“Yeah, but I saw her, Cary. Maybe not well enough to identify her—except her eyes—but I saw the gun, and I know something pushed me down.”
“Something?”
“Promise you won’t think I’ve lost it?”
“I would never think that, love.”
“Well, something tried to push me out of the line of fire. The reason I’m saying ‘something’ is that it didn’t seem human.”
“Were you drinking, Lauren?”
“No! I’m trying to tell you something, and you . . . forget it.”
Cary looked remorseful. “Sorry, love, but it’s a little bizarre hearing something like that from you.”
“Well, imagine what I feel like. I’m not Mom, you know.”
“I never said you were.”
“Clearly, it was something. Whatever it was, I think I owe it my life.”
He sighed. “I do believe in the supernatural, Lauren. I also believe that when someone is faced with fear, the mind and eyes can play tricks.”
“You think I made it up?”
“I’m not saying that, Lauren. The human mind is a powerful tool, and it can protect when needed. Love, you were rightfully scared. You saw a gun, and your body immediately reacted. It’s normal to not remember or see things properly.”
“You don’t believe what I saw was real.”
“Didn’t say that, love. I’ve heard of a lot stranger things happening. And that thing you thought you saw, well, people do believe in guardians.”
Out of nowhere, a loud rumble of thunder rattled the windows. Oddly, the sky was clear when we were driving earlier.
“You’re thinking it could have been, like, a guardian angel?”
Cary appeared a little shaken. “Um . . . something like that.”
“You think they exist?”
He deliberated for a moment. “Does it matter what I think, Lauren? As long as you know what you believe. Weird, unexplainable things happen here all the time.”
“You’re right about that. Louisiana, for some reason, has some strange goings-on.” I smiled. “Thanks, for not making me feel . . . crazy.”
As we finished our meal, Cary still seemed put out about something.
“Was the party worth it?” he asked, but wouldn’t meet my eyes. It wasn’t an off-limit question, though it was a loaded one, since for some reason he sounded pissed.
I didn’t have to guess why. When I initially explained Jackson’s position, and why he didn’t stay with me, I saw red in Cary’s eyes. That was the first time I saw him lose his temper that way, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t thrilling. Cary prided himself on his ability to stay calm; though, lately, that seemed to be more difficult for him.
“The party was . . . interesting,” I answered back, “to say the least.”
“Interesting how?”
“Well, I didn’t realize there would be that many people. It was nothing I had ever experienced. The place, costumes, actions of the attendees; it was insane from the moment we arrived until the end. I never truly understood what you were talking about regarding the red carpet experience until tonight. That was very overwhelming.”
“It takes time to get used to it, all the mayhem.” His smile never fully formed. He tried, though something continued to bother him.
“I don’t think I’ll ever have to get used to that, Cary. That place was over the top and crazy packed.”
“You would think they would have done a better job with security.”
“Cary . . .”
“I just don’t bloody understand why security wasn’t around, and why you were left alone!”
“Cary, that girl wasn’t part of the party. Look, I can’t explain any other way why Jackson wasn’t with me. I happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.”
He glared a bit longer then took a few deep breaths. “Sorry, please continue.”
“Everyone was ridiculously beautiful.” I shrugged with a grin. “I originally thought there must’ve been a ‘cover girl’ prerequisite to attend.”
Cary scowled and huffed.
“The vibe was eccentric. Even though it was a vampire ball, it felt off. I’ve seen a lot, but tonight, shocked even me. I didn’t think much more could.”
“Shocked you how?” he asked, clearing our plates.
“It was as though I stepped into Hell. Not suffering Hell with fire, more like pleasure Hell, before the fire. I know this is going to sound weird, but my body and mind were at war the whole time I was there. My mind was saying, leave as fast as you can, and my body urged me to stay. Oh, and there were drugs, as if you couldn’t smell it on my dress.”
No reaction, but Cary kept staring at me.
“And my body was feeling things that were . . . hmmm . . .”
“How?” His eyebrow rose.
“Well, I wasn’t myself. My body had a heightened sense of feelings, reactions to what was going on around me.” I surprised myself with that one. The whole place was erotic, but how could I tell Cary that with a straight face.
He started rubbing his thumb back and forth over his bottom lip. If he only knew how that affected a girl. All I could do was watch at his mouth.
“Where was Jackson during these . . . heightened senses?”
“I told you he was with me for a few minutes. Blake and Zara kept me company most of the time.”
“Is that why you didn’t call Jackson?”
It almost sounded as if Cary didn’t want to be bothered with me.
“What?” I asked, surprised. “I-I was, but I wanted . . . I shouldn’t have called you. Sorry.”
Cary looked confused before realization came. “Lauren, no, love. I’m glad you called me. I will always be here for you. I’m bothered that Jackson and Blake were too self-absorbed to make sure you were safe.”
A sudden dip in the temperature caused my body to shiver. “You need to rest, Lauren.”
“Not yet.” I didn’t want to dream, fearing what waited. “Please, Cary, I-I don’t want to be alone.”
“Come, lie down on the lounger.” He sat down first, and opened his arms wide for me to climb into them. He wrapped me in a blanket.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I want to.” His voice was soft.
When I laid my head on his chest and looked into his blue eyes, I felt safe. He wrapped his arms and the blanket around me tighter. The tension in my body finally released, my breathing slowly matching his.
Hundreds—no, thousands—of women would give up their souls to trade places with me. Cary was more than one of the sexiest men alive; he had truly earned the title. He was caring, gentle, loving, but also overprotective and incredibly sexy when he was angry. There was so much to him.
I chuckled, and he looked down inquisitively. “What are you thinking, love?”
I watched as the curves of muscles in his arms flexed around me. “I was thinking how lucky I was.” My thoughts added, to be alive and here with you like this.
I should’ve been upset, weeping, and having a nervous breakdown—not in Cary’s arms, calm and at peace.
“You are a very lucky lady. If anything would’ve happened . . .”
I pulled myself up to face him. “I’m here. Safe.”
Our faces were inches apart, and our bodies pressed firmly together. My chest rose and fell with every rapid breath he took.
The eyes were truly the windows to a person’s soul. Mine reflected in his as we mirrored each other’s gaze. Torn, conflicted, but at the same time wanting. I dropped my head back down to his chest, as I heard and felt him exhale a deep breath.
“We were lucky. Angels were watching over you tonight, Lauren.”
“Yes, they were,” I mumbled into his chest.
Cary leaned in and kissed my forehead. An electric current pulsed through me as his lips lingered. For one split second, I thought he felt it, too.
“You need to sleep, love. Do I need to carry you?”
I heard the humo
r in his voice. “Yes. Carry me,” I said, in my best sultry voice.
His mouth parted and his lips curled up on the side.
“I can walk.” I started to get up.
With one quick sweep of his strong arms, he launched us off the lounger. I gasped as he threw my body over his shoulder and started to walk toward the bedroom. We were halfway to the room before I caught my breath.
How could he do that?
He was strong and very pleased with himself. My heart raced, and I couldn’t stop giggling. I felt a thrill, until the pain brought me back to reality. “You think it’s funny to scare me half to death. You forgot I have stitches!”
“Bloody! I wasn’t thinking! Are you all right?” He carefully set me down.
“The pain isn’t that bad,” I lied, and bent over slightly.
He lifted up my shirt to examine the stitches—not realizing he was cupping my breast.
“I-I can do that.”
He froze. His fingers twitched, and his face was priceless as he started mumbling incoherent words.
I placed my hand over his. “It’s okay.”
Cary lowered his hand, and we walked the rest of the way.
He pulled back the bed covers and helped me in.
“I’m . . .” He tried to speak.
“It’s fine, Cary.” I gave him a stern look.
“Okay.” He sighed as he fluffed the numerous pillows behind my head.
“I’m good. Hey. Stop fussing.” I grabbed his hand. “I owe you a lot. How will I ever repay you?”
“You don’t. That’s what friends are for.” He kissed my forehead again, leaving me to my swirling thoughts.
Rest did not come easy. My mind went over every moment of that horrible day. I lay in bed for a while, trying to calm myself. Knowing Cary was close by helped.
My thoughts kept drifting to Cary. The warmth of his body pressed to mine. How it felt being in his arms, having him close, our heartbeats moving in sync. Feeling his breath in my hair, his tender kisses on my skin. The sensation of his fingertips as they caressed my side—my breast.
I wanted to be back on that couch, back in his arms, to have him hold me. Until everything faded away.
A dark figure stalked toward me as her eyes tore into mine. I wanted to look away, act as if it were nothing, but I couldn’t. Her steps increased as her expression darkened. I tried to move, but remained frozen. My breath sped up as I willed myself not to panic. I forced myself to take a step, but it was too late. I heard the sound, felt the pain, as something pushed me to the ground.
Faces of my family and friends rapidly flashed across my mind. I heard faint screams around me as each face appeared. Except, one was constant: Cary’s face. His smile. The burning in his eyes. The blush in his cheeks. The thought of never seeing him again . . .
I woke up sweaty and disoriented. It took a moment to steady my breath. It was only a dream. If only that were true.
As I walked toward the bathroom, I heard Cary yelling. “There’s no excuse! You should’ve been quicker.”
“Cary, Joel did everything he could. They distracted him,” a female voice chimed in.
“That’s not good enough!”
“That’s not fair, Cary,” she said.
“Carmen. Stay out of it. She should’ve never been anywhere near her!” Cary yelled.
“I would never let anything happen to her, man.”
“I’m curious, mate. How did she get shot then? She could have died, Joel!”
“You know that wasn’t going to happen. I knew they were just trying to scare her.”
“Scaring is a warning, a threat, not a bullet, Joel!”
“Cary, calm down,” the woman, Carmen, begged.
“We don’t know how far they’re going to take this.” Cary sounded exasperated.
“I thought they were off limits,” she stated.
“Does it look as though they’re off limits, Carmen? Does she bloody look off limits to you?”
“Cary, what were we supposed to do? They obviously got the go-ahead.”
“Cover her, Joel! He probably figured we could handle it.”
“Cary, I handled it!” Joel said, frustrated.
“How, exactly? Did you protect her, mate?”
“Enough! This is not helping anyone. She’s going to hear us. If you two guys are going to keep this up, do it quietly.” Carmen lowered her voice.
“Cary, look, I know how much they mean to you . . . she means to you. You have to understand. They did everything they could to get at her,” Joel said.
“I know. I don’t understand why I’m surprised. I was an idiot to think he would keep her safe. If I knew sooner, I would’ve been there.”
“None of us were expecting that. You can cover my back next time, man.”
“There bloody well not be a next time!”
I inched open the door and saw the woman. I never wanted to know about Cary’s love life—even though I would see him with different women on magazine covers. I never asked, and I didn’t talk about mine. The only reason he knew about Jackson was because of Blake.
Cary grew louder, more intense. I’d never heard him that angry. He pounded on the kitchen counter. His voice was going in and out as if he were pacing. The woman tried to diffuse the situation, but was unsuccessful. I was about to walk out there, but Cary suddenly calmed down.
A lot of questions started flooding my thoughts. Who could have been killed? And why did they need protection? How would Cary know about a shooting before it happened? And who was the girl, because it sounded a lot like me?
After a moment, I remembered the guy Cary was yelling at. Joel—he was one of his good friends. I met him a couple times when they came over to visit Blake. Then a light turned on in my head; I remembered Carmen. I couldn’t explain why a surge of relief fell over me, but Carmen was simply a friend.
They were silent, and I shut the door as quietly as I could. My mind started to decipher everything I heard—and again, I wondered why it sounded as though he were talking about me. But, Cary couldn’t have known I would be attacked.
You know what you heard, Lauren.
I misheard, misunderstood. Cary couldn’t have anything to do with the shooting. My stomach rumbled. I was going to be sick. Too late, and I ran to the bathroom.
A much-needed shower helped me clear my head. My side was very sore. The pain medication wore off, and I was anxious to take more. I’d done everything not to lie on my wound, but evidently, I’d failed. When I came out of the bathroom, I found new clothes on a fully made bed. I put them on and headed for the kitchen.
“Did you sleep well?” Cary asked, as I entered.
“As well as I could. The bed is great. It felt like sleeping on top of clouds. Hey, thanks for the clothes. How—”
“Sabrina. She went out this morning and bought them. Are they the right size?”
“They’re fine. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I didn’t think you wanted to lounge around in a torn evening dress, but if you prefer—”
“That was considerate.”
“I cooked. Are you hungry?”
“You didn’t have to do that either. I could have—”
“You’re my guest.”
“An uninvited guest.”
“You’re always welcomed, love.”
I climbed onto the barstool. When he placed a glass of prune juice in front of me, I scrunched my nose in disgust.
“Drink. You need it to help with the medicine you’re taking. The tea will be up in a minute. Cream and sugar?”
“Please. You snooped and read about my medication?”
“Aye. Surprised?”
I rolled my eyes. “Where are your friends?”
He stopped what he was doing and looked at me carefully.
“Your friends? I heard them this morning.”
He turned, grabbed a plate with eggs, ham, and fruit, and placed it in front of me. “You heard?”
“Yes.
” How could I have not with him yelling?
“What did you hear?”
“Mostly you. I’ve never heard you so angry.”
He slowly pronounced every syllable. “What did you hear, Lauren?”
“Um . . . something about a girl needing protection, and a shooting. It sounded as if you were talking about me.”
He stood, expressionless. “You misunderstood.”
“Don’t think so. I know you were upset.”
“We were speaking about an incident that happened with one of Joel’s clients. Business stuff.”
“Huh. Then why were you upset?”
“She’s a very important client. I was upset at myself because I felt I could have done more. I gave Joel the referral.”
“Who was shooting at her?”
“What?”
“I heard something about a shooting.”
“Joel was responsible for her security team while she was here. Lauren, please eat.”
I assumed it had to do with some celebrity.
“Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. Eat.”
“Do I know her?”
“Lauren!”
“Don’t get shouty at me.” I glared at him as I forked a piece of ham. “It’s strange, what I heard. Very similar to what happened to me.” I stared at him, but nothing. “So, where are your friends?”
“They stepped out for a bit. They’ll be back.”
“Good. I haven’t seen Joel for a while.”
“You really were listening.”
“I told you, your loud mouth woke me up.”
“Oh, that saucy mouth of yours.”
“You love it.” I smiled wide.
He shook his head and shifted topics. “Later, today, you’ll need to fill out your statement with the coppers.”
“Coppers?” I giggled.
“Cops. I do my best.”
He did. He slipped a bit with words, but he tried. Cary’s father, Victor, was far better at mastering American dialogue. Sometimes, Cary forgot what country he was in.
“Do I have to go see the coppers right away?” I teased.
“I was going with you, if that’s all right?”
“I couldn’t do it without you.”
“Right. The way you’re handling all this is amazing.”
The Devil has a British Accent: Book One: Jackson (White Carpet #1) Page 13