitches. You do have some kind of bandage strips, right?”

  Blade pointed up to the medicine cabinet and was mesmerized as she stood and simultaneously reached over him toward the cabinet, her breasts nearly brushing his face in the process. He swallowed hard and fought back the urge to do something about the physical stirrings she inspired.

  “All right,” she murmured, bringing down the box with something akin to an expression of victory. Back down to her knees before him, she opened the packaging of a large bandage strip. “Why didn't you say anything about being cut?”

  “I had other things on my mind.”

  As he did now. Inappropriate things. Things he wanted her to do with those hands that were driving him crazy. Using the same technique he had earlier against the pain, he steeled himself against her.

  “Getting me away from my building that fast wasn't that urgent,” she said, looking up at him.

  Lynn's eyes were clear, innocent of the heat she'd inspired in him.

  “On the other hand,” he said, “you gave us the definite impression that you were ready to fly away immediately.”

  “But I'm not heartless, and I was responsible for hurting you.” Frowning, she concentrated on attaching the bandage strip. “And you passed up a second opportunity at the club.”

  “By then I had the pain under control.”

  “How?”

  “A technique I was taught in the military.” Admitting it was no breach of confidentiality. “Just in case.”

  “Just in case what?”

  “In case we were ever caught and tortured.”

  As if she found that unbelievable, she shook her head and muttered, “Men. No

  matter what happens, you have to be in control.”

  “And you don't?”

  “Not in the same way, no.” She applied a second bandage strip. “But I don't want someone controlling me, either.”

  “That was obvious.” He clarified, saying, “The suitcase.”

  “Done.” She closed the box and got to her feet. “Now you sho
uld take advantage of that ice before it's nothing but a puddle. And I'm going to go get that tea.”

  Lynn left him alone in the bathroom. Watching her go, his eyes settling on her lush derriere, Blade acknowledged the desire that taunted him despite his resolve. She was some woman.

  Too bad her last name was Cross.

  Climbing back into his jeans, he adjusted himself and zipped them up before following her into the main room. She was already curled into one corner of the couch and sipping her tea.

  “Mmm. Pleasant,” she said.

  As if the herbs were already working its magic on her, she seemed more relaxed. Or maybe it was simply because she felt safer than she had earlier.

  Deciding to play it safe himself, he took the chair opposite her. No need to tempt fate.

  He settled his leg back up on the ice packet and took a slug of the special brew he'd concocted long ago when he himself had been desperate to sleep. He knew the healing ability of the herbs would let her drift away from the horror of what had happened to her. Still, before that happened, he needed some details.

  Watching her carefully, he said, “Tell me about the abduction.”

  Her fingers immediately tensed on her mug. “There's not much I can tell you. I was working late. He got me as I was coming out of the building. I never saw him. He used drugs. A blindfold. Intimidation.”

  “Do you think it was someone you know?”

  “It must be. A client's ex-spouse most likely. I remember him telling me to think about what I'd done.”

  “You didn't recognize the voice?”

  She shook her head. “He never spoke in a normal tone. I never knew how chilling a whisper could be.”

  Lynn shivered and her eyes went all dark and stormy again. And Blade wanted in the worst way to take back the question that so disturbed her, to reach out and engulf her in his arms, to reassure her that he would protect her with his own life if necessary.

  Sacrificing his life for hers, after all, would only be fair.

  ***

  Despite Blade's bringing up the abduction, Lynn had to admit the herbal tea did its job. She was soon yawning and fighting to keep her eyes open.

  “Bedtime,” she murmured, following that with a big yawn. “Do you have an extra pillow?”

  “Why don't you just take the bed.”

  The bed with rumpled sheets that probably smelled all male and inviting like him, she thought.

  “Uh-uh. I have dibs on the couch.”

  “If you're sure.”

  She scooted down and got comfortable. Maybe she didn't need a pillow. She was already drifting...

  Aware of a strong hand cupping her head and lifting, she felt her head settle on something soft and cool and comforting. A pillow.

  “Thanks,” she murmured, then felt the light weight of a sheet set down over her body as her mind drifted toward darkness...

  “You're the one who does all the talking.”

  Startled, she sat straight up in a darkened room, limbs tangled. Heart pounding, she fought herself free. The voice—whose?

  Though she strained to hear, she caught no further sound. Still, danger lurked somewhere nearby.

  She had to get out of there.

  “Blade!” she whispered sharply once and when he didn't answer, she panicked and got to her feet, sensing more than seeing her way to the front door, which she fought

  open.

  Once through the doorway, she was caught. Arms like ropes surrounded her, and she couldn't even fight back.

  She screamed once before a cruel hand with a cloth forced itself over her mouth and jerked back her head so that it clunked against something hard. Something that cracked. And then a foul scent filled her senses and her head began to whirl even as she struggled to free herself once more...

  “Lynn, wake up.”

  Blade's voice. And his hand was shaking her shoulder, rocking her up out of the depths of a nightmare.

  With a gasp, she opened her eyes and saw him hunkered down next to the couch. Not thinking, she cried out and threw her arms around his neck and hung on for dear life.

  “It's all right,” he murmured soothingly. “Everything is going to be all right.”

  “I thought... I thought he had me again.”

  “A bad dream. You're here with me. You're safe.”

  “No, I'm not. I won't be safe until he's where he belongs, behind bars.”

  She was trembling with fear and anger and Blade's attempt to comfort her with soothing strokes along her spine was doing something else entirely. Her body was awakening to his touch, telling her that she was alive.

  Alive... but for how long?

  Until we meet again...

  Who knew how long it would be before that happened? What if her abductor had the means to find her no matter where she hid?

  Then what?

  Desperate for reassurance, she wrapped her arms tighter around Blade and realized that the only thing he seemed to wearing was the leather pouch hanging from his neck. His flesh had a life of its own beneath her hands. Her palms tingled and her fingers wouldn't be still. They kneaded his back and climbed higher until they tangled in his long hair, now freed from the leather that had wrapped it earlier.

  Stiffening, he protested, “Uh, Lynn, maybe—”

  “Sh-h-h,” she whispered, her lips now nuzzling his ear. “Please. You make me feel alive. Don't stop letting me feel like I'm alive.”

  With a groan, he caved and swept his fingers through her hair. She turned her face to his and their mouths brushed and her lips began to tingle.

  “More,” she murmured, angling her head so that she could kiss him more fully.

  His mouth covered hers and she opened to him and when their tongues met, he moaned and captured her in a deep, wet, electrifying kiss. Her body was urgently assuring her that she was very much alive. Her toes were curling and nipples hardening and the sweet spot between her thighs was throbbing for his touch.

  But even as he kissed her, he made no move to go further, so she slipped a hand down his back and around his waist and smiled into his mouth when his flesh quivered under her touch. And then she hit flesh that wasn't smooth, an area that felt taut. Damaged.

  Scar tissue?

  Not wanting to think about how he might have been wounded, she plunged her hand down his front to find him hot and hard and ready for exactly what she needed at this moment.

  “Lynn…”

  “Undress me,” she whispered. “I want to feel your hands on me, touching me the way I'm touching you.” She ringed him and slipped her circled fingers up to his tip. “I want to feel your mouth on me. I want you inside me, giving me your life force. I want to celebrate being alive.”

  For a moment, Lynn thought she had him convinced. He certainly felt alive against her hand. But then he pulled back and held her from following, his hands firmly keeping her at arms' length.

  “Why not?”

  “Because it's wrong.”

  “Don't worry,” she said, her breath heavy, her woman's flesh slicked with a dampness she couldn't ignore, “I'll still be able to look at myself in the mirror tomorrow.”

  “The trouble is... I wouldn't be able to look at me.”

  Blade's words were like a dash of cold water and Lynn snapped out of the trance-

  like state. He was correct, of course. She was merely trying to use him.

  Unfortunately, he wasn't going to let her use sex to get her through the night.

  ***

  He waited until the night was still but for the lap of water against the riverbank, and as he could see through his binoculars, the security guard had taken to dozing in fits and starts.

  He went in the back way, the delivery entrance off the loading dock. Having jammed the lock earlier, he'd kept watch. No one had been by since to notice.

  As he took the fire stairs two at a time up to the lobby level, he went over his plan in his mind. No more slip-ups. This time he would get her where she lived and his final
victory over her would be all the sweeter. This time he wouldn't give her a chance to scream, to alert some busybody who would call the cops again.

  The sharp click of the lobby door startled him, but apparently not so the guard, who continued to doze with a soft snore.

  Prepared for what he had to do, he slid silently forward and cold-cocked the other man before he could so much as stir. Then he quickly dragged the guard's limp body into the staff room. There he trussed him like a calf for branding and used duct tape to keep his trap shut so he couldn't scream for help. Grabbing the guard's keys, he left the man there for his morning relief to find.

  The morning would be too late for Evelyn Cross.

  He chuckled to himself as he imagined her shock when she realized she wasn't even safe in her own bed, after all,

  But his big grin died when the elevator door opened and he came face-to-face with a tall, sandy-haired guy in his early thirties. Ducking his head so that his billed cap would hide his face, he shoved by the guy without a word, then realized the man had turned to stare at him for a moment before heading for the guard's desk.

  Damn, what if the prick could make him!

  “Hey, Tony, I'm leaving,” the guy said even as the elevator doors closed.

  Sweating now, not knowing what the other man would do when he realized the security guard wasn't behind his desk, he hit thirty-one, just in case. He didn't want anyone putting it together too soon.

  The ride up took forever. The walk down three flights to twenty-eight longer.

  He waited at the hallway fire door and listened. No sounds. If anyone were alerted, they wouldn't know where to look for him. And if he had the slightest worry about someone being on his tail, this was a damn big building. He could lose himself for as long as it took.

  By the time he arrived at her door, he had the passkey in hand. Listening hard, he heard nothing.

  He was inside in a minute.

  The room was dark just as it ought to be, except for the moonlight streaming through her windowed wall. Enough light for him to see by. Enough to make out her bedroom door that stood open.

  This was all so easy it gave him a hard-on. Not that he would waste it on her. But it felt good. Made him feel powerful. He stroked himself through his trousers in anticipation as he slid into her bedroom, illuminated by moonlight, as well. The hard-on faded fast when he realized the bed was empty and still made.