Her Protector

by Rianna Campbell

  His phone rang on the nightstand and Connor sighed, dropping his head against her shoulder. His hand stilled, but he waited a beat before rolling over and snatching the phone.

  “Connor.” He snapped. He listened for a moment before rising and walking briskly to the dresser. He retrieved a pair of sweatpants he’d unpacked earlier and tugged them on as he listened.

  So much for sexy time.

  ✽✽✽

  “Sorry, love. Emergency I need to deal with. Get some sleep, alright?” Connor kissed Alexandra’s cheek and tried to control his racing heart and keep his face neutral as he retrieved his laptop and moved to the sitting area. He plugged it in and got it loading before stepping into the hallway for a moment.

  “Still there?” Sam’s voice came through the phone.

  “Yeah. Start from the beginning.”

  “A friend of mine at the police department checked on his probation record. His current address is in Newark and apparently works for an uncle who does construction. He’s never missed an appointment and has passed all his home visits. No issues. I had him send me the records and looked a little closer. He’s requested, and been granted, travel permits to come into the city four times in the last six months. Each time for only a day or two.”

  “Why?”

  “Family visitation. Apparently he has a cousin who lives in Queens.”

  “Dates?”

  “I’ve already sent the reports to your email. It’s impossible to tell precisely when the photos were taken, but he wasn’t in town when they were delivered to her office or when the note was on your car.”

  “Okay. So, either it isn’t him, or he’s got an accomplice. Any luck on the photos?”

  “I did a little better than Archie’s guy, but not by much. I sent the photos, too. Have a look.”

  “I will. One more thing, did the court issue a protective order?”

  “Yup.”

  “Send me that too.”

  “Done.”

  “And Sam? Find everything you can on the cousin.”

  “Got it.”

  “Thanks.” Connor hung up the phone and tried to control his rising anxiety. That piece of shite Whitmore had been in New York City. He didn’t care why, or if he was behind the photos and the threats, just knowing he’d been within ten miles of Alexandra was enough to make him want to find a high building and his old Barrett M82.

  He allowed himself to enjoy a brief fantasy of taking the fecker out from a quarter mile away. He could get away with it too. It would be a tough shot but he could make it, and by the time they located where it came from, any trace of him would be gone. He could strip the rifle down and toss it in the Hudson and no one’s the wiser.

  He’d never enjoyed killing. He’d done it, and done it well, but every shot had stolen a piece of his soul. Somehow he didn’t think Whitmore would trouble him. The bastard didn’t deserve to live. But he’d have to lie to Alexandra, and he didn’t want to have to do that. If it came to it, he’d kill him without hesitation, but he was a soldier, not a murderer.

  Connor spent a good hour reading, and rereading what Sam had sent him. He memorized the photo of Whitmore that accompanied his file. If he ever saw him on the street...

  Finally, he decided he needed to get some sleep. He was wrestling with the decision of how much to tell Lex. This was supposed to be time for her to relax and enjoy her friend’s wedding. He didn’t want to spoil it with news that might not even be relevant.

  Relevant or not to the current situation, he knew Alexandra would still want to know what he’d found out about Whitmore. He’d tell her as soon as they got back from London.

  He stripped out of his sweats and turned out the light. He climbed into the bed and pulled Alexandra back against his chest until she was snug against him from head to foot. He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled the flowery scent of the hotel shampoo. He could still detect the sweet smell of her skin underneath.

  She made a small contented sigh and slid her arm over his where it draped across her stomach. Fear gripped him, sudden and sharp. He had to keep her safe. He had to make sure no one could get to her. He didn’t know what he would do-- how he would live with himself-- if anything happened to her.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Alexandra awoke to a grey drizzly day through the picture window, but with Connor snuggled up behind her, an arm draped around her shoulders she was warm and cozy. She had no desire whatsoever to move, perhaps for the rest of the day, but unfortunately nature called. She slipped away as gently as possible, not wanting to disturb him.

  She went to the bathroom, brushed her teeth and her hair and slipped back into her robe. She sat on the bed just staring at Connor as he slept. He was always so handsome, but asleep, he looked so relaxed and young.

  As Alexandra watched, he frowned. Still sleeping, his face contorted into one of anguish and his body twitched restlessly. She froze, unsure what to do. It was clear that he was having a nightmare, but she didn’t know how to wake him. She’d heard stories about how dangerous it can be to wake a soldier in the midst of a bad dream. Connor himself had told her how, in the throes of a flashback, he’d unintentionally sent his sister sprawling.

  “Connor?” She said, quietly. She laid a gentle hand on his leg. He mumbled something indecipherable and continued to thrash. “Connor, wake up.” She said louder. “You’re safe. We’re in London. I’m here with you. It’s okay.” She didn’t know what to do other than just to talk to him until he came to or settled back into a more peaceful sleep.

  She squeezed his leg gently and continued to talk in calm, soothing tones, though her heart was pounding and she was working on a cold sweat of her own. She could not afford to have her own panic attack now. Connor needed her.

  “Connor, wake up. It’s me, Alexandra. I need you to wake up for me now, okay? Can you wake up for me? Please?”

  Connor stilled and his eyes sprang open. His chest was heaving as if he’d been running for his life.

  “Are you okay?” Alexandra said quietly. She wasn’t sure he was fully awake and she was afraid to make any sudden moves.

  “London. We’re in London.” He said, almost more to himself. He took several deep breaths and closed his eyes, clearly trying to get control of his body. Alexandra had been there before. She knew the drill. Knowing he was awake and aware, she scooted closer and set her hand on his chest, feeling the frantic beating of his heart.

  “Are you okay?” She repeated.

  “Fine.” He said, brusquely. He sat up and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before hopping up and heading for the bathroom.

  He definitely wasn’t fine. She wanted him to talk to her. She’d broken down in front of him more than once. He’d seen her in the grip of a panic attack, after a nightmare, and he’d heard her tell the story of the worst night of her life. She’d opened up to him in a way she hadn’t opened up to anyone in almost ten years.

  She knew he had to go at his own pace, and she shouldn’t push him. He hadn’t pushed her, just made the offer and let her decide when the time was right. But still, she wanted him to trust her with his pain. She wanted to be there for him the way he’d been there for her. She wanted to soothe the heartache she had seen etched on his face.

  “What time is it anyway?” He asked, emerging from the bathroom and rummaging in the drawers.

  “A little after nine.” She answered, coming up behind him. He stopped when she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against the broad expanse of his back. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah.” His voice was gruff, but calm.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” She asked, placing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades.

  “I… Not right now.”

  Alexandra tried not to be hurt. She knew how hard it was to let someone into your own private hell. She knew he’d tell her when he was ready. As if sensing her disappointment and her concern, he turned in her arms and hugged her, kissing the crown of her
head.

  “Soon. I promise. I just… it’s too fresh right now.” He said quietly.

  “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

  ✽✽✽

  Connor wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready. Not really ready. He only knew there would be a point where he wouldn’t be able to hold onto it anymore. It would come out and it would be hell. But it wouldn’t be today. There were all of four people who knew what he’d gone through. The three that had survived in that godforsaken desert with him, and the counselor he’d seen after coming home. He hadn’t even told Angel a fraction of what he’d seen-- and done.

  The nightmares were always the same, except for this one. This time Alexandra was on the ground, in that shithole outside of Mosul, while he watched in horror through his scope, unable to do one damn thing to help her. He tamped down the sorrow and the rage and the self-hatred that always surged after one of those dreams, and tried to focus on the here and now.

  He dressed and checked his email while Alexandra got ready. It was oddly soothing to just sit there while she picked out clothes, styled her hair and did her makeup. It was… domestic and normal. Like they really were any other couple on holiday.

  Maybe he could believe for a few minutes that he was just a regular guy, without scars and nightmares and blood on his hands. Someone who wasn’t broken and damaged. Someone who deserved this smart, beautiful woman’s concern and affection.

  He tried to shake himself out of this funk. He wasn’t maudlin by nature and it did no good to dwell on it. Alexandra had been through enough that she needed someone who could focus entirely on her and what she needed, not plague her with his own problems.

  Sooner or later she’d realize she could do better. Until then, he’d make the most of it. He would try to make her happy and he would keep her safe. Or die trying. There was a knock on the hotel room door and Alexandra bolted past him to look through the peephole. She squealed, and an answering squeal replied from the other side of the door.

  Alexandra flipped the latch and opened the door and before he knew it, a petite brunette had flung herself into Alexandra’s arms, wrapping her legs around her waist. Connor stared on in amusement as Alexandra spun in circles and jumped up and down, giggling.

  His heart practically split in two. The sound was so young and free and… joyful. She deserved to feel that all the time. When was the last time he had laughed that way? Had he ever?

  “Oh. My. God.” The brunette, presumably Meagan, shouted. She punctuated each word with a smacking kiss to Alexandra’s cheek. “You are such a sexy Amazon.”

  “And you are still the most beautiful little Hobbittses.” Alexandra replied, setting Meagan down.

  Connor had to chuckle at their apt jokes. Alexandra did in fact look like an Amazon beside the smaller woman. Alexandra towered over her by at least five inches.

  “And who is this?” Meagan asked, shoving Alexandra out of the way and strolling up to Connor, hands on hips. Her eyes narrowed and she gave him a frank once over.

  “This is Connor.” Alexandra said with a smile, coming to stand next to him. He threw an arm over her shoulder and tugged her tightly into her side. He kissed her temple and then extended a hand to the little brunette.

  “Meagan?” He asked. She nodded and shook his hand, still clearly assessing him.

  “Dear God, you’re handsome.” Meagan said, shaking her head.

  “Yes, but he’s also nice.” Alexandra said. Connor just looked from one woman to the other. He wasn’t sure why being labeled handsome was a bad thing, but apparently Alexandra had taken it as one? And defended him?

  “Meagan insists that men who are too handsome must be jerks.” Alexandra said with an apologetic look up at him.

  “Not jerks, douchebags.” Meagan corrected.

  “Well, I hope I’m neither of those.”

  “Besides, your groom is pretty damn handsome.” Alexandra said with a pointed look.

  “Yes, but he’s not too handsome. He has a scar through his left eyebrow which mars his perfection.” Meagan said matter-of-factly.

  “True.” Alexandra laughed.

  “In that case, I’m off the hook.” Connor smiled.

  “Oh?” Meagan quirked an eyebrow.

  “Yup.” He stepped forward and tilted his head to the left so she could see the inch long scar that ran along his jawline. It was old and faded, and you’d hardly notice it if you weren’t looking at it, but it was there. “See this?” He pointed it out, knowing precisely where it was.

  “Hmm. I do.” Meagan nodded. “What happened?”

  “You don’t--” Alexandra began.

  “Riding accident.” He supplied. He told the story of how he’d fallen from his horse during one of his first summers in Scotland, all the while trying to decide if he was more grateful or offended that Alexandra had been prepared to jump in and forestall any questions about what she probably assumed was a war related injury.

  “Alright.” Meagan nodded as if having made her decision. Connor was more anxious about the verdict than he wanted to admit. He wanted Alexandra’s best friend to like him. “I suppose you pass the first test.”

  She offered him a mischievous grin that lit up her heart shaped face and made her dark eyes dance. That, combined with fairly generous assets for her petite frame and lovely olive toned skin, he could see how she’s snagged herself a handsome man. One who’d possibly saved Amanda’s life and who had certainly saved her a certain amount of further pain. For that alone, he was glad that Meagan was a lovely, charming girl. Alexandra’s hero certainly deserved that much.

  He added to the list of things he didn’t want to examine too closely the pang of jealousy he felt when thinking of someone else as Alexandra’s hero. He was certainly glad someone had been her hero at that moment, but still...

  Meagan’s opening salvo did prove to be only the beginning-- of the wedding week festivities as well as the inquisition. Connor tagged along under some pretense or other to everything that was planned for the week, unless it was at a reasonably secure location, like Meagan’s home. Even then, he was never far.

  And at every turn, Meagan seemed to have an entire list of questions prepared that she would pepper with him until she seemed to be satisfied, momentarily. It became a ritual of sorts. They would arrive, Meagan would give Alexandra enough time to become ensconced in whatever the ladies were doing, and then she would pounce. He would spend twenty minutes cornered and questioned, and then he’d be released for the rest of the day.

  By the weekend, he was pretty sure Meagan worked for the FBI and he was now on some kind of watchlist. He just hoped they let him on the plane home.

  ✽✽✽

  The week went by in a blink. Meagan had her so busy, she’d barely had time to breathe, let alone enjoy the sights. But thankfully, Meagan was not the bridezilla type. All the busyness was pure fun. They went shopping, ate at all the best restaurants, drank wine by the bottle with the other bridesmaids, female friends and family, and discussed the good and the bad of everything.

  She and Meagan caught up on anything and everything they’d missed out on since the last time they’d seen each other. It was like a week-long slumber party, except at the end of every exciting day, she returned to the hotel for an exciting night with Connor.

  They ordered room service or snacked on junk food. They talked, they laughed, and they had sex. Incredible sex. A lot of incredible sex. It was like living in a romance novel. It was perfect. Which worried her. In the romance novels, as soon as everything seemed to be going perfect was when disaster struck.

  And that’s how her life had been, it seemed. As soon as things started looking up, the floor fell out from under her. She scolded herself for being so stupid, and told herself to just enjoy it-- enjoy her trip, enjoy Connor-- one day at a time, and deal with whatever comes when it comes. It’s the only way she’d been able to survive for the last nine years.

  Friday night was the “hen do” and Connor had gone to run
some errands, making Alexandra promise to stay in the hotel suite with the door locked until he returned. She was using the time to get ready for the party and wondering what to expect.

  Meagan had come by earlier, luckily, to help her pick out her clothes and weigh in on shoe options but refused to answer any questions about the night's festivities. Whether she genuinely didn’t know what to expect, or thought it would be more fun not to say, Alexandra wasn’t sure. She wouldn’t put it past her, the little sprite.

  She put the finishing touches on her makeup and had just finished getting dressed when she heard a knock on the door of the suite.

  “It’s me.” She heard Connor’s deep voice rumble through the door. Still, she checked just to be sure before she opened the door. He was reading something on his phone as he wandered in, and didn’t look up until she shut and locked the door behind him. When she turned around he stood stock still. He simply stared, eyes roving over her from head to toe.

  “Well? How’d I do?”

  ✽✽✽

  Christ and all the saints… How did she do?

  His brain had ceased functioning due to the rush of blood to more southern regions. Alexandra was sexy in power suits, jeans, gym clothes-- you name it, and she could rock it. But this… He had no words.

  Her hair was wavy and artfully tussled like she’d just gotten out of bed after a night of wild sex. Her eyes were done up in a smokey brown that made her eyes a luminous gold and her lashes were longer and darker than ever. She wore red lipstick that was bright enough to stand out, but dark enough to be seductive instead of tacky.

  And that dress… Hanging on the rack it probably looked plain. It was a deep blue, knee length and long sleeved. But it skimmed her waist and hips in a way that showed off her curves to perfection. The material hugged her breasts, despite a neckline that only showed the barest hint of cleavage.