by Lori Foster
When she ignored the coffee, Cannon put it in her hand. “Drink some.” The idea of consuming anything made her stomach pitch, but he seemed so upset that she agreed just to appease him.
But that, too, had him grinding his teeth.
Her position was so untenable that she wasn’t sure what to do or say. She felt it, how all the men watched her. Their concern burned her from the inside out, leaving her face hot and her throat tight.
Why had she gone outside?
Mindi. Jealousy and hurt had blunted her better judgment.
Why hadn’t she immediately run from Heath?
Arrogance. She’d truly thought, with others around, that she could keep her dignity intact and just walk away.
So, so dumb. And now all this fanfare. Why hadn’t she—
“A little more,” Cannon said, again pressing the sweetened coffee into her shaking hands.
“Thank you.” Feeling like a complete spectacle, she dutifully sipped.
Silence filled the room until Cannon stood and went to Logan. She could hear the hushed voices, but not exactly what was said.
Whatever it was, the room began to empty. On his way out, Armie squeezed her shoulder, bent to put a kiss to the top of her head.
Rowdy said, “If you need anything, just let me know.”
“Thanks.” Cannon reclaimed his seat beside her, half-turned toward her. His knee bumped her thigh, his right hand rested on her shoulder.
Officer Huffer said nothing, just carried his coffee and silently left.
With his free hand, Cannon held the ice pack to the darkening bruises from where Heath had gripped her.
She thought of it, how scared she’d been, how stupid she felt now, and tears threatened. Gulping air, she fought them off.
Cannon’s big hand opened on her back, gently rubbing.
She hated it, all of it. The careful concern. The worried gazes. The coddling. Why did she have to keep being a victim?
“Tell me what happened,” Logan said. “Take your time, and don’t leave out any details.”
Nodding, she went through the entire story, explaining how Heath had approached, how he’d whisked her away, not stopping until he’d reached his car.
One question after another interrupted the telling.
Yes, she’d tried to leave, but he’d restrained her, pleading with her before going into a rage.
No, no one had seemed to notice or care that he was practically dragging her along. Perhaps they’d thought her drunk. Or just didn’t want to get involved.
Yes, he’d tried to put her in his car. That was how her arm got bruised, her shirt ripped.
Everything had happened so fast.
She told them how Armie had checked on her and about her promise to come right back in.
She hadn’t known about Mary until Cannon explained how he knew there was a problem, why he’d gone in search of her.
When next Yvette saw her, she’d thank her.
Oh, the irony in that.
Damn it, she would not continue to be this pathetic.
Lifting the foam cup, she finished off the coffee. It wasn’t easy, but she forced herself to sit a little straighter, to stop avoiding eye contact.
“Is there anything else?”
“Yeah.” Logan propped a hip on the edge of the table. “You okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” Somehow she would make it so, because sniveling was out of the question. “Thank you for coming out. I’m sorry—”
“None of that.” Logan’s voice was kind but firm. “Huffer joined in interviewing witnesses. I already put out an ATL.”
When she shook her head, not understanding, he clarified, “Attempt to locate.”
“Do you think they’ll find him?”
“Depends on what he does. We have his car make and model, a good description of him. And Cannon says he’s injured.”
“Dislocated shoulder,” Cannon said without inflection. “Broken nose, hopefully busted ribs.”
With a noncommittal sound, Logan drank more coffee. “So he’ll need medical care?”
“Probably.”
Logan waited, a brow raised.
“I know how to put my shoulder back,” Cannon said. “Nose, too. Ribs just need to heal. But he’s not me.”
Yvette stared at him, horrified. No, Heath wasn’t even close to being Cannon. But he was insane.
Logan just rolled with it. “Okay, so we’ll alert the major hospitals, but if he goes directly to an urgent care facility…” His shoulder lifted. “The thing with an ATL is that an officer has to actually come across him. He doesn’t have a known residence here, we aren’t sure where he’s been staying, so if he lies low, could be hard to catch up with him.”
Cannon watched her. His enigmatic gaze kept her from knowing his thoughts. He was…intense, but with anger? Concern? She just couldn’t tell.
Logan wanted her to go through the story again, just to ensure the details stayed the same and she hadn’t forgotten anything.
Telling it a second time wasn’t any easier.
“It’ll take a couple of days for the arrest warrant.” With the cup now empty, Logan crushed it and tossed it toward a garbage can. “Did you have an RO against him in California? If so, we need to notify them.”
Another blank look from her.
“Restraining order,” Logan explained.
“It didn’t seem necessary. He…” She hated having to defend herself. “He wasn’t like this, that is, this extreme, until after I left. I could just ignore him.”
“Not anymore.” He looked from her to Cannon and back again. “It’s a good idea if you don’t stay alone.”
Cannon pushed back his chair. “She won’t be.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
CANNON DIDN’T WANT to leave, not even for a second. But he also refused to leave her unprotected.
They’d only been in the break room for forty-five minutes—less than an hour that had felt like ten as he listened to her quavering voice, saw her shaking hands and witnessed her humiliation.
She didn’t understand that no one blamed her. Because she blamed herself.
No one expected her to keep it together either.
But she did.
He followed Logan as far as the door, thanking him again. It was a good thing to be friends with cops.
The bar crowd hadn’t thinned out much. Even from the break room he could hear the boisterous laughter and loud talking. Someone played the jukebox; beer bottles clattered. He rubbed the bridge of his nose but quickly made up his mind.
“Stay put a minute.”
Twisting around, a little panicked, she asked, “Where are you going?”
“I’m not leaving.” Yet. “You’ll stay here?”
She looked wounded that he had to ask. “Yes.”
Nodding, he left the room to search for Rowdy and found him in the kitchen. “I need a favor.”
Drying his hands, Rowdy nodded and stepped aside with him. “You want me to put out some feelers?”
What the cops couldn’t find through legal channels, Rowdy could usually manage…the other way.
“Yeah, I do. But I’ll also be doing my own thing.”
“Neighborhood watch?”
He nodded. “Can you stay with her while I go get Armie? Then I’ll just need ten minutes to get things lined up.”
“Not a problem.” Knowing time was short, Rowdy started off.
Cannon stopped him with a hand on his arm. “She’s…” Stoic beyond reason. “This is…”
“I know.” He squeezed Cannon’s shoulder. “Hustle it up, okay? No matter what she says or does, she needs you a lot more than she needs anything else.”
With the red haze of rage still pulsing through his veins, Cannon wondered if that was true. As far as he could tell, Yvette resented needing anyone—him included.
But thinking about that right now was a major distraction from what needed to be done.
He found Armie exactly where he expe
cted him to be: in a huddle with the other guys, making plans. They were outside together, standing far enough away from the cops not to be overheard.
Armie spotted him, looked him over with concern and said quietly, “I got the ball rolling.”
“Thanks.” Torn between where he wanted to be and what he wanted to do, he clenched and unclenched his fists. “I can’t go anywhere tonight—”
“Damn right,” Stack agreed, his gaze remarkably steady for someone who’d been drinking. “Stay with her. We’ll canvass the usual places.”
“And ask the usual questions,” Denver added. “Anything concrete turns up, we’ll let you know.”
“Otherwise, you’ll hear from me in the morning.” Armie flexed his bare shoulders. “If he’s anywhere around here, we’ll know.”
“I want a second pair of eyes on her.” Cannon knew his own considerable ability. He could handle just about any physical confrontation. But if Heath decided to start shooting, well, who the hell knew what could happen? No way did he want her left alone with the bastard.
In this neighborhood there were plenty of young guys looking for a fast buck. He’d invested a lot of time and energy into steering them away from drugs and gangs. The rec center helped a lot with that. Some of them had even gotten legitimate jobs—but not all.
When it suited his purposes, Cannon didn’t mind using them. He paid, and it kept them from doing something illegal. He would never hand over front-line protection for Yvette, but as backup? As an extra observer?
A win-win for them both.
“So.” Armie shoved his hands into his pockets. “You’re still red eyed and looking fierce.”
Hands on his hips, head down, Cannon admitted the obvious. “I’ve never been this…”
“Out of control?”
Cannon closed his eyes, dragged in a deep breath of the thick evening air. “I wanted to kill him.”
“Yeah, I was there. Saw it.” He nudged Cannon with his shoulder. “But won’t it be more fun to have the fuck rot in jail?”
“No.”
“Look at it this way,” Armie said, never one to quit. “Did you really want Yvette to witness you disemboweling him?”
A reluctant sound, half laugh, half groan, escaped him. “She’d probably act like that was nothing, too.”
“Ho. What’s this? You wanted her to start bawling and go all hysterical? Because I have to say, I hate that shit.”
“Ditto,” Stack said.
“Same here,” Denver agreed.
He cast his frown around at each of them and realized their evenings had been blown, as well. “Sorry.”
“For?” Armie asked.
“You all had hookups and now—”
“Not me,” Stack said. “I struck out.”
They all looked at Denver, but he shook his head. “No.”
“What about Cherry?” Cannon had seen her in his lap and just assumed…
“She flirted with a dozen different guys.” Denver looked at Stack. “Including you.”
“She was just joking around.”
Denver shook his head again and turned to Armie. “I saw you with a top-heavy blonde.”
He shrugged. “Either she’ll wait or she won’t. No biggie.” He pointed at Cannon. “But you already got the prize, so why dawdle out here with us? We’ve got it under wraps.”
Cannon locked his hands behind his head and paced in agitation. What did he want?
Yvette, yes. But for how long? Forever?
Probably.
Did he want her to be needy? No. Never that. He loved her strength and independence. But he needed her trust.
He needed her to be herself with him.
“One thing at a time,” Armie advised. He leaned in closer so no one else would hear. “And given how you two tongue dueled before the cops showed up, well, I’m thinking she has her own way of coping. Be the hero, man. Get her home and help her cope.”
Scrubbing a hand over his face, Cannon laughed again. “Right. Glad I can always count on you to focus on the important things.”
“You know it.”
Honestly, that was how they dealt, how they kept things in perspective. Regardless of the jokes, he knew Armie would do everything in his power to help, just as Cannon would have done for him. They relied on each other, and had total trust.
Now, if only he could get there with Yvette.
Pulling it together as much as he could, Cannon put in a few calls making arrangements, then asked his own questions of the witnesses. It all came down to the fact that Heath had tried to take her, she’d resisted and the bastard had gotten away.
Less than ten minutes later Cannon stalked back into the break room. Rowdy was just in the process of giving her a fresh ice pack.
She was in the process of telling him she didn’t need it.
“We’ll take it with us.” Now that he’d done as much as he could, he wanted to get her home.
And then he wanted to clear up a few misunderstandings. The sooner the better.
*
THE MORE SHE thought about it, the more Yvette couldn’t believe her own behavior.
Heath had tried to force her into a car.
Cannon had literally mangled him.
And she’d reacted with…lust?
The woman who couldn’t have a climax. Or rather, couldn’t—until Cannon.
But good God, out in a parking lot with a rapt audience watching, in some cases recording, everything?
Even now, knowing that he only bided his time, that he’d revealed her deepest, darkest hurts to Mindi, she still wanted him.
Desperately.
It made sense. Cannon was a terrific guy, respected by so many. He had a perfect body, honed with strength.
And his face…those electric-blue eyes, thick lashes, sculpted cheekbones and strong jaw.
His sexy smile.
Heat crawled up her neck; she’d totally forgotten herself in that parking lot, all because he’d kissed her without the kid-glove treatment he usually favored.
Thinking about it sent additional warmth throbbing between her legs. And her belly. Her breasts. Deep in her core.
He’d been consumed with need…for her.
Thank God no one had asked her to repeat that part of things. She’d gotten by just saying that Cannon was checking on her and that was how Heath had escaped.
It was over and done with now, so she needed to stop thinking about it. Better to sort out the problems.
How had Heath gotten up and left after that beating? Witnesses said he’d driven away. That he’d looked terrible. That his arm was clearly damaged, his nose twisted. One eye swollen shut. Blood everywhere.
And still he’d fled the scene.
She didn’t know where Cannon had gone after leaving her in the break room. He didn’t say, and he was so distant right now, she didn’t ask.
It had been excruciating, leaving the bar. So many people staring. Nearly all of them strangers.
Thank God Armie had given her his shirt to wear. That at least kept her decently covered, hiding her own ripped shirt. She was also grateful that he’d stopped Cannon from hurting Heath worse. Not that she cared about Heath’s injuries, but she didn’t want Cannon to have to deal with the aftermath because of her.
She liked everything about Armie—except for his appreciation of Mindi.
She didn’t see the attraction. But then, she wasn’t male. Men, she found, were difficult to understand.
And thinking of difficult men…she again looked at Cannon. Each lamppost they passed briefly illuminated his profile.
Cannon’s knuckles were raw, his gaze still deadly.
Driving in utter silence, he repeatedly flexed his hands on the steering wheel. She didn’t know if he did that because of anger or because his hands hurt.
He looked…maybe combustible.
Exhaustion, both emotional and physical, left her too numb to calculate the consequences, but at the edges of her mind, she knew it was bad.
/>
All of it.
Too tired to be discreet, she asked, “Are you mad?”
“Yes.” No hesitation.
Wow. She’d never seen him in this mood like this. Usually he was even tempered, calm personified, in ultimate control.
Unsure how to deal with him, she bit her lip, then asked, “At me?”
Frown intensifying, he glanced at her, over her, before giving his attention back to the road.
Before he could answer, her nervous chatter erupted. “Because seriously, you know I wasn’t leaving, right? I didn’t lie about that. I just wanted a breath of air.”
“I would have walked out with you.”
At that moment, she hadn’t wanted him to. When she thought of him talking with Mindi about her, it left her desolate. But going into all that now would only make a bad night worse.
And besides, she had her pride.
If all he wanted was, as Mindi had said, to finish what they’d started, well, she wanted that, too. Somehow she’d make it be enough, and he’d never know that she still carried her schoolgirl infatuation.
Knowing he waited, she came up with the first excuse she could find without opening another vein. “You had fans lined up to see you.”
“I get breaks, too.” That icy calm tone was worse than a shout. “Or did you think I needed to cater to the fans for four hours straight?”
She winced; the way he said it, it did sound dumb. “I didn’t want to be a bother.”
He laughed, but it sure as heck wasn’t with humor.
“I know.” Losing her own grip a little, she levered around in the seat to glare at him. “I ended up being a bigger bother!”
“Don’t put words in my mouth.”
She ignored that to stress, “I didn’t know Heath was still around. I didn’t know he was idiot enough to try to drag me off with people all around us. Until tonight, he’d always been a pain, but not a total psycho.” He’d escalated into the insanely obsessed role so quickly, she needed time to adjust. “I didn’t go off with him willingly, you know!”
Unsmiling, his own temper cracking, Cannon growled, “I thought maybe you went to ‘avoid a scene.’”
Until now, until he’d said that, she’d never known him to be a jerk. She couldn’t get enough air. Voice strained, she told him, “Yes, I hate scenes, all right? I have good reason and you know it!”