Harts of Arizona Series

by Yahrah St. John

  Lucas walked them through what occurred while a medic attended to Kenya’s injuries. Her attacker was put in handcuffs, read his rights and led to a squad car outside.

  “So Ms. James was home alone when the incident occurred?” the detective asked Lucas.

  “That’s right. But she isn’t usually. Usually she has bodyguards, but she gave them the night off.”

  “And the night they have off, she’s suddenly attacked?” said the detective, jolting down his notes in a small notepad. “Sounds suspicious to me.”

  “To me too,” Lucas confided. “But I haven’t been able to get her to tell me much.”

  “She’s in shock right now,” the detective said, “but the medics are giving her a mild sedative, which will help her settle her nerves before she’s taken to the hospital.”

  “Hospital?” Kenya must have overhead them speaking nearby, because she said, “I don’t want to go to the hospital, Lucas.” She looked at him with alarm. “I just want to go upstairs and shower. I just want to forget all about this.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible, ma’am,” the detective replied. “We’re going to need you to come to the hospital so you can be checked out.”

  “Isn’t that what the medics are doing now?” Lucas asked. “Do we have to put her through this? You and I both know that as soon as we go through those gates out there,” Lucas said, pointing through the open front door, “that the press is going to be all over us.”

  “I understand your reluctance, Mr. Kingston,” the detective said, “but we have to follow the book, given what happened.” He lowered his voice, and said, “We’re going to need a rape kit on Ms. James.”

  Lucas’s stomach lurched, and he thought he was going to throw up. “Bu-but I got here in time.”

  The detective’s brow rose. “Are you sure about that?”

  Lucas turned away and his fist came to his mouth. He prayed he’d gotten there in time. Kenya had told him that the man hadn’t hurt her, but that’s about all she said. Was she still in shock? Did I get here too late?

  “I know this is very hard to digest,” the detective said, slowly spinning Lucas around, “but it is best if we rule it out.”

  Lucas nodded and walked over to Kenya. “The police are going to need you to go to the hospital, sweetheart.”

  Kenya began crying. “But I don’t want to.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to go out there.”

  “I will be with you every step of the way,” Lucas stated, squeezing her hand. “I promise I won’t leave your side.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  Several hours later, as Kenya sat next to Lucas in the police car on the drive back to Chynna’s mansion, she realized this had to be worst and longest night of her life. First, she’d been attacked by a stranger who’d been sent to scare her into leaving town. She’d thought after he’d roughed her up that he would leave, and she would be able to lick her wounds. But after he’d punched her and smacked her around, Kenya had seen a change. She’d seen the moment he realized that no one was coming to save her and that he could do more than just scare her, he could rape her.

  He’d ripped open the silk pajama shirt she’d been wearing and tore the pants off her legs. The lascivious look in his eyes had told her that she ought to be scared for her life because when he was finished with her, who was to say he would let her live? She’d begun fighting him with her all her might and screaming bloody murder. That’s when Lucas must have arrived.

  He’d burst into the mansion, threw the guy off her and began beating him to a pulp. If she hadn’t stopped him, he might have killed the man. Not that she would have minded that much, but she didn’t want Lucas to be a murderer or worse yet, go to jail for defending her. She would never forgive herself if that happened. And so after her pleas, he’d finally stopped punching the guy.

  The hours since were the worse she’d ever endured. The police had insisted she go to the hospital, but first she’d had to get through the media frenzy at the gates of Chynna’s estate. They’d all learned she’d been assaulted and wanted answers and snapped pictures of her through the squad car even though Lucas tried to shield her.

  Then she’d arrived at the hospital to find two women waiting for her in an exam room. One was a nurse who explained that she would be completing a rape kit and the other was a rape counselor. Kenya had nearly passed out. They thought she’d been raped and was afraid to admit it. And she would have been if Lucas hadn’t arrived in time, but he had. But they didn’t believe her; going through the rape kit process was awful. Kenya couldn’t imagine anything worse, especially if she had been a victim of such a crime. It was demoralizing. She felt ashamed, even though nothing had happened.

  When it was all over, she’d exited the exam room to find Lucas waiting in the hallway for her. She’d rushed into his arms, and when she’d made it, she’d found he had tears in his eyes too. They’d held each other for a long time until the detective had finally come over to tell them what she already knew, which was that the rape kit showed no signs of trauma. She’d wanted to go home after such a horrific experience but the detective had insisted they go back to the station because it was better she tell them what transpired while the events were still fresh in her mind. And she did, but it had taken another hour before they’d finally said she could go home.

  Now, she and Lucas were finally pulling into the driveway of Lucas’s penthouse after they’d played a switcheroo with the press by sending out two officers resembling them out the front door of the police station. The press had followed, allowing Lucas and Kenya to leave the precinct in peace. She’d wanted to go back to Chynna’s, but Lucas had insisted that she come back to his house, where she would be safe with him. Kenya had been too exhausted to resist.

  “Thanks, officer,” Lucas said when the squad car pulled into the secure parking area of his complex authorized for residents only.

  “No problem,” the police officer replied and glanced back at Kenya. “Glad you’re okay, miss.”

  “Thank you,” Kenya replied, exiting the vehicle.

  The ride up to Lucas’s penthouse was fraught with silence. When they made it to the top floor, Lucas unlocked the door and Kenya walked inside. The circumstances of her last visit were far different from tonight. The last time they’d been here, they’d made love for the first time. It had been one of the most magical and exciting nights of her life. How could the situation be so different now?

  Click. Click. Kenya turned around suddenly when she heard Lucas deadbolting the door.

  Lucas held up his hands. “It’s okay, babe. I was just locking the door.”

  Kenya tried to take a deep breath, but she couldn’t. The events of the night had caught up to her, and when she tried to catch her breath, all that came out were sobs, sobs that she’d kept inside all night as she’d tried to hold it together.

  Lucas was at her side in an instant, wrapping his arms around her and rubbing her back. “It’s okay, Kenya. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

  Kenya circled her arms around his waist and hugged him tighter. Eventually, her crying subsided, and she released him long enough to look up at him and say, “I could use a shower.”

  “Of course,” Lucas said. He grasped her delicate hands in his and led her toward the master bedroom and then the bathroom.

  Kenya stared at herself in the mirror. The reflection staring back at her was ghastly. She had a busted lip, a black eye and a massive bruise on her forehead, hidden behind gauze, from when she’d fallen and hit her head on the hall table when she’d tried to escape. She heard Lucas moving around behind her until he eventually came up behind her. He set a fluffy bath towel and robe on the vanity counter. Then he handed her two of the pain tablets that the hospital had given her for her concussion, along with a glass of water.

  Kenya took the tablets and swallowed th
em down with the water before glancing at Lucas.

  He was so tall, dark, handsome and imposing, but he’d also been her savior tonight. He’d saved her from being brutally raped, and she wasn’t sure how she could ever repay that debt.

  Looking at him through the mirror behind her, she just said what was in her heart. “Thank you.”

  He understood, nodded and squeezed her shoulders. Seconds later, the bathroom was empty, and she was alone.

  She emerged thirty minutes later through a cloud of steam. In the shower, she’d turned the water on as hot as she could take it, and then she’d just stood there as if she could somehow rinse the entire experience away, but she couldn’t. It had happened, and she was going to have to deal with it.

  “You okay?” Lucas asked as he sat on his bed waiting for her. He’d begun to get worried when she hadn’t come out after a time.

  Kenya nodded. “As good as can be expected I guess.” She noticed that he too had showered and changed and was wearing pajamas. He sat upright with pillows bunched up behind him. Kenya felt self-conscious in her robe, because she was wearing nothing on underneath. She stood shifting from foot to foot, unsure of what to do.

  Lucas moved the comforter aside next to him and beckoned her forward. “C’mon, come to bed.”

  Kenya didn’t hesitate for a second because the one thing she had learned tonight was that she could trust Lucas. She walked over to his king-sized bed and slid beside him in her robe. She didn’t get too close, but laid her head on the pillow next to his. Her pounding head was starting to subside thanks to the powerful pain meds they’d given her. All she wanted to do now was sleep and forget about the night’s events.

  Lucas turned off the lamp on the nightstand, plunging the room into darkness. Kenya’s heart lurched forward momentarily, but then she felt Lucas’s muscled arms lightly circle around her, and she relaxed. Lucas was beside her, and she was safe.

  That’s when the question hit her: Why had Lucas been at Chynna’s mansion earlier that evening and not in Houston at the concert? Had he come back for her? The pain meds were working their magic, and Kenya couldn’t roll over to ask Lucas the question on her mind because blissful sleep beckoned her.

  “What did you think of the show?” Chynna asked Noah when she came off stage. She accepted the towel he handed her to wipe the perspiration off her face. It had been a good show. For the first time in a long time, she’d remembered the enjoyment she’d always had singing onstage to her fans. The dance and stage production she could do without. If it was her choice, she would be out there with a guitarist and maybe a saxophonist, but in this day and age, singers were expected to give a performance, to create a memorable event. Chynna had done that tonight.

  “You did wonderful,” Noah said, kissing her sweaty forehead as he walked with her back to her dressing room.

  “Just wonderful?” she asked, beaming up at him. She was so excited to have him on her turf, she could nearly burst.

  When fans asked for an autograph backstage or requested a picture, Chynna didn’t feel as exasperated as she’d had a month ago. Instead she happily took photos and signed her name. The time away had done her good.

  “You were phenomenal,” Noah gushed. “Best show I’ve ever seen.”

  Chynna laughed. She doubted he’d seen that many, but she appreciated him stroking her ego.

  “Great job, baby girl,” Deacon said, opening the door to her dressing room. “You’re back in the saddle.”

  Chynna walked inside her dressing room, and Noah followed behind her. “And just wait until you see what comes next,” she said, seconds before she closed her door and locked it, effectively shutting out the world.

  While in Tucson and during her stay at the spa, she’d created music she could be proud of, music like her first album, and she couldn’t wait to get into the studio to record it. But that would have to be later—tonight was all about her and Noah.

  Noah had already taken a seat on the couch in the dressing room and with his large frame; he nearly took up the whole sectional. Chynna walked over in her gown and slid both her legs on either side of his lap, and Noah wrapped his big, strong arms around her. There was a hum of sexual energy in the room, mostly from her. She couldn’t wait another minute to kiss this man. She’d gone too long without having his lips on her. She needed him now.

  Lowering her head, her mouth brushed his gently, softly at first, reacquainting herself with the feel and curves of his mouth. His lips were warm and inviting, and she pushed them apart so she could slip her tongue inside and lavish him with long strokes of her tongue.

  Noah growled. “I’ve dreamed about this ... about how good it was kissing you.”

  Then his tongue began dueling with hers for supremacy. Chynna clutched at his shirt, gripping it in her hands as an onslaught of need swept through her. She arched into him, urging him onward, and he rewarded her with a bulge pressed hard in his jeans.

  “Noah ...,” Chynna moaned. She pulled the plaid shirt he wore free from his jeans, so her hands could delve underneath, and she could feel the ripples in his back. Noah, meanwhile, was roaming his hands over her buttocks as he gripped her more firmly to him in her slinky dress.

  Chynna’s senses were so overloaded that she had no restraint and she began grinding against him. It wasn’t until Noah pulled away that Chynna realized how sex-crazed she was. She would have had sex with him in her dressing room with her entire entourage standing outside listening.

  “We need to get back to the room,” Noah murmured huskily.

  “Hell, yes!”

  Slowly, Noah rose to his feet. “You shower, and I’ll see you outside. Otherwise, I fear we’ll never make it out of this room.”

  Chynna gave a wicked smile. “You just wait until later.”

  “Promise?”

  “Baby, that’s a promise I won’t mind keeping.”

  Nearly an hour later, after Chynna had showered, she and Noah were making their way back to the Four Seasons. She’d given Deacon, Penelope and Fiona the night off and told them to go get lost until the car came to pick them up the next morning. She wanted the whole night with Noah. No interruptions.

  When they returned to her suite, the room had been transformed. There were candles everywhere, rose petals on the bed and a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket.

  “Did you do all this?” Chynna asked, glancing up at Noah.

  He shrugged even though a broad smile was on his face. “Anything for my woman.”

  “Is that what I am?” she asked, turning to Noah at her side. They hadn’t yet made any official commitments.

  “If that’s what you would like,” Noah responded, “because it’s what I want.”

  Chynna grasped Noah’s large masculine hand in her small one, and she kissed it softly. “It’s what I want.” It’s what she’d been waiting to hear.

  “Then let’s make tonight special,” Noah said. He went toward the champagne bucket, but Chynna shook her hand, holding him back. “I’m kind of thirsty or shall I say hungry for something else.”

  Noah’s brow rose. “Is that so?” he said, and before she could answer, he swept her up in his arms and carried her toward the master bedroom. He laid her gently on the bed, but that was all the gentleness he had in store because he must have been as on fire as she because he nearly tore the shirt he wore off his back and tossed it aside. He unfastened the belt buckle of his jeans, unzipped them and tugged them from his long torso. He tossed them aside until he was standing before her wearing just his boxer briefs.

  Chynna felt severely overdressed and met his actions by rising to her shins and unzipping the velour jacket of the two- piece set she’d thrown on after the concert. She saw his eyes widen in surprise when he found she was wearing a sexy lace teddy underneath. At the last minute on her way to the concert, she’d thrown in the hot little number for later.r />
  “You sexy thing,” Noah said as she slid from the bed, so she could slide the velour pants down her legs.

  The look of hunger on Noah’s face seconds later as she slid backward on the bed, beckoning him with her index finger, could have melted ice. Chynna was sure hoping Noah would help cool the burning flames she had within.

  He joined her on the bed and nuzzled the swell of her breasts from the teddy, and she cradled his head in her hands. Noah used the opportunity to familiarize himself again with her breasts by pushing the thin straps of her teddy aside so he could knead and mold them. Chynna let him take control of her breasts—let him suckle her; nibble her between his teeth until she cried out his name.

  “Oh, yes, Noah ...”

  His hands roamed her derriere and the side of her thighs until he came to the swell of womanhood that beat achingly for him. He unsnapped the teddy, freeing her to his exploratory hands and fingers, fingers that slid inside her to tease her clitoris and make her wet with longing.

  “You are so wet,” Noah murmured. He continued thrusting his fingers inside her, making her want him even more. But Chynna refused to be a participant on the sidelines. In a bold move, she flipped positions so that she was near his shaft and his face near her womanhood. She reached for the waistband of his briefs and relieved him of the dreaded material. Then she stroked his erection, skimming her fingers along the head. She stroked him faster, gripped him tighter and then she lowered her head and took him in her mouth.

  Noah groaned and fell backward on the bed as Chynna made love to him with her mouth. She bobbed her head up and down in a steadying rhythm, and she thought Noah might become undone, but instead he turned the tables. He gripped her thighs and pulled her forward toward his mouth then slid his tongue inside her. The moist softness of his tongue as he eased in and out, speeding up the strokes and varying the tempo each time, caused pressure to build inside Chynna. When his tongue sucked gently on her clitoris and he flicked his tongue over it from side to side, Chynna’s legs began to shake.