by H M Thomas
“I’ll actually take a whiskey straight.” He leaned an elbow on the bar and scanned the crowd again. Still no Gretchen.
“Thanks.” He smiled when Amber slid his drink across the bar instead of handing it to him. “Everything okay?”
Amber nodded but didn’t meet his eyes.
“You sure? If something’s wrong, I’ll help you.” He reached out a large hand, and she jerked away.
He fisted his hand and pulled back. Amber was obviously terrified of someone or something. A woman’s fear was something he didn’t abide.
“Is there someone you’d rather talk to?” he tried. “I could get Lilah. Raymond won’t mind if you two go in the back and talk.”
Amber cocked her head and studied him through narrowed eyes. “You don’t know,” she mumbled.
“No, I don’t. What’s wrong?”
Her eyes darted to a place over his shoulder. Finn turned and tensed. Behind him, Grant looked defeated. His shoulders didn’t stand as rigid as they usually did, and his eyes were dark, haunted.
“What’s the problem?” Finn straightened, ready to take care of whatever issue had arisen.
“I’m sorry, boss,” Grant started. “Everything was fine when I left last night. I don’t know what happened.”
“Gre—” he stopped himself, suddenly feeling sick. If anything had happened to her, he wouldn’t survive it. “Where is she? What happened?”
“She’s backstage.” Grant swallowed. “I don’t know what happened. She talked to Carlisle. I haven’t spoken with her. She told Carlisle her boyfriend did it.”
Boyfriend? Gretchen didn’t have a boyfriend.
Amber’s eyes filled with tears. “I thought she meant you.”
Finn nodded, trying to contain the rage within him. He threw back his drink and ground his teeth as the burn worked its way down his chest. Then pushing past Grant, he headed backstage.
“Jay,” Grant called, taking his arm firmly. “She’s bruised up, whoever did it, he uh—”
“I’ll see for myself.” Finn spun and stomped backstage.
Gretchen didn’t turn when he came through the heavy curtains, she didn’t have to. Her face reflected back at him from the makeup mirror where she sat, trying to conceal the bruises that marred her normally flawless skin. Tears sprang to his eyes, something that hadn’t happened since his childhood. Gretchen dropped her head and put down the makeup brush. Then she sat, staring into her lap.
No. He had denied her for years, tried to keep her away from the trouble wrapped up in this world. And now . . .
He rushed to her and crouched beside her, reaching out to pull her to him. She jerked away and pushed up from the bench. On the other side of the room, she stopped.
Finn dropped his hands and watched her. “Baby, what happened?” His voice had grown thick with tears and fear, two things he no longer remembered how to live with.
She dropped her head, rubbing absently at her wrists. Vivid blue and purple bruises ringed the joints around the raw skin. Bile mixed with tears in his throat.
“Two guys.” Her voice came out stronger than he’d expected. “They got into my apartment last night. They tied my hands.” She bit her lip and looked away. The movement exposed a healing cut stretched across the skin of her throat.
No longer able to stay away, he stood and went to her.
When he reached for her, she pushed him away. “You did this,” she yelled at him. “You and that bitch you’re with. She wants me to know I’m nothing but a whore to you and everyone else.”
“What?” He stepped back as if he’d been slapped. “What are you talking about?”
Gretchen went to her bag and pulled out a crumpled picture. She threw it at him, and he bent to retrieve it from where it fluttered to the floor. His stomach knotted as he stared at the picture of him and Ronnie. It had been taken a night about a year ago at her penthouse in Miami. He hadn’t known there was a camera.
“Baby, that’s not—”
She shoved him again, her face only a breath from his. “Don’t you tell me that’s not you.” Tears filled her eyes. “I know your body, and that is your body.”
He couldn’t deny it. “It’s old. That didn’t happen last night. I haven’t been with anyone since you.”
She glared back at him, her eyes black and shuttered. Any trust she’d had in him was now destroyed. He swallowed as that realization set in.
“And I suppose you didn’t tell her last night that I’m a tart who means nothing to you?”
He stared back at her, his chest suddenly too tight to breathe comfortably. She was never supposed to hear that.
She smirked when he didn’t answer. “That’s what I thought. That’s what they made me listen to as I stared at that fucking picture with a knife at my throat.”
He moved toward her again, determined to have her in his arms.
“Don’t touch me.” He hadn’t known her capable of the fury contained in her low voice. “Don’t ever fucking touch me again.”
He stepped back. He might not touch her now, but he would do so again.
“Who did it?” His voice took on a lethal tone reserved for Carlisle’s most pressing problems.
She went back to her bag and pulled out two pictures and a flash drive. She handed over the pictures and he took them. He knew these men. He’d seen them when he came in tonight.
Finn looked into her eyes. “Where’d you get this?”
“My apartment’s rigged with motion cameras. It’s how my partner got to me in time.” She shrugged, but her façade had started to crack.
Bile rose in his throat.
“Maybe you and Ronnie will enjoy the show.”
“I had nothing to do with this, you can’t think—”
“You had everything to do with it.” Her ragged voice broke. “All of your protection made her think you cared more about me than you do. You should’ve let everyone know you didn’t give a shit about me. It would’ve made things a hell of a lot easier for me.”
“You can’t believe I don’t care.” Even if she didn’t know he was in love with her, she couldn’t deny he’d always cared about her.
“You’re like a little boy with a fucking toy,” she accused with a humorless laugh. “You don’t give a shit about it. You just don’t want anybody else to touch it.”
“Umm, Lilah, five,” the DJ interrupted reluctantly from the other side of the curtain.
She nodded. “Thanks.”
“You are not going out there,” Finn ordered.
“I still have a job to do,” she warned, lowering her voice. “And I don’t mean the dancing. Don’t try to stop me. That bitch and her crew are going down, and I don’t give a shit if you’re in my way. The rules of the game have changed drastically.”
Before Finn could stop her, she disappeared onto the stage.
~ ~ ~
Finn wanted to pull his gaze away from the screen, but he wouldn’t. He forced himself to watch Gretchen’s attack, the same way those bastards had forced her to endure it. Rage washed over him and drowned him in waves of anger with no hope of relief. He’d only known fury like this when his mother had been killed, and now, like then, someone would pay.
And yet, even through the fury, he had to admire Gretchen. She met the eyes of her attackers with her chin up and her spine erect. When anyone else would have given up, Gretchen glared back and spit at their feet. Even when one of them yanked her head back and shoved the picture in her already bruising face, she called them cowards. She was a fucking warrior. Which was why when she listened to him say she was nothing to him, and her mask crumbled and her sobs escaped, his heart plummeted to his stomach with such force he was almost sick.
Finally, when the recording stopped, he yanked out the dri
ve. He resisted the urge to crush it in his fist as he stood. Instead, he forced himself to breathe deeply and fight for the calm he could always find when dealing with Carlisle’s problems. This was different though. This wasn’t Carlisle’s problem, it was his problem, his woman, and he had to make the bastards who’d hurt her pay.
He strode out of the office and down the hall, past the room where he’d first slept with Gretchen. He paused at the door. In one short month, she’d turned his world upside down and changed everything he thought he knew about his life, his heart and his mind. How had he ever survived before her? And how would he ever go on without her? Giving himself over to her, tying his life to hers would be risky, but if she wasn’t a risk worth taking, he’d have been better off dying years ago.
He pushed forward, until he came out into the open area by the bar, then searched the room for Gretchen’s attackers. He found them in the back, their eyes glued to the stage with expressions of lewd cravings. They’d no doubt watched Gretchen dance, probably relived the way she’d felt as they’d touched her. Maybe they even planned to finish what they’d started. They wouldn’t get that chance; he’d see to it. Even if he hadn’t loved Gretchen, he would’ve punished these men for what they’d done. But not loving her had never been an option, so tonight the motherfuckers would be lucky to survive.
~ ~ ~
Gretchen passed through the heavy black curtains and looked up, surprised to see Finn stalking across the dance floor toward her. Her breath caught at the naked rage in his eyes. Rage that reminded her of the way he’d looked the day his mother had been killed. The day she’d realized she’d never love another man the way she had always loved him. That type of rage changed the course of people’s lives.
Finn stopped in front of her and took her face in his hands, pulling her to him. He pressed his lips to hers, then slid his tongue between her lips, deepening the kiss. She shuddered slightly before she surrendered. She put her hands on his wrists, clinging to him.
“You’re mine.” He pulled away slightly. “I try to protect you because you’re my soul, not some fucking toy. I’d die before I let something happen to you.”
Tears pushed at the corners of her eyes as she met his glare. Fury warred with warmth, compassion and possibly even love, for her.
“They should have believed me before.” He kissed her then pulled away.
“What? Wait.” Grabbing his sleeve, she turned him to face her. “What’re you doing?”
“Don’t ask me. That’s our deal, remember?”
She did, and she also remembered how she used to be able to squelch the fury in him. That wouldn’t be an option tonight. He needed action, not soothing.
“You don’t have to do anything.” She’d never forgive herself if he got in trouble protecting her.
He sneered. “Like hell I don’t. Those bastards knew what I would do when they dared touch my woman.”
She opened her mouth to protest, stopping cold when he turned his piercing glare on her.
“You are mine.” He moved back to her and fisted a hand in her short wig. “And I’m yours, Gretch.”
He claimed her mouth with his, and her nipples tightened against the fabric of her dress before she wound her arms around his neck, holding him close.
“I’ll be back,” he promised.
He turned from her and signaled for Grant as he made his way through the bar toward the two men who’d held her at knifepoint and would’ve raped her if Neil hadn’t arrived.
As an agent she should feel that justice wasn’t being served, but as a victim, as someone who could still feel the cool blade of the knife against her throat, digging in enough to draw blood and the rough palms of the men scratching over her panties, she only hoped Finn made them suffer.
Chapter 12
When Finn returned to the club hours later, he’d changed clothes. Instead of the black suit he’d worn earlier, he now wore jeans and a black leather jacket. Gretchen’s body grew warm and her core clenched at the sight of him. As he drew closer, she could see a cut at the corner of his perfect mouth. The knuckles on the hand that reached for her were battered, and he tensed when he squeezed her hand in his.
She couldn’t explain why her panties were suddenly damp, whether caused by a primal pleasure because he’d protected her, or the simple fact he looked so damn sexy and dangerous. She knew she wanted him and tonight she’d have him.
“Are you ready?” He didn’t meet her gaze.
“Sure.” She let him lead her out of the club and to his car, waiting as he opened the door for her before she slid inside. Her dress rode up to expose the bare skin between her thigh-highs and short dress to the cool night air.
Silence pulsed in the air between them as he drove to his apartment reminding her of the first night he’d taken her there. The night she’d claimed to hate him, even while already in love with him.
By the time they entered his apartment, he still hadn’t spoken. She followed him inside and went to the fridge as he made his way to his bedroom. She took a moment to fill a glass with water, anything that might calm her nerves and squelch the desire inside her. The time to save herself from whatever pain might possibly await her for falling in love with Finn had passed. Whether he loved her or not, tonight she had to be honest with him about her own feelings. She finished the water and padded to his bedroom.
He stood at the window, staring out at nothing. “Don’t ask me about it.” He didn’t turn around. “I don’t feel like talking.”
“Good.” She pushed away from the doorway, where she had stopped to watch him, and went to him. “I didn’t come in here to talk.”
He turned, and in his eyes waged a war of emotions. Anger still churned there along with pain and a hint of desperation. “It’s probably best if I stay in the other room.”
He began to move away from her. She couldn’t let that happen. Finn needed to know he couldn’t hide from her. In order for a relationship between them to have a chance of survival, they had to do it together, even when things got ugly. She took hold of his belt. He stopped, his body alert and rigid.
“You still mad?” She let her lips turn up slightly.
His glower melted her playfulness. “I’m not in the mood to be gentle,” he warned.
She ran a hand through his hair. “You wouldn’t hurt me.” Although her voice came out strong, her insides trembled. He’d never physically hurt her, but emotionally he could decimate her.
He circled her wrist, stilling her hand.
“You’re not going to turn me away tonight,” she vowed. “If you want to in the morning, go ahead. I’m not asking for your permission tonight.”
She flexed her fingers against his scalp, until bit by bit, the anger he’d fought ebbed from his eyes. Going to her toes, she pressed her lips to his until he softened. When he did, she slid her hands into his jacket, and pushed it from his shoulders as she walked him slowly toward the bed.
~ ~ ~
Finn’s breath hitched as Gretchen brushed her soft hands against his chest and her lips ignited small flames over his skin. She peeled his shirt away as her hands kneaded the muscles of his back. He closed his eyes. The scent of her permeated his every breath as she bent to kiss along his shoulder and down his chest.
Murmuring her name like a wish, he concentrated on the curve of her lips against his skin. She didn’t rush as she trailed kisses down his body and slid the zipper of his jeans down. Then she went to her knees. When she took him into her warm, wet mouth, he fisted his hands in her hair. Pins fell to the floor and curls tumbled down her back. Unable to stop himself, he pressed his hips forward. Without complaint, she opened for him and took more. When he thought he couldn’t take anymore, she rose and pushed him to the bed. He watched, fascinated, as she slid the zipper of her dress down and let the fabric simply fall away to pool
at her feet.
Although Gretchen’s beauty had always attracted him, he’d never physically ached for her the way he did now. She ran her hands down her body, over her unbound breasts and to the garter belt that held up her smooth stockings. Lifting one foot to the bed, she unsnapped the garter and slowly slid the silk down her leg. He followed the trail of exposed skin with his fingers. When she replaced the first foot with the second, he unsnapped the hose himself and slid them down her legs, before reaching up to tear away the scrap of lace that covered her sex. She took his hand and led him to her center. When his fingers found her wet and warm, her eyes drifted closed. She fisted her hands in his hair, tightening around his fingers.
“Tell me you want me,” she demanded.
“I want you, Gretchen.” Those words had never been truer.
“And you need me.”
He slid his fingers from her body and sucked them into his mouth. “I need you.”
She straddled his hips and took him inside. Damp heat surrounded him.
“My God, I need you,” he groaned.
Her hips quickened, rising and falling to a carnal beat only she heard. It would be easy to roll her over and pound into her all the anger and confusion the night had brought with it. Instead he fisted his hands in the hair that cascaded down her back and surrendered to her, the way she’d done to him from the start.
Still, he needed more. Being inside her with her body pressed against his, still wasn’t close enough or deep enough. It never would be. He’d never get his fill of her. And then she looked into his eyes, driving him closer to the edge of delirium, and he knew he wanted to spend his entire life taking as much of her as he could.