by Cynthia Eden
“What about the threat?” Phil called after him.
Clark glanced back at the lawyer’s question.
“Is my client in danger?”
Clark turned his stare on Duvato. “You want extra guards?”
Duvato smiled. “They’ll only get in my way.”
Right. Whatever. He motioned to the officer on the other side of the door. The guy hurried and had him out in seconds. Clark was striding down the long corridor when Duvato’s words finally sank in…
They’ll only get in my way.
Those words didn’t really make sense. Not unless…
Unless the bastard was planning something.
Clark stilled.
An escape attempt? Impossible. But…
Phil’s briefcase had spilled. Duvato’s hands had reached for that case. Had he grabbed some kind of weapon from it? Hell, to a desperate prisoner, even a pen could be a weapon. Jab it into your victim’s neck and—
“Guards!” Clark bellowed as he whirled back toward the interrogation area. “Guards—secure the prisoner! Secure him now!”
The officer who’d just let Clark out was already rushing inside that little room.
But the sinking feeling in Clark’s throat told him it was too late. He ran inside.
Blood. So much blood.
Phil was on the ground, twitching. The guard who’d led Duvato into interrogation was on the floor, too, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle, his body far too still.
Duvato was still leaning over Phil. The lawyer was alive—his chest shuddering and—
“Get away from him!” Clark bellowed.
The guard who’d rushed in right before Clark had frozen. The man’s weapon was out, and Clark knew the guy was seconds away from shooting Duvato.
Duvato’s right hand was fisted around what looked like—shit, it was—a bloody pen. A damn fountain pen. Clark looked down at Phil. The lawyer was shoving his fingers against the hole in his throat, a hole that still heavily pulsed blood.
“Told you…” Duvato said, “I don’t need protection. I can take care of myself .”
Shoot him. The words were on the tip of Clark’s tongue. He knew he was staring at evil. At evil that had to be stopped. Only…
Duvato dropped the pen. “I still want that deal, ADA. I’ve got plenty to stay to you about Ethan Barclay. Plenty.” He laughed and he put his blood-covered hands up as more guards swarmed into the room.
He just killed a man. An officer of the law. And he thinks I’ll still deal with him?
The world really would be better off with Daniel Duvato dead.
I should have given the fucking order.
***
When Sophie opened her eyes, Lex was beside her. His blond hair was mussed, tousled from her fingers, and his eyes were closed. He looked peaceful in sleep. But then, most people did. She was one of the few that nightmares always haunted.
Sunlight trickled through the curtains. Another day had come. But this was the first day she’d ever woken with a lover beside her. She didn’t usually let anyone sleep with her because Sophie was just always worried. Afraid that she might let the wrong words slip during the night.
Thanks to Ethan, she’d learned that she talked in her sleep.
The things she said in sleep could incriminate her.
Another reason not to let a lover get too close. But Lex was close. So close that his arm was wrapped around her stomach even then. So close that her hip touched him. So close that she felt totally protected by his warmth and strength.
So close that she knew it was time she slipped away. So Sophie pulled in a careful breath and she began to inch to the left side of the bed, the side that promised freedom. She was completely naked and that just made her feel even more vulnerable. She’d slip away, go find the bag of clothes that they’d picked up from her place the night before, and then she’d face him feeling far more normal. She would—
“I don’t want you to leave.”
His eyes opened. There was none of the drowsy confusion that should have been present. He just opened his eyes and focused completely on her.
Unnerving.
Dammit, sexy. Why did she find so much about him to be sexy? Was it because he’d saved her life—twice? And now she had some kind of hero issue going on with him?
“You’re even more beautiful first thing in the morning.”
Okay, so maybe he had woken confused. She was sure her hair was a crazy tangle. And any makeup that she’d had on the day before would be long gone.
But he was still staring right at her and he made her feel beautiful in that moment. Part of her wanted to smile at him. To roll back toward him and sink fully into his embrace.
But her world didn’t work like that. She’d given in to her need the night before. The day had dawned. “I need to get to work. I have clients who’ll be waiting to see me today.” Did she sound suitably in control?
In control. That was the role she always had to play. Even when she wanted to give up the mask, just for a little while.
Screw control.
She lifted his hand off her stomach. There were calluses on his fingers. She’d felt them when he caressed her last night. Those caresses had been so thorough. Inside and out.
She pretty much quivered thinking about some of them.
Lex definitely wasn’t a selfish lover. The guy was so sensual. So fierce. So wonderfully focused.
He was probably the best lover she’d ever had.
“Running?” Lex asked her as she rolled from the bed. Sophie pulled the sheet with her, wrapping it around her body.
“No, just slowly walking…heading to the bathroom and then to find my clothes.”
He sat up. Lex didn’t seem to care that he was completely naked. With the sunlight hitting him, she saw the scars on his chest. White ridges. Red lines. From his time in the military?
Lex watched her, his gaze unfathomable. “Still don’t trust me, do you?”
Not even a little bit. Well, maybe a little.
She turned and made her way to the bathroom. Her steps were a bit too fast for normal walking but being naked with Lex wasn’t a good idea. Because when she was naked, when he was naked…she wanted to jump him.
Instead, she shut the bathroom door. Then she locked it. When she looked in the mirror, she didn’t see her controlled image staring back at her. She saw a woman with eyes that were too big. Lips that were too red. Skin that was flushed.
She looked like she’d just had an amazing night.
She had.
And I didn’t worry about being alone in the dark. Because I wasn’t alone. I had Lex. I wasn’t afraid. I just felt. So much pleasure.
He rapped on the door and Sophie jumped. Her right hand slapped against the countertop even as her left kept the sheet from falling to a puddle at her feet.
“Sophie?” Lex called out. “I brought your bag in for you.”
Oh. That was nice. Thoughtful.
Not at all what a dangerous and wild lover would do.
Or was it? She’d never shared a morning after with the others so she wasn’t real sure what they would have done.
Sophie opened the door. Lex stood there, her bag gripped in his hand. He lifted his brows at her. “It was your step two, right? Get to the bathroom, then get your clothes.”
Her right hand grabbed for the bag. “Thank you.”
He didn’t move. “Sooner or later, I’ll get you to trust me.”
“Why?” She just didn’t understand. “I’m paying you for the job, so nothing else really…”
Her voice trailed away.
Uh, oh. She could tell by the way his oh-so-muscled shoulders had just stiffened that she’d screwed up.
“Don’t talk to me about payment.” A muscle flexed in his hard jaw. “What happened between us last night had nothing to do with payment. It had everything to do with desire. With the freaking uncontrollable desire that I feel for you.”
She had a death grip on her ba
g.
“And that you feel for me.” His glittering gaze held her stare.
I do feel that desire for you.
“Get dressed, Sophie. Feel safer when you have your clothes on.”
She, um, would.
“Then come find me. Because we’ve got a whole lot of talking to do.” He spun on his heel. Took a step forward.
The light hit his back then. The pure sunlight. It fell on that powerful expanse and showed her all of the marks that he carried. Old marks…scars. They were faint white lines now, and, during the night, when it had been so dark, she’d never seen those marks. She hadn’t felt them beneath her fingertips because they weren’t raised. They were flat, smooth now from time.
And there were so many of them. Dozens.
She forgot about holding her sheet. Forgot about keeping her perfect mask of control. Her bag—and the sheet—fell as she lunged after him. Her trembling fingers touched his back.
Beaten. He was beaten. She knew exactly how he’d gotten those marks that covered so much of his back. “Who?” Sophie asked, her voice coming out angry and hard. These marks were so old. Had he gotten them when he was a child?
Her father had never left scars on her, not on the outside, anyway. He’d just liked to make her bones snap. Liked to twist until her wrist popped. Punch until a rib cracked. He’d—
Lex had gone completely still at her touch. But now, his head turned and he looked back at her. Anger flashed on his face, but then, as he stared at her, shock rippled across his expression. “Sophie…”
He turned toward her, and she made a mindless growl of anger.
“Sophie.” He put his hand under her chin. “Are you crying for me?”
And she was. Sophie blinked, stunned to realize that her eyes had filled with tears. Those tears slid down her cheeks, cooling the flushed skin. The tears wouldn’t stop. They just kept coming.
She didn’t often cry for herself. But seeing that Lex had been hurt, that he’d been a victim, it had cut her right to the core.
“No, sweetheart, no.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled Sophie closer to him. “That was a long time ago.”
Her breath was hitching. Her heart—breaking. “Who?”
His body stiffened, but his hold just tightened on her. “Who broke your bones? Who kept sending you to the hospital?”
She closed her eyes. “My father.” And her mother hadn’t stopped him. She’d just watched, with eyes that were weary. With a gaze long dead. She watched. Then, each time, when Sophie had come home from the hospital, her mother had sat on Sophie’s bed. Voice sad, she’d said, “You shouldn’t make him angry. I don’t make him angry anymore. It’s just you, Sophie. You have to stop being so bad. When the police come, don’t be bad. Be a good girl.”
A good girl didn’t tell on her father. A good girl pretended she’d fallen again and again. At soccer practice. At ballet. In gym. Anywhere. Everywhere.
His hand stroked her hair. “My mother left me when I was just a baby. I never knew her. I think she was running away from him.”
But she left you there?
“All of my memories of him…” Lex spoke softly and he kept stroking her hair. “They involve his fists or his belts. I know he had to be good. No one is always evil, right?”
Sophie wasn’t so sure of that. Her tears still weren’t stopping.
“The marks he left on me couldn’t be explained away by a fall.” Still, he stroked her hair, so carefully. “So when I was six, people came and they took me away from him.”
People. Child services.
“I never saw the bastard again. I never wanted to see him.”
When she closed her eyes, she saw her father. Not the enraged man he’d been, spittle flying from his mouth as he yelled at her.
But…her last image. Him on the floor, surrounded by a pool of blood. Her mother beside him, with that big hole between her eyes.
Sophie shuddered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you were hurt.”
“No one hurts me now.”
She believed that.
“And no one will hurt you.”
Her breath heaved out once more, then she pushed against his chest. His hold eased and she tipped back her head, staring up at him. She and Lex were far more alike than she’d originally realized. Survivors.
He’d grown from that past of pain and become a soldier. A protector. Not a monster.
And she…
Sophie wasn’t sure what she was.
“The past only hurts us if we let it,” Lex told her, voice gruff. “I buried that shit. It’s not me, not anymore.”
“I couldn’t get away.” Why was she telling him this? She’d never even told Ethan all the painful details. As if not talking meant it didn’t happen to me. “I tried to run away—three times—but he’d find me each time. And when he brought me back home, he just hurt me more.” Her right leg always ached in the evenings because she didn’t think it had healed properly. “He’d keep me locked up, in the basement.” That fucking basement that she hated. “And it was so dark there. If I screamed for help, he’d just come and hurt me again.” Her words came, faster and faster. “He’d tell my friends I was sick. He’d send a note to the school. They all just thought I was ill. No one ever checked on me back then.” No, that wasn’t true. “Ethan would check. He fought with my father once.”
“Sophie…”
“But when Ethan left, I had to pay the price.” The tears were still coming, like a dam had been opened within her. “I asked him never to confront my dad again. I-I didn’t think I’d survive if he did.”
“Your father was one sick son of a bitch.”
Yes. “He was a man who liked total control.” No, more than that. “He was a twisted bastard who enjoyed hurting those who were weaker.” First her mother, and then, when Sophie had come along…me.
She kept her gaze on Lex. “You aren’t anything like your father.” She’d never felt fear of Lex. Sure, he had plenty of power, but when she was with him, she felt protected. Safe. Not threatened.
“And you’re nothing like yours.”
A sob broke from her.
“Sophie, you are tearing out my heart.” He pulled her close again and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “What can I do to make it better? What can I do?”
Nothing. Because her monster was dead. And his was in the past.
She wrapped her arms around him. “I wish I could take away the pain you had.” He was such a good man, at his core. He hadn’t deserved what happened to him.
“Sweetheart, I’d give my soul to take away yours.”
Her heart stopped. He actually sounded as if he meant those words. Impossible, of course, but—
A loud pounding echoed through the house.
“What the hell?” Lex muttered and he pulled away. “Sounds like someone’s at the front door.”
She felt cold, too exposed, as he hurried toward the bedroom door. Sophie grabbed the sheet, needing it now.
Lex jerked on a pair of jeans. “Stay here, Sophie. I’ll take care of this.” He hurried from the room.
Who could be at his door that early? Dev? His other partner, Chance Valentine? She swiped her hand over her face, trying to get rid of those tears. She felt hollowed out on the inside, her heart raw, her emotions all over the place. This just wouldn’t do. She never broke apart. She couldn’t afford to do it.
But seeing the scars on Lex’s back, realizing that he’d been a victim, just as she had…that had changed everything for her. Lex wasn’t someone to be used and discarded. He was so much more.
“What are you doing here?” Lex’s angry voice carried easily to her because he’d left the bedroom door open.
“I need to see Sophie.” And that voice—a voice just as angry, just as deep—it had her stumbling toward the bedroom door. Ethan Barclay. If Ethan had tracked her to Lex’s place, then that could not be a good sign.
“Too fucking bad,” Lex snarled back. “Sophie is busy right now.”
Crap. She needed clothes, right then. Her frantic gaze flew around the room. Where had she dropped that bag?
“So why don’t you just haul your ass out,” Lex’s fierce voice continued. “And I’ll get her to call you later.” Then he swore. “Hell, how did you even find my place? How did you know she was with me?”
Based on that lethal tone, she didn’t have time to dress. She kept that sheet around her and sprinted through the bedroom door.
“I know everything about Sophie,” Ethan said, his voice far too knowing.
She ran down the hallway. She could see those two men—big, fierce, and looking as if they were about to come to blows at any second.
“Not everything,” Lex threw right back.
No, Ethan didn’t know everything, but he thought he did.
“You slept with her, huh?” Ethan drawled. “Then I guess she’s done with you now.”
Lex surged toward Ethan. Ethan jumped right toward Lex.
“Stop!” Sophie yelled. They stilled.
She kept running until she was close enough to grab Ethan’s arm. Then she jerked him away from Lex and toward her. “What are you doing here?”
His golden eyes—only Ethan had eyes that color—glared down at her. “I was worried about you. You weren’t home. I heard buzz about an attack…” His hands closed around her shoulders. “You should have come to me.”
Once, Ethan’s face had been eerily close to perfect. Before Daniel Duvato got hold of him. Now, Ethan’s high cheekbones were marked. A long, still angry red scar went down his left cheek and another sliced down his right. His dark hair was longer than before, and it looked as if he’d been running his fingers through the tousled mane.
“She came to me,” Lex said, stepping forward. “Now get your hands off her.”
Ethan didn’t. She knew Ethan wasn’t used to following orders.
“Get. Them. Off.” Lex advanced more, closing the last of the distance between them. “You’re in my house, asshole, and Sophie is—”
Ethan dropped his hands and turned to face Lex. “What? She’s yours?” He laughed, the sound mocking. “Don’t kid yourself. It’s obvious Sophie had her fun with you, but I know her. She’s done now.” He inclined his head toward Sophie. “Let’s go. We have things to discuss in private.”