Sweet Backlash
Page 13
"I know," she agreed. "I made a mistake." She wanted to disappear. Hide somewhere forever where Keith Bethson would never find her.
He rushed over and took her hands. "No, you didn't know. Don't punish yourself."
She glanced at the five remaining boxes. "I'd like to go through them tonight. I've been putting this off since I got them. I need to do this."
"I'll go through them with you. This is going to be fine. He'll get out, check in with his parole officer, make a stupid mistake like visiting a friend who's in possession of drugs or something, and go back to the pen. It happens all the time. Next time he comes up for parole, we'll do everything we can to see he doesn't get it."
"You'd do that for me?"
"Melony, I'd do that for you." He pulled her off the couch and into a hug. "I'd do that for you," he repeated quietly.
Chapter 20
Chip sat up and rubbed his stiff face. Beside him on the sofa bed, Melony slept. She had stayed. Smiling, he glanced at the wall clock. Seven o'clock. He would let her sleep another half hour. They had gone through the boxes until eleven o'clock, then she had packed it all away while he fixed them a light dinner. She had stretched out on his bed and talked about what she had endured until she fell asleep shortly after one o'clock. She had a long, tiring day ahead.
After throwing together a quick coffee cake and putting it in the oven to bake, he started a pot of coffee and got a shower. Shaved, but still in a towel, he poured two cups and dished two pieces of cake.
He shook her shoulder. "Wake up, sleepy head. I made you breakfast in bed."
She rolled over with a yawn. "You spoil me." Propping her pillow against the couch back, she sat and accepted her plate and cup. "I can't remember the last time I slept so well."
Chip sat in the chair and took a sip from his mug. "I wish you could sleep longer."
"Me, too. We've got a trial prep meeting on the Jones case this morning. Can't call in sick."
There was an idea. "Maybe you should."
"Call in sick?" she asked, one eyebrow quirked at an odd angle.
"Sure. I've got my car, and I'm not afraid of Frank. Today's a big day for you. Stay home, lock yourself in, and I'll fill you in on the prep tomorrow at the office."
"You're not serious. I can't knock around here, knowing Keith Bethson is getting out today. I'd go crazy. It'd be all I could think about. No way. I'm going to work where I won't get two seconds to give it a thought." She took a forkful of cake and closed her eyes. "I swear, you missed your calling. You should've been a chef. This is heaven in my mouth."
"I thought I was heaven in your mouth," he teased.
She grinned. "You are. Come here and I'll show you."
She joked, which said a lot for her steady frame of mind. His johnson stirred and he silently cursed. He'd started something he hadn't finish. He'd really wanted to slake his need of her the night before, but under the circumstances, he couldn't ask it.
Disappointment laced his tone when he said, "We don't have time. And you'd better get moving if you're going to work."
Melony sighed. "You're right. Too bad."
He finished breakfast and got dressed. He sat and waited, listening to her sounds in the back bedroom. She moved slowly. He couldn't help wondering if all this was worth the trouble. Frank, cuffs, whips and leather, a collar and leash every time they went out. Now this business with Keith Bethson. What a nightmare.
He rubbed his eyes. The attack and torture wasn't her fault. If it had happened to him, he didn't know that he would've turned out as well. He only knew two women who came close to having the strength Melony exhibited. One was a professor at law school, and another was a Massachusetts Supreme Court judge. He tremendously admired both.
Melony was different, though.
Yes, she knew what she wanted. Yes, she had survived a terrifying ordeal. And yes, she had made the decision and taken the steps to end her role as a victim. What set her apart was the way she touched him. The way he cared.
During these last three days, she had scared him, frustrated him, pleasured him, and shown him a better time than he'd seen in his thirty-two years. She energized him, intrigued him, and tugged at his heart. When she crumbled last night, he hadn't wanted to be anywhere but holding her. Yes, she was worth it and more. He didn't just admire her.
He was falling in love with her.
When she came from her room, he could only stare. He loved her. He sat unmoving, struck by the realization. By the time she headed for the door, they had to hurry or arrive late to work.
All day, he fought the urge to take her somewhere private, get her alone and naked. As the day progressed, dark circles formed under her eyes and she began to wilt. By three o'clock, she just stopped. He went to her desk.
"Bethson's out," she said without looking.
"I know. Do you have a minute to come to my office?" He didn't like her pale countenance.
Without a word, she collected a pen and notepad and followed. He closed the door and indicated she should sit in one of the chairs facing his desk. In his own seat, he tried for a casual posture in case anyone watched through the glass wall. Folding his hands behind his head, he brought a foot up to a knee and leaned back with a rocking motion.
"Don't ask me to go," she said as if reading his mind.
"I have to. You don't need to be here right now."
She faced the windows overlooking the street but closed her eyes. "How could they let him go free?"
Chip scooted forward and pressed his palms together on the desk between them. "I made some calls this morning. I'm expecting to hear from the attorney who managed your case. Magliari, I think is his name. I got it from a brief in one of your boxes. We're going to figure a way to send Bethson back."
She shot him a hopeful look. "Do you think there's a way?"
He didn't know. "There's gotta be. We're going to try, anyway."
Holding up a hand, she said, "I know. No promises." She lowered her arm and added, "But thank you. It means the world to me."
"Good," he said with forced cheerfulness. "Now, go home. I'll catch a taxi."
"I'm not leaving," she said. "I can't."
"You're not doing anyone any good by staying." He wished she'd go home and take a nap. At this rate, the stress would make her sick.
"I don't want to be alone right now. Please understand." Her dark eyes went liquid and pleading.
Chip nodded. "I do understand. How about we get you away from your desk? Do you have any filing?"
"That would be good. I've got a stack of Answers that need to go into client files." She blew an imaginary hair off her forehead.
"Perfect. I'll check on you in a little while." As she left his office, he worried. She didn't look healthy.
An hour later, he popped his head into the file room. She gazed at him from bloodshot eyes, and a greenish gray tint surrounded her lips. He didn't say a word. In his office, he sent a quick e-mail, forwarded his phone to voicemail, and grabbed his briefcase. He stopped by her desk and got her purse.
At the file room, he said, "Come on. We're going."
Melony pushed a thick file into the stacks. "Where? To the law library?"
She came to him, and he took her by the elbow. "No. We're going home. I sent an e-mail to Debra saying I need you to drive me to meet with the mechanic working on my car."
Resisting his hold, she argued, "I haven't finished the filing."
"Finish it tomorrow." He handed over her purse.
"But—"
"Have you seen how you look?" Did she have any idea the toll this day had on her?
"Why? What's wrong with me?" She frowned, making the green hue to her skin deepen.
He stopped at the door to the ladies' room. "Take a look. I'll wait."
With a funny pout, she went in. She came right out. "Yeah, let's go."
In the garage, he held out his hand. "I'm driving."
She took her keys from the purse and pressed the unlock button on the remo
te. "I'm not an invalid. I'm just having a bad day."
He shook his head. "Oh, is that what this is?" Reaching for the keys, he said, "I'm serious."
Yanking them out of reach, she said, "So am I. Get in." She pointed to the passenger door.
He stood studying her a minute, weighing whether or not he wanted to take on this battle. She looked like hell, but she sounded fine and her attitude remained healthy in spite of today's challenges.
Conceding, he got in and set his briefcase at his feet. "Fine. But I'm not wearing the leash."
"Right now, I could care less." She slipped into the driver's seat.
"What do you think about stopping by the video store? We can pick up a couple DVDs, stretch out on the couch, and be lazy until bedtime." When she seemed reluctant, he added, "We'll order a pizza."
"That sounds really good." As they pulled out of the garage, she slumped against her seat, some of the tension leaving her features.
"Everything's going to be fine, Melony," Chip reassured. He hoped, anyway.
* * * *
Melony took Chip's suggestion and changed into red flannel pajamas. He was full of good suggestions today. She brushed her hair then put it in a ponytail. It was strange how her limbs seemed so heavy, as if she moved through water. She wanted to sleep, but it was too early.
Near the living room, Chip draped his tie over the shoulder of his jacket and hung it in the coat closet. "Popcorn?" he asked.
"No, I'll just have pizza." She hoped she had the energy to eat it. Distracted, she couldn't even remember what movies they had rented. "What are we watching first?"
"I'm thinking Harry Potter. What do you think?"
She flipped open her cell phone and hit the auto dial button for the pizza parlor. "Works for me."
While she called in the order, he put the DVD into the player then went to the kitchen. "Will a twenty cover it?"
She set the phone on the end table. "I got it," she said, moving to get up.
"Don't even think about it." The microwave beeped and he stepped in front of her. He handed her a steaming mug.
Cinnamon sweetness rose in the steam, making her mouth water. "You made me tea. I didn't even know I had any."
He smiled. "You didn't. I picked it up when you left to get the wine." Chip kissed her forehead and she jerked.
The only person who had ever kissed her forehead was her mother. Tilting her face, she stared at him and wondered what he meant by it. The gesture held a deep intimacy, yet it gave absolutely no sexual overtones. Did it mean he didn't desire her anymore? Had her confession last night reduced their association to friendship? The idea depressed her.
"Hey." She set the cup on the table next to her phone and grabbed his shirt. "Thanks for the tea," she purred and pulled him to her level.
She didn't have to ask. He came right to her, his lips covering hers in a kiss that removed all doubt of his attraction. On his knees, he eased between her thighs and covered her, pushing her to the sofa's cushioned back. His mouth commanded her response, his tongue invading and engaging hers in a passionate duel. It took a few minutes of his devoted attention for her body to respond, but soon, her skin tingled and her blood surged through her veins.
Consumed by his caresses, his mouth devouring hers, the smell and taste of him, she lost a sense of reality. He lifted her to a place where only touch and sensation existed. When the doorbell rang, she broke away with a gasp.
He stood and gazed at her. "I should've done that at the office when you looked like Night of the Living Dead. You look delicious, now."
Wow. Delicious? She grinned, no longer sluggish and sleepy.
Pulling his wallet from a back pocket, he went to the door and retrieved the pizza. "Hope you're hungry," he said, carrying the box over.
"As much as I adore pizza, I'd rather have something else right now." She waggled her eyebrows at him.
He sat at the other end of the couch and set the box between them. "You can't believe how much it hurts me to say this, but no. Not tonight."
She sagged with the letdown. "You don't want me?"
He gave her an ironic smirk. "Melony, I want you so much it hurts. Literally. But you're exhausted. I don't think you realize it."
Turning her attention to the images of movie flashing across the menu screen, she couldn't argue. She wanted him, but she could wait. It helped knowing he still desired her. Her stomach rumbled at the scent of pepperoni and warm bread. Opening the box, she drank in the sight of dinner.
Halfway through the movie, with a full belly and the downed tea soothing her nerves, she couldn't keep her eyes open. She didn't care that it was only eight o'clock. She went to bed. While shuffling to her room, she hoped she'd wake in the middle of the night, refreshed and horny, so she could wake him and ease his literal hurt.
Chapter 21
The sound of breaking glass woke Chip from a deep sleep. Swinging his legs off the bed, he blinked a few times to get his eyes to focus in the dark. Melony probably broke a vase or a lamp, but he needed to check to make sure she didn't get cut.
As he headed toward the hall, he checked the clock. Twelve-thirty. What was she doing awake in the middle of the night? With a small smile, he wondered if she'd slept enough to feel up to some midnight fun, especially since she'd wanted to earlier.
Before he reached the hallway's end, scuffling sounded behind her door followed by a low, male growl and a muffled squeal. He stopped in mid-stride, instantly awake. His mind whirred into activity. He considered attempting to break down her door. He suspected he would fail, however, suspecting the cops who did it on television only succeeded through bullshit theatrics.
He raced to the living room and grabbed her cell phone from the end table. He hopped with one foot as he pulled on the gray sweat pants from the night before last. Making his way to the coat closet, he dialed nine-one-one. He slid his feet into leather loafers. A loud thump against her bedroom wall had him out the front door before the emergency operator answered. He had to get into her room.
He gave the woman on the line all the information while running out the building exit and around the outer wall of the apartment. She told him to stay on the line, but he had to get to Melony. Closing the phone, he shoved it in his pocket and eased toward her window.
Glass lay in splinters and shards across the sill and in the grass. Light spilling through the gaping pane showed a streak of blood on the metal window frame. His drumming heart leapt to his throat. Inside, an evil chuckle made his skin crawl. Chip went closer.
Melony lay on a huge, black cherry, four-poster bed, her eyes wide with terror and one wrist bound with thin, white cord to the thick post of her headboard. Struggling, she tried to prevent a tall, skinny man from capturing the other arm. The blond man, dressed all in black, chuckled once more.
Chip recognized him from the trial video. Keith Bethson climbed on top of her and grasped her flailing hand. "We're going to finish what we started, Melony, dear," he crooned.
She shot daggers at him with her eyes and shook her head. Duct tape across her mouth reflected light from a nearby lamp.
Chip brushed aside the broken glass from the sill and heaved through the window. "Get off of her!"
The man spun from the bed and flew at the window. Tucking his head, Chip thrust forward and rammed his shoulder into the attacker's middle. He used his momentum to propel Keith across the room.
Melony screamed behind her gag, and Chip glanced over his shoulder. A knife arced toward his back. Extending his arm, he caught the criminal's wrist and prevented a stab. Sirens approached and red flashing lights reflected off the window frame.
"Your gun!" Chip fought to hold the man while avoiding the blade. "Where's your gun?"
Keith broke free. Grunting, he reared back and brought the knife down again. Chip ducked and dug his heels into the carpet, shoving the attacker against a dresser. Someone pounded on the apartment door.
Then a bang reverberated.
His ears ringing,
Chip released the criminal. A round wound in the man's forehead trickled blood. On the bed, Melony gripped a pistol with her one hand, her chest heaving and her nostrils flaring. In the distance, men shouted and car doors slammed. Chip took a step back, expecting the attacker to drop. He didn't.
Keith growled. With a fierce scowl, he launched toward the bed. Chip dove for his feet but missed.
Another shot rang out. Then another.
Keith stopped short as if he had hit a wall, and slumped to the floor.
"Drop the gun! Now!"
Chip jumped to his feet. A police officer stood at the window, a gun trained at the bed. "I called for help," he said. "She fired in self-defense."
The officer didn't take his eyes off the bed. "She still needs to drop it."
Chip turned to her. She was frozen. Her right arm stretched awkwardly behind her where the cord bound her wrist and her left pointed a gun at Keith.
"You need to put it down," he told her.
She shook her head.
"Drop it!" ordered the policeman, nearly screaming.
"Give her a second." Chip walked slowly to her side and peeled the tape off her mouth. He longed to untie the cord, but the officer already seemed on edge, and he didn't want to make the man more nervous. "Sorry about that. I'm sure that tape hurt coming off."
"I can't let go of my gun," she whispered. "I need you to take it from me."
The officer muttered a curse and holstered his gun. "Don't touch it," he told Chip.
"Wasn't planning to," he said, taking a seat next to her. "I thought you were right handed."
"I am," she answered, her voice monotone.
An explosion sounded in the apartment, startling him, then the bedroom door burst open and three policemen rushed in. Okay, so they could kick in a door. Chip shook his head, feeling like an ass.
"Drop it!" yelled one of the officers, pointing his gun at Melony.
The one crawling through the window said, "Relax, Bruce. I've got it."
Bruce lowered his gun but didn't put it away until the weapon was pried from Melony's fingers. With the pistol out of her grip, she slouched. Chip wrapped an arm around her and waved a policeman to untie her wrist.