by Kahlen Aymes
She sighed and settled in to wait the thirty to forty minutes she was told it would take for the technician to arrive. Her eyes felt as if they were full of sand; the burning only intensified as the streetlight she was focusing on blurred. She shook her head and glanced around through the tinted windows.
She picked up the iPhone again, her thumb rubbing over the screen once again. Somehow, holding it in her hand calmed her nerves but made her heart ache. She closed her eyes briefly, and her mind willed Alex to call. She missed him like it had been years rather than weeks.
Angel glanced at the clock in her dash. Barely five minutes had passed since she’d gotten off the phone. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the headrest, attempting to calm her panic. She tried to concentrate on the soft notes drifting from the speakers, the songs on her iPod her only company.
The shrill electronic ringing made her jump in her seat. Who could be calling at such a time? Her heart thudded heavily in her chest as she glanced toward the offending object. She knew. It had to be Mark Swanson.
A restricted number registered on the screen, and she picked it up with shaking hands.
“What do you want, you fucked-up bastard?” she spat into the phone. She’d be damned if she’d let him see how terrified she was. Despite her self-defense training, she knew how vulnerable she was.
Mark Swanson’s low chuckle resonated through the earpiece. He sounded maniacal, like some character out of a horror movie. “Are you enjoying your little situation, Angel?”
She steadied herself. “I’m just fine, but your concern is so touching,” she replied as calmly as possible.
He laughed again. “Oh, Angel.” He tsked his tongue against his teeth a few times. “Always so defiant. That’s what I love about you. It will make your surrender that much sweeter. I’m going to fuck you senseless.”
“You’ll have to kill me first.”
“Be careful what you wish for.”
“We both know you don’t have the balls for that. Gonna call in your cronies for the big boy stuff?”
The loud crash of glass breaking had Angel scrambling away from the sound. The tire iron hit the car again and again, making her cower across both seats with her arms curled around her head and her knees pulled up. “Ahhhhhhhhhh!” she screamed, frantically glancing around at the two shadowy figures moving around her car. They were dressed in all black with creepy Halloween masks covering their facial features and all but blended into the night. The tire iron hit the roof of her car, making her scream again as a gloved hand reached in the broken passenger window and unlocked the door.
“Get her out.” A deep voice said from somewhere near the rear of the car. The adrenaline pumping through her veins got her heart beating so fast she felt it would fly from her chest. Her purse still clutched in her hand, she twisted so that when the man reached for her, she could use her feet to defend herself. She watched his arms grasping at her ankle as her other foot delivered a sound kick to his shoulder.
“Guh! You little bitch!” he groaned as he began to yank her out.
“Huh!” She kicked at him again, this time hitting the man soundly in the forehead and snapping his neck back. His hands left her as he fell backward briefly before lunging forward and grabbing her again by both feet. He dragged her out of the car while she struggled for dear life. Her lower back hit the door frame and pain shot through her pelvis as she landed on the pavement with a thud.
“Let go of me! Let go!”
The bigger man came forward and wrapped his arms around Angel’s body, the two of them lifting her and hurrying toward a black van. Angel heaved in their arms, pulling at one of the masks and kicking at the other man’s head. She screamed again, the sound shrill in the dead air. “Ahhhhhh! Somebody, help me!” Steel arms clamped around hers and imprisoned them close to her body so she couldn’t move; both her assailant’s meaty hands imprisoned her wrists tightly.
“Just get her in the goddamn van, Nick!” The other one mumbled, followed by a grunt as one of Angel’s feet broke free of his hold and found purchase on his jaw. “Motherfucker!”
“Get off of me!” she shouted, her voice showing none of the terror she felt.
The door to the van protested in a loud grating of metal as it opened, and they were about to throw her inside when another voice rang out. “Leave the young woman alone!” His tone was hard and authoritative, but Angel didn’t recognize his voice.
Angel landed with a heavy bang inside the back of the unfinished conversion van, moaning as pain shot through her hip and arm. The two men were besieged by two others, and Angel’s eyes squinted to get a better look. She could only see a dark blur of bodies among a series of grunts and punching noises.
Angel crawled to the front of the van and over the seat to scramble out the driver’s side door amid the sound of a body being slammed against the side of the vehicle with a sick thud and a bang. The echo of one gunshot filled the night air. She fell onto the pavement, slamming her knee. Pebbles jabbed into the heels of her hands, leaving a deep sting when she pushed herself to her feet in the start of a run.
She ran as fast as her feet would carry her despite the burning pain in her hips, knee, and back. Angel wanted to put as much distance as possible between herself and the scene. She didn’t think twice about leaving her car behind; the blood pounding in her ears and the throp, throp, throp of her feet on the pavement grew louder as the sounds of the fight diminished behind her.
“Dr. Hemming!” Angel heard the faint sound of her name in the distance as she turned down a dark residential street and glanced over her shoulder to see if she was being followed.
She ran until her sides hurt, zigzagging through the backyards of the houses and dark side streets. She finally slowed her pace and leaned against a tree, placing her hands on her knees as she struggled to regain her breath. Her hair had worked its way out of the ponytail and hung in damp tendrils around her face, and her lungs ached in angry protest as she pulled in oxygen with heavy pants.
Her mind reeled. She knew the first two men were Swanson’s hired henchmen but wasn’t sure about the other two. Maybe they were just passersby and had come to her aid when they heard her screams, but Angel didn’t consider that in her haste. She was too uncertain to stay and watch the scene play out, instinct telling her to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible. She straightened up, thankful she was in casual attire and Adidas. By some miracle, her purse was still looped over her arm.
She opened it to inspect the contents. Her original cell phone was gone, and she’d left her keys in the ignition. She still had the phone Alex gave her and her wallet. Angel’s eyes closed in relief. Thank God.
Angel didn’t feel safe going back to her condo; someone would probably be waiting. It was too obvious that was where she would go, and Swanson would be furious that his plan was foiled.
“Stupid bastard! I fucking hate you,” she murmured softly, thinking how little effect she had on the outcome of the case; it wasn’t even going to make it to court. She knew Swanson’s grudge was personal now. He wanted to prove a point.
Angel held her hand out in front of her and felt her whole body begin to shake as the adrenaline wore off. Her hip ached and she was sure in a few hours she’d find bruises on her body from landing in the van and the fingers biting into her tender flesh.
It was pitch black, the trees blocking any moonlight, as she continued to rummage through the contents of her purse. She walked beneath a streetlight, just as her hands closed around a different set of keys.
* * *
Angel peeled her clothes off in the guest bathroom, the only light coming from a candle on the granite vanity. The décor was simple, but the colors were obscured by the golden light and flickering shadows. She was exhausted and frightened, the soreness she knew she’d feel in a few hours had yet to take hold.
Her jacket was left in the backseat of her mangled Lexus, and the shower’s steaming surge lessened the chill on her skin. It was har
d to know what damage had been done to the car after she ran away, but the light of day would tell. There wasn’t anything she could do about it now other than what she’d done. She called the police, and they told her she’d have to file a report the following day, but that a patrolman would go to the scene, and her car would be towed to the impound lot until she could pick it up.
She drew in a shaky breath, doubting her recent decisions as she pulled her hair down and found a brush in the drawer. As she pulled it through the long, silky strands, her heart was heavy, yet it beat in frantic anticipation. Angel was drawn to Alex like the moon pulled the tide; it was the most natural thing in the world to end up here. Like she had no conscious choice; she didn’t even remember telling the cab driver the address a half an hour earlier.
She’d been unsure if Alex would even be there, and she still didn’t know. Part of her hoped he wouldn’t be, and the other part needed to feel his arms wrapped around her because it was the only way she’d be sure either of them was safe. Water Tower had armed security and would be harder to penetrate. It had been pure luck that the security codes were the same as his estate. But what if he wasn’t alone?
Her heart fell as the realization hit her; she wasn’t prepared for that possibility. He might be angry, and he’d probably tell her to get the hell out. She was feeling fragile, and her eyes flooded with tears as her throat began to throb.
Somehow, she’d managed to enter and shower without detection. The evening had been surreal, like some scene from a low-budget horror flick, and she was shaken. If it weren’t for her aches and pains and the rips in her shirt, she could’ve sworn it was a nightmare.
Her hands paused midway on their way to pick up her discarded clothing, and soon, her towel joined them on the Italian marble floor.
She leaned on her hands and bowed her head in defeat. She should leave. If she wanted to keep the carefully constructed, yet delicate, walls in place, she needed to leave now. But she needed the comfort of his touch, to smell his skin, to hear him breathe. Even if, to her horror, he was in bed with someone else, at least she’d know he was okay.
Angel swallowed and pushed open the door, and the contrast between the steam-filled bathroom and the cool air of the rest of the apartment caused her nipples to pucker as the chill skittered over her skin. Her feet were almost silent as they sank into the plush carpet of the hallway. As she drew closer to his bedroom door, she heard a low moan and she froze, her hands clenching in protest.
Please, God, no, she prayed in her thoughts. Her conscious mind knew she had no claim on him, but her heart screamed in protest. She padded closer, her feet carrying her forward of their own volition, and her heart tightened painfully.
“Mmmmm… ” Alex murmured. The sound of his voice begged her to push the door open further. The smooth mahogany gave way beneath her trembling fingertips to reveal a lone figure sprawled face down on the bed.
Angel’s breath left her lungs in a grateful rush as she leaned on the door frame, hands reaching out to take her weight. Relief washed through her. He was here and he was alone. God help her, that fact was just as important.
The sheet was falling low on his waist, clinging precariously to the curve of his butt, the strong expanse of his shoulders presented to her below the dark hair. It looked longer than she remembered, and she stood there, willing him to turn so she could see the lines of his face. Her lips parted to call his name, but he stopped her by calling hers first.
“Angel, don’t do this.”
She gasped softly and moved to the side of the bed, crawling gently onto it to kneel beside him, her rear resting on her feet. His scent surrounded her, a mixture of musky cologne and Alex. The skin, molded over the strong contours of his back, fascinated her. She wanted to touch, to feel the silken texture beneath her fingers, to run her nose down his spine, to taste the salty tang on her tongue.
Angel was falling apart, her weakness overwhelming her. Earlier, she’d fought ruthlessly, but now, she had no fight left. With Alex, she wanted to surrender. The truth of it was undeniable.
“What am I doing?” she asked softly, reaching out to smooth her hand over the back of his head and down the strong muscles of his back. He was warm, a sharp contrast to her own skin, and the familiar electricity ran between his flesh and hers—tangible and alive.
Alex shifted, turning his head toward her. He was still sleeping, his features soft in the dark blue glow of night. “You deny us. You left me.”
“Oh, Alex.” Angel’s heart swelled to the point of bursting. “That seems impossible,” she whispered, continuing to rub his back and then gently kneading his shoulder and the back of his neck.
“That feels so good. Your hands on me.”
“I miss touching you.” The words ripped from her, her voice trembling.
Suddenly, Alex turned, his hand closing around her forearm and pulling her forward and closer until her face was inches from his.
“Am I dreaming?” His green eyes looked black, but glittered in the darkness. “Angel?”
Angel nodded, unsure what else to do. Maybe she could get away with being here if he believed she wasn’t real. “Do you dream of me often?”
“Every time I close my eyes.” He cupped her face, his big hand easily reaching around the back of her head to tangle in her long hair, his thumb brushing her chin. “But this time, you feel so real. I want you to be real.”
She leaned into his touch, rubbing her face into his hand, and the harshness of the day melted into nothingness. Her eyes burned as emotions threatened to overflow. This man was the only thing that mattered, and she would allow herself to get lost in him, even if only for an hour or two. “Then don’t wake up.”
“Your voice is different.”
She flushed. The screaming and the running had left its effect. Her throat felt sore, but in the spontaneity of the moment, she hadn’t even noticed. “Shhhh…” Angel murmured. Her hand smoothed along the strong line of his jaw; it was lined with stubble that poked gently at her fingertips. “Just, shhh…”
Alex pulled her forward, his lips finding hers. The kiss was gentle, yet hungry and urgent, his other hand running down her body, over her hip and to her thigh, finding her naked. He wasn’t surprised. She was always like this in his dreams.
Angel did her best not to wince when his hands came across some of the tender flesh now marred by bruises. She couldn’t let him know she was hurting or he’d wake up for sure.
He pulled her down beside him, shifted until she was half beneath him, when his mouth reluctantly pulled from hers, but still hovering, to glide like hot silk over her cheek and down the side of her neck. He inhaled the scent of his own shampoo, his nose finding the subtle dampness at her hairline as his hands continued to explore her willing body. “Your skin is like velvet.”
“Touch me,” she begged in a whisper. “Kiss me, Alex.”
Alex loomed over her, his eyes searching her face. She seemed vulnerable, aching, needy, and demanding all at once. “These last two weeks have been torture. I’ve been so worried.”
The frown on his face and the look in his eyes made her heart ache. “So have I.”
“I want to look at you.” He had a hard time articulating exactly what he wanted, but he knew that he wanted something from this woman, dream or no, that he’d never wanted. “I want…”
Her forehead leaned into his jaw and her hands slid up his chest over his shoulders to thread through his hair. He groaned when her fingers tugged gently, urging his head down to hers. Angel’s chin lifted and she licked at his top lip, then pulled his bottom one between both of hers and let her teeth tug on it gently. The heat pooling in her body wouldn’t be denied; the familiar ache that settled in the pit of her stomach and around her heart whenever she was with him grew more intense. She didn’t care if she had to beg. “What? This is your dream. Anything you want, it’s yours.”
His heart beat furiously under the fingers of her hand, and his full erection throbbed and puls
ed against her thigh, yet he was hesitant, studying the apparition before him.
“I don’t want anything between us, dream or not, Angel.” His hand flattened out on the smooth plane of her belly and moved lower, his fingers parting her flesh, seeking the warmth between her legs as his mouth traced the swell of her breast. She arched her back as her breath left her. God, she loved his mouth on her, his fingers as they pushed inside her, seeking the place he knew would drive her wild. She understood what he was asking. But the last time, they hadn’t used protection in the heat of that moment either. Angel hadn’t been concerned because she was on the pill. But apparently, Alex was.
“I’m safe, Alex. We’re safe.”
“Then you trust me?” he asked softly, his lips finally closing around her nipple and sucking gently as his fingers worked in and out of her body, his thumb pressing against her most sensitive flesh with a purposeful rhythm. He enjoyed the panting breaths and soft mewling moans, her hips gyrating as her body begged for his.
“With everything I have,” she breathed.
“Then, I want to make love to you. Slow, languid love. I never want this to end.”
Angel’s heart felt as if it would fly from her chest; her hands roamed lovingly over the smooth skin, hard with the strength lying beneath it. Her eyes squeezed shut, forcing the moisture to leak from the corners as her mouth found purchase against his bicep. “Oh, God, Alex,” she cried even as her body came around his fingers. “Uhhh, Uhhh!”
Alex’s mouth skimmed her skin, tasting the soft, salty sheen on her shoulder as he rolled her beneath him. The aftershocks of her orgasm were still rocking through her when she felt his hardness push against her, his pelvis rocking into hers, seeking entrance. Both of his large hands closed around the sides of her face. He was moving gently, his arms holding his weight, his mouth taking hers in a hungry kiss.