To his surprise she reached out and took his shaking hand in hers and squeezed. He was trying to comfort her by sharing his story and now she was comforting him.
“I cried. Sobbin’, hysterical.” He grimaced. It was not something a man liked to admit, but he was still learning how to deal with all of this and being honest about it seemed to be the best way. “The guilt…” His throat constricted and he couldn’t finish.
✽✽✽
He understands.
So many people in her life had never understood, and never would. And she was glad they wouldn’t because the only way they could was if they’d suffered through it like she had, and she wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Connor had been so honest with her. She knew how difficult it was sharing this. She’d had trouble even discussing it with her therapist. She took a shaky breath.
“That’s the worst part.” She whispered. “The shame. You keep thinking ‘What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I get it together?’ You wonder if you’ll ever be able to fix what’s broken, and you feel like you should have been strong enough not to break in the first place.”
He raised her hand to his mouth and brushed kisses over her knuckles. One, two, three. She felt a tear slip free and slide down her cheek.
“I’ll tell you the same thing someone told me, once.” He said quietly. “Everyone breaks. No matter how strong, how tough, everyone breaks at some point. The test lies in how you mend.”
She considered his words and she understood what he meant. There was a time in her life, after everything crashed around her, when she had weighed her options and she’d had a moment of clarity that told her the path she chose to walk in the aftermath would be the most important decision she’d make.
“Thank you.” She said. “I appreciate you sharing that with me. I know how hard it is.”
He nodded and kissed her hand again.
“I won’t ask you.” He assured her. “But I’d be honored to listen if you ever want to talk about it.”
She nodded, appreciative that he wasn’t going to push her, and touched that he understood how much trust it would take for her to share her story, just as he’d trusted her with part of his.
“I will.” She promised. “Some day.”
He gave her a warm, genuine smile, and she felt the knot in her chest ease some.
He pulled up in front of her house and opened the door. He took his time moving around the front end, checking the street as he went, before opening her door for her. She prepared to step out, when he simply scooped her up and carried her to her door. She dug the keys out of her purse and unlocked it and he carried her inside. She didn’t bother to protest.
He set her down, keeping an arm around her waist until he was sure she was steady on her feet, and then disappeared without a word. She knew the drill and she waited until he returned.
He came downstairs after checking the second floor, but instead of telling her to lock up behind him, he did it himself. He slid the deadbolt home and then grabbed her hand, tugging her up the stairs. Her heart kicked into a higher gear, when it already felt like it was hammering away at her rib cage in an attempt to escape.
She swallowed hard and hesitated for a moment. He looked down at her and smiled, smoothing away the hair from her face.
“Don’t worry, lass.” He murmured. “I’m just goin’ to tuck you in.”
She laughed, the noise sounding nervous, almost hysterical, to her own ears. She suspected he did that on purpose, made her laugh to put her at ease. It was sweet of him.
“Oh, alright.” She rolled her eyes. “I suppose I can let the big, sexy Scot tuck me in.” She was sure she’d turned bright pink the moment the words left her mouth. She wasn’t sure what had come over her, but she enjoyed their playful banter. And their snarky banter. Any banter with him, really.
She didn’t look at him as she started climbing the stairs. He held her hand and walked up in silence. She pushed open the bedroom door and groaned at the sea of clothes on every surface. She’d forgotten about the mess she left, and now she was more embarrassed than ever.
Dear God, what is wrong with me?
Connor dropped her hand, and she ignored the disappointment she felt as the loss of his warm hand in hers. She assumed he was going to leave, but instead he grabbed her bedspread and yanked it down, tossing all the clothes on the floor. Then he meticulously straightened it, folding one side over neatly so that I could climb in.
“Problem solved.” Connor smiled, spreading his arms wide.
“You are quite the problem solver, aren’t you?” She replied, batting her eyelashes.
What the hell?
She only ever batted her eyelashes sarcastically. She ducked past him to the dresser on the far wall and pulled out a pair of flannel pants and a t-shirt. She went to the bathroom to change and get ready for bed. She returned a while later, face washed, teeth brushed, clothes changed, hair brushed and skin moisturized. In that time, Connor had picked up the clothing off the floor, folded it, and piled it on her dresser.
“You didn’t have to do that.” She murmured, feeling self-conscious. She’d felt like an idiot most of the night- panicking over what to wear, having a panic attack at the bar, and now standing here in pajamas while he picked up after her. Pathetic.
He shrugged and set the last carefully folded item on the pile. “How else am I supposed to nick a pair of yer panties fer my collection?”
She couldn’t help it, she laughed. His answering smile was relieved.
“Nah. It’s habit at this point. My sister is a slob, she leaves things all over the place. I was constantly goin’ behind her and tidyin’ up. It’s the main reason I got my own place, frankly.” He chuckled.
“Seems like you two are close.” She observed.
“Yeah, she’s a sweet kid, just a little high strung.”
“It’s good that you have each other.” Alexandra sighed, opening the top drawer and pulling out a pair of thick fuzzy socks. In for a penny… if she was going to look ridiculous in front of this gorgeous man, she might as well be comfortable. She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on the purple fuzzy socks.
“You’re no wearing those to bed, are ye?” He asked, horrified.
“Yeah, why?”
“You don’t wear socks to bed. That’s… mental.”
“Mental?” She chuckled, raising her eyebrows.
“Mental.” He confirmed with a grave nod. “Completely daft.”
She burst into laughter. She laughed until her sides ached and tears streamed down her face. It felt good, but it was all too brief.
When she came to her senses, Connor was looming over her, his face hard, jaw clenched, eyes glittering. Her breath hitched when he gave her a predatory smile.
“What’s so funny there, lass?” He asked, as if daring her to laugh again.
“You’re adorable.” She said with a shrug. Her face heated. The look he gave her was incredulous, and then positively chagrined.
“Adorable?” He choked out.
“Yes.” She replied. Her face heated even more, but she kept her eyes on his. “I find your Scottishisms adorable.”
“Scottishisms?” He said offended, bewildered. “Surely, that’s no a real word.”
“Idioms? Colloquialisms? Whatever you want to call them.” She replied, suppressing a giggle. She’d never seen him so… flustered. She rather liked it.
He leaned over her, placing his hands on the bed on either side of her. Instinctively, she leaned away from him until she was perilously close to lying down. She rested on her elbows and licked her lips nervously. She saw his gaze fasten on her mouth and her heart skipped a beat.
A cell phone rang, Connor’s apparently. He let out a muttered curse and stepped back, digging the phone out of his pocket. He held up a finger, indicating he’d be back, and hustled out to the hall. Was she relieved or disappointed at the interruption? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to that.
Trying to recover he
r sanity and calm her frantic heartbeat, she climbed into bed and burrowed beneath the blankets. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. She could hear Connor talking in the hallway, but only as a low rumble. She couldn’t distinguish words, but she enjoyed the sound nonetheless. It was nice to not be alone, even if only temporarily. She let the deep timbre of his voice wash over her and she began to drift.
✽✽✽
Connor spent twenty fecking minutes on the phone, first trying to reassure a hysterical client who had received a phone call from the police because something or someone had tripped their security system, and then getting his report from his man on the scene.
They rotated through the responsibility of being on call in case of emergencies like these, their answering service forwarding the call to the designated man depending on the schedule that was updated monthly. But it never failed that Connor got dragged into it, no matter whose night it was. Every. Fecking. Time.
He took a deep breath and remembered that was just one of the perks of running your own company and being your own boss. Everything ends with you. If something went wrong, he had to step in and fix it. If something came up that they weren’t prepared for, he had to figure out what to do next. If someone got hurt, either a client or one of his men, it was on him.
There were days he thrived on the challenge, and then there were days when the pressure made him want to chuck it all and retire to Inverness. But then he remembered that this is what he loved, this is what he excelled at, and this is what kept Angel safe and provided for. She worked and was determined to take care of herself as much as possible, but he made sure she knew that he had her back. No matter what happened, he was her safety net.
So, he took the company one day at a time, and one challenge at a time. And right now, there was a challenging woman waiting for him in the other room while he’d been standing out here, thumb up is arse, playing phone tag.
He tucked his phone away after setting it to vibrate and returned to Alexandra’s bedroom. Where he was greeted with the sight of her tucked in, eyes closed and snoring softly. He cursed under his breath at the missed opportunity.
Or was it a bullet dodged?
He knew it was stupid and potentially dangerous to get too involved with a protectee, but there was something about her. He reveled in those moments when he saw life and fire in her eyes, or when she was so achingly sweet and shy. He wanted to know what made her tick, what gave her pleasure.
And he wanted to know what made her spend most of her time behind the professional, unemotional mask she wore. Most likely it was the same traumatizing event that had caused her panic attack earlier tonight. She was such a strange contradiction. Vulnerable and strong, sassy and shy. Sultry one moment and self-conscious as hell the next. He didn’t know what to make of her just yet, but he suspected it would be a whole hell of a lot of fun figuring it out.
He sighed and realized the moment was gone. Instead of standing here watching her sleep like some moonstruck teenager, he should get home and get some sleep. Though it seemed a shame to head home just to turn around and head back here in the morning. But she’d been adamant about having her own space, so he’d just have to deal.
He descended the stairs and was nearly at the bottom when a strangled cry made his adrenaline spike. He drew his piece and sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He sidled up to the door and gingerly pushed it open.
Alexandra was thrashing in bed, sheets and blankets twisted around her legs, pillows pushed to the floor. Connor flicked on the safety and holstered his gun, rushing to the bed. He cradled her face in his hands, disturbed by the look of sheer terror on her face.
“Lex, are you okay? Wake up, love. Wake up. You’re okay. You’re safe.” He kept his voice calm and low, trying not to frighten her any more. She thrashed and whimpered and his chest squeezed at the fear and pain etched into her soul.
“No! No, no, no, no.” She muttered.
“Come on, sweetheart. Wake up.” He said more firmly. Her eyes flew open and her body went rigid. Her eyes were glazed and hazy and she immediately squirmed away, backing up to the headboard, pulling her knees to her chest, tears flowing freely down her face.
“It’s alright, Lex.” He soothed. “You’re safe. You’re at home.”
Her eyes cleared and confusion slowly replaced the terror. And the shame followed swiftly on its heels. She lowered her head in her hands and sobbed. Her shoulders shook and Connor couldn’t stand it any longer. He sat on the bed and pulled her to him, hoisting her up onto his lap. She turned away, trying to hide her face, but he wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest until some of the tension left her body and her sobs became less frequent. She wouldn’t look at him as she sniffled and frantically wiped at her face.
“You want to tell me about it?” He murmured.
She shook her head vehemently. “Can’t. I c-can’t.” She whispered. He opened his mouth to tell her it was okay, but snapped it shut when her hand flew to her mouth.
“Sick.” She gasped.
Connor scooped her up and marched to the bathroom. He set her down and she lurched for the toilet, retching violently. He knelt behind her, sweeping her hair away from her face. He pulled a washcloth down from the towel bar behind him and turned on the cold water. He wet the washcloth and ran across the back of her neck, the side of her face and across her forehead. He draped it around her neck and ran his hand up and down her back, trying to soothe her.
She heaved a few more times, her shoulders shaking, tears streaming down her face, before she slumped back on her heels. Connor continued to run his hand up and down her back as he wiped her face and mouth with the washcloth.
He was calm on the outside, but inside he was seething. Someone had hurt her so badly that she was still suffering. She had panic attacks and nightmares. If he guessed correctly, this had something to do with Lucas Whitmore, the man who was likely stalking her. And he wanted to hunt him down and make him pay. Dearly.
Death would be too swift, too merciful for the type of monster who would traumatize a woman so severely. His jaw clenched with the urge to slam his fists into the walls, into the tile floor, into Whitmore’s face.
“You alright?” Connor asked after several minutes of silence. She nodded weakly and tried to stand. She was shaking so badly that he didn’t know if she’d be able to take two steps on her own. He growled and swept her into his arms. She gasped in surprise but offered no other protest.
“Don’t worry, lass, I’ve got ye.” She seemed to be amused when he let his “Scottishisms” slip, and though he’d rather bite of his own tongue than have this beautiful, intelligent, sexy woman call him “adorable” one more time, he would do a great many things to help lift the sadness from her face and chase the shadows from her eyes.
Rather than smile, or laugh, she frowned, confused. He set her gently on the bed and straightened out the blankets, tucking her back in. He replaced the pillows behind her and then sat on the edge of the bed.
“Anything I can get you, love?” He asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Water?” She asked, still looking confused. He let it go. For now. He went to the bathroom where he’d seen a glass on the counter. He filled it with cool water from the tap and brought it to her, along with the bottle of mouthwash he spotted beside the sink.
She murmured a thank you and drank. Just a sip at first, and then another. Then a long gulp. She set the glass aside on the side table and he handed her the mouthwash.
“I imagine you’ll be wantin’ this.” He said. She nodded, blushing, and took a small swig. She swished and spit it into the glass, which he promptly took to the bathroom, rinsed, and refilled. He set it back on the table and then sat on the bed again.
“Why?” She croaked. Her voice was raspy, whether from spewing her guts up, the emotions he could see churning in her eyes, or both.
“Why what?” He asked, cocking his head.
“You didn’t
have to-” She looked positively stricken at realizing what he’d seen. He held up a hand to stop her.
“I’ve been there. It’s always better when you’re not alone.” He took her hand and squeezed it gently. “Besides, it isn’t the first time I’ve had to hold a woman’s hair back. I took Angel out for her 21st birthday and she was spectacularly pissed by the end of it. At least you didn’t boot on my shoes.”
She gave him a wane smile.
“Or in my car. Or on the carpet. Or in the bushes outside the pub.” He finished with a grin.
Her smile grew slightly and she ducked her head.
“You’re a good brother. A good man.” She muttered. “Thank you.”
✽✽✽
Connor sucked in a sharp breath and she knew she’d said the wrong thing. She just couldn’t seem to stop humiliating herself. She wished the ground would just swallow her up, or that she’d wake up and find out the last twelve hours had been a horrible nightmare. Dear God, she’d thrown up. Several times. While he held her hair. Sweet baby Jesus, just take me now.
Rather than look at him and see what a fool she’d been written all over his face, she tried to bury her face in the covers.
“Alexandra.” Her name came out as purr. She peeked at him briefly through her lashes, but quickly looked away.
“Look at me, love.” He said. His voice was soft, but his tone was commanding. He reinforced his demand with a knuckle under her chin. She looked up, not sure what to expect.
“No one has ever given me a better compliment.” He said, sincerity in his eyes. “Thank you.” She tried to turn away to hide her blush of pleasure, but he held her chin firm. “You’ve nothing to be ashamed of. You’re a brave woman. You survived, and you’re still functioning. That’s no small thing. You should be proud of that.”
She hadn’t ever thought about that. She’d focused on all the things that had gone wrong, on all the ways she was still broken. She hadn’t spent much time thinking about how she’d clawed her way back from the brink and kept on living.
Her Protector Page 10
