She moved to sit on the red couch, staring off into hall, trying to convince herself that being a little bit obsessive-compulsive wasn't always a bad thing. It came in handy when she was on the run. She kept very few things on her when she moved from place to place so there wasn't a need for a long, drawn-out event to be made out of leaving one place for another. There was no mementos to be left behind and missed dearly. No random pieces of paper betraying her next move.
It kept her safer.
Standing up, she walked over to the closet Xander had reached in for hangers. If she hadn't been mistaken, it was a closet he seemed to be trying to hide from her. She never considered herself a nosy person, but curiosity was getting the better of her. She pulled the door open and her breath escaped her lips in a whoosh.
Because there attached to the inside of the door was the widest assortment of weapons she had ever seen. And considering where she had come from, that was saying something. There were things she recognized: brass knuckles, cans of pepper spray, knives, three different kinds of tasers. She pulled out a small metal rod-shaped object, looking at it curiously, before swinging out with it and watching it extend. A baton. Then there was something plastic that wrapped around your knuckles with a few metal plates in the front. She decided it must have been some kind of stun-gun you wore on your fist. Which was a really cool idea. Then at the bottom was an assortment of chains and handcuffs. No guns. She wondered if the one in his drawer was the only one he had. Judging by his assortment of other self-defense weapons, that probably wasn't the case.
Were those kinds of weapons even legal?
She closed the door, moving away from it, feeling a strange wave of relief. If he was the kind of man who was willing to own that many illegal weapons, then he was just the right kind of dangerous she needed on her side.
There was a loud rapping on the front door, making her jump and back up several feet, her heart flying into her throat. She looked at the solid glass windows in dismay, then at the closet of pain and death with a sort of resignation. She could use one of those weapons. If she really needed to, she could do it. She felt herself moving toward it when a voice yelled through the door, loud and impatient.
"Open up, sweetheart. I'm not gonna murder you," Xander called.
Ellie's hand fell from the doorknob, moving through to the office with a fist of fear still settled deeply in her stomach. She unlocked the door, stepping back from it quickly.
Xander walked in, looking at Ellie, her eyes wide and fearful. She was standing slightly on her toes, looking like she was one wrong move away from running out the door. Her hands were balled into fists at her side. He felt himself smile, shaking his head.
"I went to your apartment," he said, holding out the plastic container as evidence. "I brought back some stuff for you. As pretty as you may look all swallowed up in my clothes," he said, smiling a little charmingly, "I figured you might want your own stuff."
Pretty? He thought she looked pretty? Ellie shook her head at herself. He was just being nice. Besides, it didn't even remotely matter if he did think she was pretty.
Xander walked over to the desk, putting the plastic container on top and reaching inside. He pulled out all her clothes, putting them in a pile next to his paperwork. She immediately went to them, pulling them toward her and starting to fold them neatly. "Clothes," he said, pulling items out of the box. "Your wallet, money, bath products, sneakers, your keys with that nifty little self-defense key chain," he said, dangling it in front of her, "and these books..." he said, barely getting them out of the box before she reached out and snatched the out of his hands.
He tilted his head, watching her as she sat down and pulled them to her chest. She was actually hugging the books. He laughed quickly, covering his mouth and pretending to cough. Who the hell hugged their books?
She looked up at him self-consciously, giving him a small smile. "These have sentimental value," she explained. They were the only things she owned anymore that did.
"Obviously," he said, suddenly looking around the room, sniffing the air. He looked back at her, his eyes squinting. "Did you clean?"
"Oh," she said, her mouth falling slightly open, making her look almost pouty. "Um... yeah. I... I clean when I'm... stressed. I'm sorry," she said, standing and putting the books on the desk. "I promise I didn't mess anything up. I picked things up and cleaned underneath and put everything right back where..."
"Relax sweetheart," he said, smiling a bit at her. She looked so frazzled, so worried. Like he was going to throw her out for dusting. "It's fine. Thank you, actually," he said, looking around. Had he ever actually cleaned the place, he wondered? If the floors were actually supposed to be somewhat shiny... then, no, he hadn't ever cleaned them.
"So, I talked to your neighbor," he said, watching her carefully pile all the items back in the plastic container, perfectly in order, nothing overlapping. The books, however, she left on the desk.
Ellie's face shot up. "Mary?"
Xander's eyes widened for a second. Had he actually forgotten to get the woman's name? Christ, he was getting sloppy. "The lady across the hall," he hedged, praying she wouldn't see his incompetence.
"Yeah," Ellie said, watching him. What could Mary possibly have to say? The two of them had never even spoken.
"Apparently, she is home all the time..."
"She breeds Minskins for a living," Ellie supplied.
"What the fuck is a Minskin?" Xander asked, sitting down in his desk chair.
"It's a cat," Ellie said, smiling at him. "It's a cross between a Sphynx and Munchkin."
Xander screwed up his eyebrows at her. "So, it's... short and hairless?" he asked, not quite wanting to believe that people would actually want something like that.
"Exactly," she said, looking wistful.
"You couldn't have seriously wanted one of those," Xander said, watching her.
Caught, Ellie shook her head quickly. "No. No. I don't have time for a cat."
But she wanted one. It wasn't exactly a high maintenance pet. They generally couldn't care less if you were gone all day at work so long as they were fed. If she liked cats, she had to have known that. So what was the real reason she didn't get one? And how did she know so much about Mary, when Mary didn't even know her name?
"Well, anyway," he said, shaking off his suspicious train of thought. "She almost called the cops last night," he said and watched the panic rise up on her face. So there was some kind of issue with the cops. What the hell had she gotten herself into? "But she decided against it and called the super instead. He came in and checked things out, but you were already gone. And then she said that this morning, three men showed up there." Her usually quite expressive face suddenly fell away, pushed behind a strange mask of indifference. "They picked the locks and were inside for a few minutes before leaving."
"Weird," Ellie said, feeling her belly twist. He had come back. So he knew she hadn't fled the city. How could he possibly have known that?
"Yeah. And he left all your stuff," Xander said, motioning to her wallet and wad of cash. Which had to be at least a hundred and fifty in small bills. "Unless there's something missing here that I didn't find."
There was her packed suitcase buried underneath her bed, but she wasn't going to talk about that. Ellie took a breath, trying to find the words. "No, I don't think so." Aside from her necklace. Which had been on her bedside table where she always kept it. It was a single diamond on a silver chain. She kept it as a reminder of why she needed to be aware, why she needed to constantly start new lives in new cities. Because it wasn't really a necklace. It was more like a collar.
"Alright," Xander said, not quite believing her, but not having the time to beat around the bush with her. He had a paying client he needed to get to.
Why would she be lying? Or, if she wasn't quite lying, why would she be omitting things? Like what the deal with the cops was. She couldn't possibly think he would turn her over, co
uld she? His job was to figure out her stalker situation and handle it, not judge her for whatever past indiscretions she may have gotten wrapped up in.
And why was she so nervous and jumpy? Why had it crossed her mind to buy a key chain weapon? Even if she had been stalked since she moved to the city, he couldn't imagine her getting so wrapped up in it that fast. Especially if there weren't threats and attempts to talk to her before the night before.
Most stalker victims try to downplay it, shrug it off, be a little more careful about walking at night, make sure they locked their doors.
But it seemed like it permeated every aspect of Ellie's life. She didn't have a cell phone or a laptop. He assumed she wasn't on any kind of social media.
And a deep, increasingly undeniable part of himself was sure that she was hiding something. Something big.
"Where is all your stuff? There was nothing at your apartment," he said, before he could talk himself out of it. It was stupid to feel like he was prying. He needed to pry. Her safety depended on it.
"Oh," she said, detecting the distrust in his voice with a falling feeling in her stomach. "I wasn't sure I would be staying here," she said. It was true enough. "New city and all... I wasn't sure I would like it. So, I kept all my stuff in storage." Lies. Lies. She was really going to have to work to keep all her lies straight.
"Back in Orlando?" Xander asked, trying to trip her up.
"Portland," Ellie corrected, her eyebrows drawing down. Had he actually forgotten? Or was he trying to catch her in a lie? For once, though, it wasn't a lie. She had been in Portland. She'd worked in a little indie coffeehouse and slept in what she could only describe as some sort of hippie commune.
"Right," Xander nodded. "Portland." He paused, looking at her black eye, which had yellow starting to weave its way around the blue and purple, and felt guilty. Even if she was trying to cover up some kind of law-breaking... she had been through an ordeal just the night before. And she had been stalked for several months before that. She was understandably distrustful. "How do your ribs feel today?" he asked.
"Oh, they're fine. I've had worse," she said, her eyes widening immediately. What did she just admit? "I... I'm really clumsy. I've broken ribs in the past," she covered, hoping she was being at least a little convincing. She had learned all kinds of stories to tell the hospital in the past. She fell down a flight of stairs, got kicked by a horse... anything to keep them from asking those questions while he loomed just out of eyesight. "They really only bother me when I reach above my head. You did a good wrapping job," she said, smiling weakly.
"I've had practice," he said, chuckling. "You wanna go grab a shower? I'll help you wrap up again when you're done."
Ellie jumped up, grabbing clothes and her bath products. "That would be great. I'll be out in ten," she said, scurrying off to the bathroom.
Xander leaned back in his chair, making it teeter back on two legs. What was the end game here? He didn't have much of anything to go on about her stalker. Granted, he needed to get a good physical description from her and get a mock-up made so he could start searching some databases, but even that was a long shot. So if he wasn't able to find the stalker and either scare the living shit out of him, or turn him over to the authorities... what was there to do? Would he just buy her a ticket back to Portland? That was probably for the best. She needed to get back around family and friends. She certainly couldn't live on his couch indefinitely.
The water turned on and he tried like hell to not think about her naked in there, soaping herself up. She was too damn gorgeous for her own good.
She called him in a few minutes later, holding her sweater up above her breasts. She had a pretty gray and white bra on and he tried to not look at it, but couldn't help but notice the swell of her breasts above the cups, the slightly pointed peaks of her nipples beneath the fabric.
She didn't smell like him anymore. She smelled like her soaps. It was something honey and vanilla. Sweet... and he found himself leaning closer as he wrapped her stomach to breathe it in. Feeling creepy, he shook his head and moved back.
What was wrong with him?
Ellie tried not to breathe. It was stupid. But it had been so long since anyone put hands on her and it felt a little too good. Goosebumps rose on her arms and she looked at herself in the mirror. Taking in her less-fat, but still cut lip and her black eye and reminding herself: this is what happens when you let men get close.
Xander stood up slowly, reaching for her sweater when she didn't immediately pull it down. She was staring at herself in the mirror, her eyes looking haunted, far away. When she felt him grab her shirt, she flung her hands outward, simultaneously trying to pull her sweater with one and hit him with the other. Instinctual. And he knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that there was something she wasn't telling him. It was as if anytime someone went to touch her, they meant her harm. And despite getting banged up the night before, that wasn't exactly a normal response to a one-time attack. "Just pulling your shirt down, sweetheart," he said, trying to make his tone quiet, reassuring.
"Oh," she said, looking at her hand in horror. Had she just hit him? She needed to get a hold of herself. She was losing it. "Sorry... I just..."
"Don't apologize," he said, moving away, giving her some space. He watched her, looking down at her hand like it was an alien, and a part of him went out to her. "Do you want to go on a stakeout?" he asked, not even realizing what he was going to ask her until it was out of his mouth.
Ellie almost laughed. It was the kind of things you heard in movies or read in books. It wasn't the kind of thing anyone actually expects to hear in real life. "To catch a cheating scumbag?" she asked, a smile toying with the ends of her lips. He nodded at her. "Where?" she asked, thinking about being anywhere near where he might be, and feeling her skin start to crawl.
"Well the wife lives on Central Park West," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets, "but he keeps his mistress in the Financial District."
"Classy," Ellie grumbled.
"I am gonna get Gabe," he said, looking at her, "the guy at the bond place next door," he explained, "to give me his car. You can bring a book."
Ellie thought about more time spent alone in the apartment, the walls closing in, each noise making her even more paranoid... and agreed quickly. "Let me just grab my shoes," she said, moving past him into the office.
Gabe's office was the absolute opposite of Xander's. Where Xander's was all dated and unorganized, Gabe's was pristine and new. The walls were a deep gray, all the furniture black. Ellie looked into the corners and behind the door and didn't see a cobweb or dust bunny anywhere.
"Get your ass out here," Xander called after waiting a few long minutes.
Gabe walked out a second later, a cell phone to his ear. Ellie felt her brows go up. He was really good looking. In a he knew he was really good looking kind of way. He was tall and slim in black jeans and a slim-cut black button-up shirt. He walked quickly over toward Xander, his face passive. But his hips pivoted and his arm cocked backward and started to thrust forward.
All of her self-defense classes from back in Seattle flew in front of her eyes. Her hand shot out, grabbing his fist as her own slammed into his throat. She heard a strangled "no", not realizing it came from her.
Gabe made a choking sound, bending forward, trying to catch his breath. His phone flew to the ground, bouncing slightly in its rubber case.
Xander had barely seen it, she had moved so fast. One moment she was just standing there next to him, the next, she had yelled and sent a chisel fist to Gabe's throat. He watched as Gabe folded forward on himself for a second, strangling to catch a decent breath. His eyes went to Ellie's then, wide and desperate.
Ellie watched as he started to stand straight again, looking up at her. She felt herself grab Xander's arm, pulling, trying to pull him with her as she moved backward toward the door.
Xander caught the odd look from Gabe, a look that suggested he understood
in a heartbeat what had he had learned over the past day: Ellie had been abused by a guy in her life. And she was, naturally, suspicious of all men since.
He reached behind him, taking hold of Ellie's arm and pulling her quickly forward. His arm went down heavy on her shoulders, holding her close to his side. "It's alright," he said, looking down at the top of her head. "He was just being a dick," he explained. "He isn't going to hurt either of us."
Gabe rubbed absently at his throat, looking at her. He smiled, a slow forming, charming grin. "Hell," he said, almost laughing, "that was impressive. No one ever gets the drop on me. Where did you learn that?"
Ellie felt mortification rising like bile in her throat, making her chest feel tight and her face feel hot. "I... took a self-defense class at a Y once," she started, looking at her feet. "I'm so so sorry," she said, looking up at him and feeling another wave of shame.
Gabe waved a hand, as if dismissing the subject. "Don't be. That was good. Next time," he said, watching her with his observant hazel eyes, "throw more of your weight into it. Pivot your hip more. You're small. If you want the guy to go down... you need to throw everything into it."
"I'll keep that in mind," she said, offering him a small, embarrassed smile, suddenly too distracted by the arm around her shoulders to focus much on the man in front of her. He had her pulled up against him, their bodies touching from the top of her head to their feet. And a very strong, very disconcerting part of her wanted to turn slightly and bury her face in his chest.
"You need the car?" Gabe asked, finally looking back at Xander. The guy was so screwed and he hadn't even figured it out yet.
"Yeah," Xander agreed. "What are you smiling at?"
"Nothing," Gabe said, shaking his head. "You want the black outs or no?"
Xander looked down at Ellie for a quick second. Why was he still holding her? And why had she maneuvered herself closer, the side of her face brushing his ribs? She would probably feel safer with blacked-out windows. "Yeah," he said, watching as Gabe nodded, moving toward his desk with a sly grin still in place.
Dark Mysteries Page 5