by Kaylee, Katy
Rape. Just thinking about the word gave me the chills, and I wondered if that had been Angel’s intention all along. He’d said just dancing, but what if he’d only done that to protect himself legally?
Or what if he’d only said that to make sure that I’d come along willingly?
“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” the other cop said. He looked tough, but awkward, and I wondered if he’d seen this kind of thing before. He seemed nice enough, but he was no Harrison, and I was feeling far too shy to speak to him.
I wasn’t scared anymore, though. Not now, not that Harrison had saved me once again from a horrible fate. Taking a deep, shaky breath, I pulled the sheet tighter around my body and moved into the living room so that I could see what was going on. I didn’t even know how Harrison figured out where I was, or what I was doing, but I was so deeply relieved that he saved me that I felt like crying. The urge to throw myself into his arms was strong, but I resisted as I watched from a distance.
Clearly, there was more to his presence at the club than dating Madison. I felt like an idiot now – how could I truly have believed that he wanted her, that he preferred her to me?
Just because he doesn’t want her doesn’t mean he wants you, I thought.
But there had been more to Harrison’s actions – there had to have been, right?
That’s what I so badly wanted to believe.
“I’ve been undercover at your club for months,” Harrison told Angel. “I know you’re running drugs.”
Angel sneered at him.
“And we’ve got enough evidence to take down the club,” Harrison continued. “And furthermore, you’re going to help us do it.”
“Why the fuck would I do something like that?” Angel spat.
Harrison smiled, but it wasn’t the friendly smile I was used to seeing. It was cold, and almost frightening.
“Because,” Harrison continued. “If you don’t, I’ll put word out on the street that you’re a narc, and your partners can have their way with you.” He paused for a moment. “You know what they do to narcs, right?”
“It won’t make any fuckin’ difference,” Angel sneered. “Everyone’s going to know that I’m a narc when the cops start banging on their doors.”
“That’s true,” Harrison countered. “But then they’ll be in prison, not out on the streets looking for you.”
Angel didn’t say anything else, and Harrison crossed his arms over that brawny chest of his that I loved so much.
“Cuff him,” Harrison called to Steve.
“What? The fuck, why?” Angel asked, incredulous. “This is a party. Everyone came of their own volition.”
Harrison pointed at the coffee table, which was littered with the cocaine that Angel had brought.
“Possession, for one,” Harrison said. “Maybe even enough to distribute. What do you think, Steve?”
Angel scowled, but stayed silent.
“And pandering,” Harrison said. “And money laundering, which I know the club has been doing.” He smiled again, that evil grin that almost frightened me.
“And we’ll make sure our boys downtown give you all the ... special treatment that you deserve,” Steve said, joining Harrison and smirking down at Angel.
For the first time since I’d met him, I saw fear flash across Angel’s face. He looked like he was watching his life disappear before his own eyes, before he sighed and bowed his head.
“You feel like talking now?” Harrison asked, almost teasingly.
Angel looked up and nodded slowly.
“Good,” Harrison said.
“I’ll take it over from here,” Steve said. “You want to take her home?” He nodded at me, and in that moment I wondered how much Harrison’s partner knew about his relationship with me.
Harrison put his coat over me and draped an arm over my shoulders, leading me out of the hotel through the back entrance. I wanted to ask what was going to happen to everyone, to Livvie and the other stripper from the club, to the Texan who had nearly raped me. But I pushed those thoughts out of my head. Now that I was with Harrison, I was safe and nothing bad was going to happen to me. I felt content and relaxed despite the horrible evening I’d endured.
It had been less than an hour since Harrison had come to rescue me, and it already seemed like the events of the evening had happened years ago. As Harrison put me in his car (he even fastened my seatbelt for me, which I had to admit that I liked), I closed my eyes and yawned.
When he first rushed into the bedroom, I’d felt relief, of course. It had cooled all over my body like a wave of adrenaline. But when that had faded, I’d felt anxious. Surely, Harrison was going to be really angry with me for getting myself into that situation.
But if he was, he didn’t say anything about it. He didn’t yell, or scream, or even talk. He just drove, with a muscle ticking away in his jaw and his hands clenching the steering wheel.
“Do you need to go to the hospital?” Harrison asked. The implication in his voice made me wince: he was obviously asking if I needed a rape kit.
I shook my head. “No,” I said softly. Clearing my throat, I added: “I think a warm bath would probably just be the best thing.”
Harrison nodded.
“I’m sorry for what happened,” Harrison said, and for a moment I wasn’t sure he was talking about the fiasco in the hotel or the words we’d had between us.
There was emotion in his voice, which surprised me. I’d seen emotion on his face before, but never heard it in his voice ... at least, not for years.
“You can stay with me and Hollie for as long as you want,” Harrison continued. He swallowed, still staring out the windshield at the dark Chicago night.
“Thank you.”
“And I promise, I’ll keep my hands to myself,” Harrison said.
There was a beat, and I wondered what he wanted me to say. I was so filled with emotion and confusion and exhaustion that I didn’t know what to say. My body was sore and shaking from almost being attacked.
The main thing I felt was relief. I was relieved that I wouldn’t have to go back to stripping and find my own way in the world ... at least, not for now.
And while I was sad that we wouldn’t be continuing our relationship, at least I finally had proof that Harrison cared about me.
17
Harrison – One Month Later
Monday
A month later, and it still felt like the events that happened at the Luxury Towers hotel were lingering everywhere. Walking around Paris on eggshells wasn’t easy, but I’d done it for her own sake. When I told her that she could still stay at my house, she seemed so relieved that I was immediately glad that I’d done it.
She was so shaken up after what happened, and hell, who wouldn’t have been? I was a veteran cop and even I had been freaked out. That had passed, at least, but now I was left to wonder what effect the incident had had on Paris, and her mental health. Mental health was hugely important to her – she was studying to be a counselor, after all – and I found myself wanting to talk to her, wanting to tell her that it wasn’t healthy to keep things bottled up.
But what right did I have to do that? I had been a cop for years, and then a detective. We weren’t exactly a talkative bunch when it came to our mental state. Even Steve, my partner, and I didn’t really discuss our personal lives beyond what was necessary in the job.
He’d only known about Krista leaving me when the divorce had been finalized.
The thought that someone would hurt Paris like that still filled me with rage, a deep kind of rage that nothing could cure. Normally, in the past, when things like this had upset me, I’d just gone to the gym and worked out until my body was spent and I was dripping in sweat. I was going a lot now, several times per week, and it wasn’t doing shit. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her beautiful, naked body splayed out on the bed. Saw the fear and hurt in her eyes as I’d ripped that jerk off of her loveliness. Saw her curvy frame shaking with panic after I’d wrapped he
r in a sheet.
Clearly, I had some issues of my own to work on before I could bring anything up with Paris. The bruise on her cheekbone had healed, and her lips looked as pouty and perfect forever, but I sensed that she was carrying around a lot of trauma from what had happened. And worst of all, I was still dying to know just what she’d been doing in such a seedy situation in the first place.
Was she really that desperate for money? What the hell was going on, exactly?
One night, Hollie and I were alone in the kitchen. Paris was upstairs, taking a nap, and I got up and poured two glasses of wine.
Hollie gave me a strange look. “Wine, Dad?” She asked skeptically. “I don’t think I’ve seen you drink wine since Mom left—I mean, um, in years,” she said, flushing hard.
“It’s okay,” I told her. I wouldn’t have admitted this to Hollie, but now, Krista was the furthest thing from my mind. “I just realized that we haven’t talked in a while.”
Hollie still looked skeptical, but she nodded and took a sip. Giving me a guilty look, she said: “I know I haven’t been home much.”
“Neither have I,” I replied. It was true – just the gym alone had been keeping me out of the house, but work was ramping up. Steve and I were getting closer to wrapping up all of Angel’s dealers and thugs, and I was often spending long nights at the office, leaving only when the sky was tinged with the first light of morning.
“Hollie,” I said, clearing my throat and taking a sip of wine. “Do you know what’s going on with Paris?”
Hollie was quiet for a long time. “No,” she said finally. “I mean, I’ve asked. I feel like a really bad friend. We’ve barely talked or hung out this summer, and we’re living under the same roof.” She bit her lip and looked down at her lap. “Why? Did she say anything to you?”
I shook my head. That night, when I’d brought Paris home, Hollie had thankfully been asleep. Paris had gone upstairs and taken a bath – the next day, she told Hollie that I’d given her a ride home because her car had broken down. We’d come up with a story – there had been an accident at Paris’s job, and she was on leave.
I hated lying to Hollie, but right now it was for the best.
Still, I wasn’t sure that my perceptive daughter hadn’t picked up on anything more sinister than that.
“Why are you asking me?” Hollie asked.
Shit, I thought. So much for being subtle.
“Oh, no reason, really,” I said. “It’s just she seems really quiet and down lately.”
“She does,” Hollie said. She bit her lip. “Maybe she’s feeling awkward because she’s been staying here for so long. I guess staying in another person’s house can make you feel kind of weird.” Draining the rest of her wine, she carried her glass over to the sink and washed it out. Hollie walked back over to me, dipped down and kissed me on the cheek.
“I’m going out,” she said, looking slightly guilty. “Maybe that’s why Paris is so unhappy. Maybe she’s jealous.”
I shrugged awkwardly.
“I should spend more time with her,” Hollie added. Checking her watch, she cursed under her breath. “I really need to go, Dad,” she said. “I’ll see you later,” she added.
Then, she left, leaving me alone with my thoughts in the kitchen and Paris sleeping in the guest room overhead. It was strange – I’d been keeping my distance, but avoiding Paris entirely had proven impossible.
I got up from the table and put my wine glass in the sink next to Hollie’s. Just as I was reaching for the soap, the glass slipped from my wet hand and shattered in the sink.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath. The shards of glass spilled all over the sink and I scooped them up as carefully as I could. The glasses had been a gift from someone when Krista and I had gotten married, and I felt strangely empty that this was yet another sign of life continuing without her.
“Harrison? Is everything okay?”
I turned and saw Paris standing in the doorway. She was wearing a loose-fitting t-shirt and yoga pants, but she still looked spectacular. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and yawned, striding into the kitchen and sitting down at the table.
“Yeah, it’s nothing,” I told her. “I just broke a glass. It’s nothing, really.”
Paris frowned. “Don’t cut yourself,” she said, watching over me as I gathered the shards of glass and dumped them into the trash.
“It’s late,” I told her. “You should probably go back to bed.”
A hint of a smile spread over Paris’s face. “I can’t,” she complained. “I was so dumb – I laid down, just for a couple of minutes, and I fell asleep. Now I don’t think I’m going to be able to go back to bed for hours.”
I should have been tired, but after working so many long nights, I’d become a total night owl. Paris and I had spent a few evenings together in the last month, completely platonic, of course, and I’d started teaching her card games in an attempt to keep the tension at bay.
“You want to play cards?” Paris asked.
I nodded. “Sure.” For a moment, I wondered if I should offer her some wine – there was still half of the bottle left. But I didn’t want her reading into anything, and I kept my mouth shut as I took the cards and poker chips from the sideboard and walked over to her.
“Poker?” I asked her.
“Sure,” Paris said, but she seemed distracted to me.
She’s probably just tired, I told myself. It’s always disorienting waking up when it’s dark and you’re wide awake.
I shuffled and dealt the cards, furrowing my brow as Paris picked up her hand. She was clearly distracted, staring down at her hands or the table and avoiding my gaze.
“Let’s go with aces and deuces for wild cards,” I said.
Paris nodded.
“Ante?” I reminded her.
“Oh, sorry,” Paris said. She put a green chip down on the table and stared at her hand. I matched it, and she laid down a bet of another green chip.
“That rough?” I joked.
Paris shrugged. I met her bet, and then called.
“I don’t have anything,” Paris said, laying down a hand with an ace, two kings, a four, and a three.
“You have three kings,” I told her. “Remember? Aces are wild?”
“What?” Paris asked. She flushed and looked away. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I guess I’m a little more out of it than I thought.”
I didn’t know whether or not I should say anything. I’d thought that she was just distracted, but now I realized there could easily be something else going on.
After another hand, where Paris bet low and had a hand that could have beat me, I knew something else had to be going on. When I took the cards in my hands and prepared to shuffle, I looked up at her.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked her quietly.
“Nothing, really,” Paris said. She yawned. “I’m just tired. And stressed. I don’t know – oh, forget it. It’s really nothing to worry about.”
“I know there’s something on your mind,” I pressed. “I can tell, Paris. You’re ... well, you’re pretty transparent.”
Paris looked up at me and her lower lip began to quiver. She sniffled and took a deep breath.
“I lost my scholarship,” Paris said in a shaky voice. She began to cry, burying her face in her hands as she sobbed harder. “That’s ... that’s why I was stripping, because I need money to go back to school. If I don’t have the money, I can’t go, and, and –” She trailed off, hitching in a deep, shaky breath that made her whole body shiver.
“I didn’t want to let Hollie down,” Paris sobbed. “But I don’t think I’m cut out for college. I don’t think I’m cut out to be a counselor,” she said, crying harder. “I just don’t think I can do it, but I don’t know how to tell her, and I know she’s going to be really upset with me, and—”
“Shhh,” I told her, pulling her chair close to mine and pulling Paris into a hug. She sobbed against my chest, soaking my t-shirt with her tears, and I
wrapped my arms around her and stroked her hair. Her sadness was so real, so vulnerable, that it made my heart ache just listening to her.
“You don’t need to worry,” I told her as I stroked her hair. “Everything will work out. I promise.”
Paris lifted her head and looked at me with her eyes. God, those eyes. They were like the most beautiful emeralds, the purest green glass I’d ever seen.
Just looking at her made me forget myself, and before I knew it, I was kissing her.
Paris’s mouth was warm and her cheeks were soaked with hot tears as the kiss grew more intense. She flowed into my arms, kissing me back and moaning softly into my mouth as she wrapped her arms around my neck. Paris shifted closer, moving her weight into my lap and I instantly felt myself grow hard. I wanted her so bad – it was wrong, but being with Paris felt better than anything else that I’d ever experienced.
Groaning with lust, I scooped Paris into my arms and laid her down on the kitchen table, knocking over the poker chips and sending the cards fluttering to the floor. She arched her back, pressing her perfect tits against my chest. Through her thin shirt, I could feel that her nipples were hard, and I was dying to taste them, to suck them, to flick my tongue over them until she howled with pleasure.
The added taboo of being with Paris in a more public place – my kitchen, for god’s sake! – was an incredible turn-on. Excitement and lust raced through my body and my cock throbbed with the urgency of it.
“Oh, Harrison,” Paris moaned in my ear. She nibbled and sucked my earlobe, tasting me. Her hot breath tickled my ear and I shuddered, running my hands all over her perfect body and slipping them under her shirt.
“Do you want me as much as I want you?” I growled huskily.
“Yes,” Paris whispered. “I do.”
18
Paris – Monday
I couldn’t believe it was finally happening again. Harrison did still want me after all. His hard cock pressing into my abdomen and his roaming hands were proof of that, and I was determined to make the most of the hot lust that flowed like lava between us.