by Selena Kitt
And the Purple Heart didn't soften the blow. Not at all.
"Yeah."
"So what now?"
Damn, she was nosy.
"I don't know."
"School?"
"Yeah, I guess. I don't know." Jesus, he didn't want to be answering these questions. And damn, his knee and hip were killing him, but he didn't want to show it. A wave of nausea ran through him from the pain. "What do you do for a living?" There. He'd turn the tables on her.
"I'm a social worker."
Oh for God's sake. Well, that figured. Dimples was sweet through and through. So sweet it hurt his teeth. "What kind?"
"I work for Family Resources—it's an agency that helps parents find the education, child care or benefits they might need for their children."
Yep. His teeth ached.
"There are a lot of resources for getting wounded vets back into the workplace."
Ugh. He abruptly dropped his pace to let her move ahead. He sure as hell didn't need her problem solving for him.
She slowed also, adjusting her pace to match his. "I'm sorry."
It was the first time she'd shown any sensitivity to his responses and the sincerity in her apology chewed him up even more than her prying.
He stopped running altogether, dropping to a walk. Actually a limp, which he seemed unsuccessful in masking at the moment.
She got ahead by a few paces before she realized and also stopped.
"Look, Dimples. I can see you're a very sweet girl, but I don't need your sympathy or for you to problem-solve for me. Got it?"
Her green eyes shone with pity. Her chest rose and fell as her breath slowed from the change in pace. "Yeah. I got it."
Something about her simple acceptance turned him on. It was a real submission, not the "yes, sir" kind he elicited from his play partners. It made his imagination run wild, picturing her in all kinds of naked surrender. His palm itched to spank her long and hard just to teach her a lesson about who pitied who.
Yeah, he was a real dick.
Kaitlyn the social worker would be smart to forget she ever met him.
* * *
Kaitlyn changed outfits four times. Alexander, her online date, was picking her up at eight and she couldn't quite figure out the right "message" with her clothing. Not too sexy, because she wasn't about to put out on the first date, but not too boring or he wouldn't be interested. Not too fancy, but not too casual. In the end, she opted for a skirt and blouse with flats. She'd save heels for a fancier date. Tonight they were just meeting for a "drink".
A knock sounded at the door and the butterflies in her tummy took flight. She took a deep breath. It was just a date. And it wasn't with the hot Marine next door—the guy who made her knees weak—so what was the big deal?
She opened the door and looked out.
Okaaay. Not as good-looking as his picture, that was for sure. Was it even the same guy as the picture? This guy looked thin-faced and a little greasy. Tall in a gangly kind of way. Well, he was probably a really nice guy.
"Hi. Are you Alexander?"
He stuck out his hand. "Yes. Kaitlyn?"
She shook his palm, which was sweaty. "Yes." She pushed past him into the hallway, not wanting to invite him into her place. "I'm all set." She pulled the door shut behind her and locked it. As they walked past Rob's apartment, she listened for sounds, as she always did. The television blared. The poor guy really needed a job or a hobby.
She'd been thinking about him nonstop since their run together. That little slap on the ass he'd given her had been uber hot. Dominant. No-nonsense. So sexy. She wanted more of that. Of him. But she had a real date tonight with someone who was interested in her, so she might as well make the best of it.
She climbed in Alexander's car—an old Toyota Corolla—and attempted to make small talk. Unfortunately, the guy wasn't doing much for her. Her excitement at having a date had faded when she'd met Rob, and now, meeting Alexander in person, all the rest of her interest died away too. He wasn't her type.
Fortunately, he didn't seem to notice, because he chattered away about his chiropractic business, bragging about how quickly he'd grown it since opening his doors a year ago.
He took her to a trendy bar, where thankfully, a band was playing, which saved her from making more conversation. Not that it stopped Alexander. He shouted over the music, droning on about his extensive experience as a chiropractor and all his successes with patients.
It took all Kaitlyn's self-control not to pull out her phone and start texting Becky about what a loser the guy was. Maybe she could fake a headache to go home early. Too bad he'd picked her up, because now she was at his mercy.
Note to self—next time, drive your own car and meet the guy.
Forty-five minutes later, the band took a break and she stood up. "Well, I should get home. I have to get up early tomorrow for, um… the farmer's market."
He looked disappointed. "Do you want another drink?"
"Nope, I'm all set. Let's get going."
He took her elbow as they headed out. With another guy, she might not mind the gesture, but it felt controlling and weird from Alexander. She resisted the urge to shake his hand off. The date was almost over.
"So how many guys have you dated that you met online?"
She nibbled her lip. "Not many."
"I've been doing it for a while. A lot of girls aren't as pretty as you are, but I do find a lot of desperate ones who are all too happy to have sex."
Ew.
She didn't love that he was steering the conversation toward sex.
"Oh really? I don't do that."
"What, have sex?"
"With people I meet online. Yeah."
He snorted. "Never?"
"No, never." If she sounded defensive, it was because she wanted to be sure he understood. Sex was off the table.
He pulled up in front of her apartment.
"Okay, well, it's been fun." She jumped out of the car.
"I'll walk you in."
"That's not necessary," she said, slamming the car door.
"Yes, it is. I know how to be a gentleman." He hurried to catch her elbow again.
Ugh. Really?
They got to her door and she hesitated. Should she unlock it and then say goodbye, or try to get rid of him first?
She turned to him, but he looked like he wanted to kiss her, so she jerked her focus back to the door and slid the key in the lock.
The moment the door opened, Alexander shoved her inside, clapping a hand over her mouth and an arm around her waist. Her purse went flying, contents spilling out on the floor.
She screamed, but it came out muffled against his hand.
He kicked the door shut and carried her, thrashing and flailing to the bedroom.
His thumb covered her nose, making it impossible to breathe. Her heart jumped to her throat, cold panic swept through her veins.
He dropped her on the bed. His hand came off her mouth for a moment and she got a half-scream in before it clamped back down.
She kicked, aiming for his balls, but he jerked to the side in time to avoid it. He crawled over her and clamped his thighs around her legs to subdue her.
His hand slipped from her mouth and she screamed as loudly as possible. It only lasted a second before he cut off her air with his fingers closed around her throat.
Her eyes bulged. She thrashed underneath him. Thinking of the Marine next door, she reached out and slapped the bedroom wall.
Please hear me.
Alexander's fingers tightened around her neck. The edges of her vision turned black. Stars danced before her eyes. Light bled away.
God help her, he was going to kill her.
* * *
The apartment walls were paper thin. He'd heard when Dimples brought a man home, their voices in the hall carrying into his apartment.
It shouldn't annoy him to hear a male voice. He didn't want to date Dimples. Even so, he wondered what kind of guy she'd brought home. A s
traight-laced salesman type. That was his guess. An accountant. A lawyer. His lip curled in a sneer. They'd marry Dimples because she'd look good on their arm, and they wouldn't deserve the purity of her heart.
He turned up the television to block out the sound. If they were going to have sex, he sure as hell didn't want to hear it.
He watched as Rick Grimes and his son killed five zombies on The Walking Dead. That was what he felt like some days—a zombie.
He sat up and hit mute on the television.
Was that a scream?
He listened.
Nothing more came from next door.
Nah. He'd probably imagined it.
But then a thud sounded against the wall.
He stood up from the couch, his instincts kicking into high alert, adrenaline coursing through his body.
But no, this was probably more of his PTSD. The shrink said his body jumped into emergency mode too easily. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He walked out into the hall and listened at Kaitlyn's door.
Nothing.
He knocked.
Still nothing, and yet he was sure someone was inside. He'd just heard their voices in the hallway, hadn't he?
He tried the knob, but it was locked. Something crunched under his foot. He looked down. On the floor lay a crushed tube of lip gloss. Were those the contents of Kaitlyn's purse? He saw lipstick, and a phone with a pink butterfly protector. No way she would have left those there unless something had gone wrong.
Stepping back, he brought the sole of his foot to the door, right at the handle, splintering the thin wood. The door flew open.
Down the hall, the bedroom door stood open and Rob could see a guy was working his pants down with one hand, the other was clasped around Kaitlyn's throat. She lay on the bed, unmoving.
Shit.
The guy whirled, his look startled fury.
Rob pounded down the hallway and into the bedroom, his fist connecting with the guy's temple.
Kaitlyn moaned as the guy dropped to the floor in a limp heap.
With her skirt tangled up around her waist and her panties down at her ankles, she gasped for breath, coughing hoarsely. Angry red fingerprints stood out on her throat. That would bruise.
Torn between killing the guy on the floor and helping Kaitlyn, Rob delivered a kick to the guy's ribs and reached for the panties, yanking them up.
Confusion, then horror flashed in her eyes as she took in her position and the state of her undress.
He was almost positive the asshole hadn't raped her yet. "Hey. Are you okay?"
Stupid question.
He grasped the hem of her skirt and tugged it down, then pulled her up off the bed. His training told him not to leave the enemy unguarded for a moment. "Hey, if you can walk, can you go get your phone and call the cops for me?"
She didn't move, shock streaking her face.
"Kaitlyn." He added just a tinge of authority to his tone, but otherwise kept it gentle. She didn't need any more trauma right now.
She shook her head. "No cops. Can you just get rid of him?"
"Uh uh. No way. We're calling the cops. This guy does not get a free pass."
The guy struggled to his knees. Rob dropped onto his back, shoving him down to his belly. "Do you have any duct tape?"
"Rob… can you just get rid of him?" she pleaded. "I don't want him here."
He wrestled the asshole's wrists behind his back. He really wished he had some fucking duct tape because the urge to break the guy's wrists was too damn strong. "Call the cops, Kaitlyn. Now."
She hesitated a moment longer, then ran out of the room.
"Your phone is in the hallway," he shouted over his shoulder.
The dude had regained full consciousness and was struggling for all he was worth. Rob picked up his head by the hair and slammed it back down against the floor, knocking him out again.
He heard Kaitlyn's voice on the phone, shaky and scared. She gave her address. "He's… I don't know if he's conscious. My neighbor is sitting on him… Okay… all right… thanks."
She came back in the room and handed him a roll of duct tape. He was impressed that she'd been clear-minded enough to multi-task while on the phone with emergency services. He wrapped the asshole's wrists up, then wound tape around his ankles and slapped a piece over his mouth for good measure.
Only then did he think it was safe enough to stand up and wrap Kaitlyn up in a hug.
She fell against him, her body trembling. She smelled sweet, like cucumbers and melon, her dark red hair softer than he'd expected where it brushed his neck.
He rubbed his hands up and down her back. "You're okay. You're safe now."
"Did he? Did…"
"I don't think so. You were passed out and he was trying to get his pants down when I came in."
"But do you think—"
"No."
She was probably too shaken up to know what had happened to her. "But the cops will probably have you go to the hospital and get checked out."
"No!" She pulled away from him, her big green eyes agitated. "I don't want to go to the hospital. I just want this to be over."
He cupped her beautiful face, lightly running his thumb over her cheek. "Shh. It will be okay. I'll go with you."
"No, I don't want to—"
"It's not up for discussion." He did his best at kind but stern. It wasn't his normal Dom persona—usually he was a cold-hearted bastard—but Kaitlyn needed warmth tonight. He hadn't thought himself capable of that anymore. It surprised him that he wanted to try.
For the first time since he'd come home from the last tour on a stretcher, without his detail, he felt something other than despair.
Which was pretty ass-backwards considering the girl he was with just got assaulted.
* * *
She wanted to stay wrapped up in Rob's arms for the rest of the night.
Make that the rest of her life.
He made her feel safe. Protected. Strength radiated from the powerful muscles, his calm in the face of nauseating trauma made it feel like everything would be okay.
She'd been an idiot. The whole thing was so shameful. She never should have let the chiropractor pick her up or know where she lived. She should have met him at a neutral location for their first date. She'd screwed up, and if Rob hadn't come along…
She shuddered to think what would have happened. Would he have killed her?
Her neck felt bruised and it throbbed where his fingers had nearly choked her to death.
She wondered if he was into asphyxiation, or if that had just been to subdue her so he could rape her without struggle.
She looked down at the bound asshole at their feet. She wished the cops would get there and take him away. She didn't want him in her apartment. Heck, she didn't want to be in her apartment anymore.
"Do you want to call someone? A friend to go to the hospital with you?"
He had said he would go with her. Of course he'd probably prefer not to. She should call a female friend. She stepped closer to him.
He rubbed her back and allowed her to press her cheek against his muscled chest.
"Are you still going to come?"
"Yeah. If that's what you want. Definitely."
His demeanor was totally different now. Gone was the surly, angry young man. Now, he was just a pillar of strength. She supposed he'd had to do crisis on a daily basis while on tour.
A knock sounded at the door and she pulled away. "I really don't want to do this."
"I know, but turning him over to the cops is the only thing keeping me from killing him."
She lifted her eyes in surprise.
"I'm serious. I'd rather not do the right thing here."
Okay, she didn't want Rob to do something illegal.
"You get it, I'll stay here and keep an eye on him," Rob said, kicking Alexander.
"Yeah. Okay," she whispered. She "opened" the door—which was hanging off the hinges. Apparently Rob had kicke
d it in. The police officers—one female, one male—entered and took charge of the situation, handcuffing Alexander.
Numbness set in as she and Rob gave their statements to the police. The paramedics wanted to take her in an ambulance, but when she refused, Rob offered to drive her. The female police officer advised her to bring a change of clothes, because they would keep hers for evidence.
Her stomach knotted up with the shame of the thing. She wanted this to be over. She wanted it to have never happened.
The hospital was a nightmare of having her privates dusted for fingerprints. Well, not exactly, but essentially. They took photographs of the bruising on her neck and asked her a ton of questions. Finally, two hours later, it was over.
When she emerged, Rob stood there, waiting, as he'd promised.
"Hey."
Once more, he wrapped her up in a hug.
She could get used to standing in the circle of his arms. To smelling his intoxicating scent, so clean and masculine. To yielding to his dominant, commanding way. She'd been too shocked at the time, but now that she replayed the scene back at her apartment, Rob's complete and utter take-chargeness made her swoon. He'd rescued her, had handled the situation with ease. A man born for crisis. It was no wonder he was having a hard time since his retirement.
* * *
It was funny how one event could change their whole dynamic. Rob drove Kaitlyn back to their apartment building. They sat in silence, but it wasn't an awkward silence. There was a bond between them now. Like with his brothers in the Marines, they shared the knowledge that they'd been through something awful and that awful thing was made better by the simple fact that they were in it together.
Even though his brain kept trying to throw on the brakes, to push Kaitlyn away as he'd done from the beginning, it just didn't stick. Maybe it helped that it wasn't his crisis, it was hers. Nobody was staring at his scars, asking if he was okay. She was the one with the bruised neck and whatever psychological fallout comes from an assault and attempted rape. And it was a helluva lot easier to be with her wounds than his own.