by Jo Raven
A strong grasp at my wrist brought me back to the present. The caveman pinned my arm against the wall, right over my head, before reaching with his other hand to swoosh the soap off my palm into his and started washing his chest. Part of me wanted to stay there and watch him lather up his muscles, draw his hands over his abs and lower to wash every inch of him, but another part knew that it was my time to leave and let him be. For the first time since I’d first seen him, he was moving on his own, without guidance and without a prompt.
Drenched, I stepped out of the shower and around its corner and leaned against the wall. Panting, I lowered my hands to my knees, struggling to fill my lungs to their depth. What the hell had just happened? This man had taken me into his world so quickly, completely making me forget who I was and where I was, and that only a few minutes earlier I’d been disgusted to look at him or acknowledge him. But seeing him so vulnerable and at my will did something in my chest I hadn’t felt in a long time. I hadn’t seen that kind of dependence in a man in years, and it tugged at all the right parts of my heart. I had no choice but to help him; and damn Emma. She knew this would happen, too. Well, not the shower part—that was an accident. I hadn’t done that with any of the charity work she’d brought in from Cross Enterprises—ever.
Quickly removing my soaked clothing, I changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a tank top. I’d need to go commando for the rest of the day and without a bra, as I had not planned on showering in the only underwear I had with me. Just as I buttoned up my pants, the shower turned off. The caveman stepped out in his naked glory and my jaw dropped open. He was all lean and washed, and water dripped off his muscled body as if it were oiled. His tan was perfect, but he definitely needed a trim—everywhere. Wet, dark curls clumped on his chest made that swirl of tattoo on his pec a bit clearer. Trailing lower, down a narrow alley, I couldn’t help but follow his appetizing path. It took a while before I was able to hand him a towel to dry off, because in all honesty, at this moment, my imagination was torn from the Stone Age to him and me, right down on this floor, with me letting him do to me as he pleased.
I had a feeling the caveman would become much more than another charity case and I was afraid of what that meant, or more so, of what I wanted it to mean.
CHAPTER 2
Peeking inside his bag, I thanked the Lord it contained clothes as I wasn’t sure I could find anything large enough around this salon that would fit him.
“You need to change.” I pushed the bag against his chest. Boy was he ever hard. But Caveman remained still.
“Listen, I know you can understand me, and I’ll only say this once. I can’t… I mean, I won’t dress you. You need to get dressed yourself. And I’m sending in someone to help you shave and trim your nails and all before I can cut your hair.”
All of my hair stylists were booked up. Besides, I couldn’t let them work on him. They’d never forgive me for giving them a low-class job. I, on the other hand, had had more than my share of experience with low-income hairstyles. And honestly, at this point, I was curious myself to see the face he hid under that beard of his.
And I guess my asking him to suit up didn’t help. He was like a frickin’ statue.
“And Frankie’s into men. So if you don’t want to be taken advantage of, you better put some clothes on.”
A crooked smile lifted on his mouth. I tried to keep my eyes focused on his face because wandering any lower would mean I’d need to look at that sinfully built body of his and if I did, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to function properly for the rest of the day, or even a week. In response to the look in his eyes and another sign of understanding I lowered the backpack in front of him, inadvertently catching another glimpse at him below the belt. My stomach tightened as unexpected excitement filled me. I rushed to stand up, getting light-headed.
“Good. I’ll… They’ll call me when you’re ready for me. I mean, for my cut. A cut, ready for a cut.”
And I left him. For his sake I hoped he’d get dressed. Breathless, I made my way over to Frankie who had just finished with his last appointment and was ready to go out for lunch.
I tapped him on his shoulder, saying, “I need a favor.”
Frankie spun around on his heel, the purple tips on his blond head shimmering in the light. “Anything for my girl.”
“There’s someone in the back who needs the works.”
“The works” was a code word for this one needs everything done.
“Who is it?”
“He’s not a celebrity, but he’s in need of a major cleanup. I had him shower in the back. And I need you to keep this quiet so that other clients don’t get scared.”
“Let me guess. Emma was here?”
“Yup. Please, Frankie, you’re the only one I trust here not to spill the beans about our place taking on more than people of high stature. And this caveman could definitely ruin me.”
“Caveman?” Frankie’s brows rose and eyes widened with sudden interest. He clapped his hands as if he were a kid getting a free pass at a toy store. “You should have said that in the beginning.”
“It’s not what you think. He looks like he literally played with a saber-tooth this morning.”
“And did you go for a swim in the lake with him?” He pulled on my wet strands of hair, suddenly curious about my lack of style.
“No,” I lied. “I need to get my hair done too. Just send him over when he’s all trimmed and shaved and waxed, ready for a cut. And Frankie, I owe you.” I gave my friend a hug. He’d been with me since the day I opened my business, when he stepped into my store in reply to the help-wanted advertisement in the window. Fresh out of beauty school, Frankie was looking for someone to give him a chance, and I was looking for someone with his talents and people skills to take my business to the level it was at now.
“You owe me nothing, honey. Please get yourself looked after, or you’ll start scaring clients as well.”
“Thank you.” I strolled over to Frankie’s station at the side and started blow-drying my hair. As the sound of the hot air muffled everything else around me, a memory of the caveman’s taut body flashed in my mind. I should have at least asked Emma to tell me his name and what had happened to him. I’d wondered what he’d been through to get to the state of numbness he was in. And did it really only take a scalp massage to revive a part of him? Once every few months Emma had brought someone over for a haircut or a makeover. And most of the time they were women who’d been hurt by sex traffickers or abusive husbands and rescued by the branch of Cross Enterprises headed by Allie, who was Emma’s sister-in-law. And, up until now, Emma had been the one who took them back to rehab. Why all of a sudden was she so insistent on my driving the caveman afterward? Her job was her life. While Emma may not have been assigned the cases she wanted, my friend was a wonderful private investigator at her family’s firm.
I removed the business card Emma had given me from my back pocket, noting the Inpatient care for mental health treatment description of Holland’s Wellness Center, with an address and a phone number. Was the caveman not all there in his head? A tumble of nerves swept through me. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten so close to him? Was he dangerous? Part of me thought that was a possibility. The tight grip on my wrist had initially scared me, but the gentleness with which he tucked my hair behind my ear and removed the soap from my hand eased my worries. How would they deal with him at the clinic? Would they feed him pills and make him go to therapy?
I guessed now that Emma wasn’t coming back I’d need to drive him there after work. Yet part of me wondered whether the kind of mental health treatment they were trained to provide was what my caveman needed. I shook my head. He was not my caveman. It didn’t seem like he’d been physically hurt, either. Whatever had happened had locked him inside, and I was able to break through his shell with a simple scalp massage. I wasn’t an expert, but he didn’t look like someone who was afraid, so whatever trauma he’d witnessed or experienced must have affected him to the cor
e.
A loud bang and the sound of breaking glass shook through me as someone yelled, “Everybody put your hands up!”
“What the hell is this?” I said to myself as the cries and screams of my staff and clients tore through my salon and I realized we were being robbed.
Shit!
I sneaked behind the wall by Frankie’s last station and hurried to the back on all fours. Chelsea stood frozen in place. “Gimme your cell,” I whispered, pulling her down under a table set with fresh towels. “Stay there.”
At the front of the salon glass broke and equipment crashed to the ground. They were making their way toward the back.
Pure adrenaline rushed through my veins. The sounds of falling furniture, threats, and soft cries grabbed me by my neck, momentarily choking me. I couldn’t give up now. I had to do something. Dialing 911, I spoke into the phone without waiting for the official “911—what is your emergency?”
“We’re being robbed. They have guns. I’m on 365 Fifth Avenue. Please hur—” The feel of a cold metal tip at my head froze me in my spot.
“Put the fucking phone down.” The deep voice rose goose bumps at the back of my neck.
I slowly raised my arms, dropping the phone. It crashed to the floor, breaking apart.
“Where’s the safe?” the man behind me asked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Stupid me. They obviously knew about my stack of cash. Why wouldn’t I cooperate? Why wouldn’t I give them what they wanted? Because I’d once before promised myself that I would never be a victim again. Memories of that dreadful day floated back and I forced all the courage I’d gathered over the past twelve months to the forefront of my mind.
The man lowered his gun, thrusting it into my rib cage.
“Don’t play fucking stupid with me. We know you’re the owner and hide your cash in the back. Now where’s the safe?”
His voice sounded familiar, but for the life of me I couldn’t place where I knew it from. A ski mask covered his face, yet during the brief moment I got a glimpse of his eyes, I couldn’t help but feel like I’d seen them before.
“My clients pay with credit cards.” Despite the small shake in my voice I sounded pretty brave. I knew I was being stupid. I should have just taken him to my office and given him the money. But that stubborn part of me refused.
“Not all of them.” He jutted the gun right between my ribs, forcing me to move. Without a doubt I’d have a bruise there, that is if I was alive at all. Afraid of startling him, which would cause him to press the trigger, I slowly shuffled my feet toward my office in the back where I kept my safe. While it was true that most of my clients paid by credit or had a specific account, most tipped with cash, which was kept under lock and key. And of course I only emptied my safe once a week because I liked spending it on my staff’s lunches, on celebrations, and to cater to last-minute wishes of celebrities. It had been five days since I’d been to the bank. There had to be a few thousand dollars in there. But how did they know? Who tipped them off?
“Look, I’m not a threat and that gun is hurting my ribs. Can you ease up a bit?”
“There’s no need to be brave, Gracie. Just give me the money and we’ll be on our way out. You’re coming with me, sweetheart.”
It had been so long since I’d heard anyone refer to me as Gracie. And he wanted me to come with him? Okay, now I was convinced that this was an inside job. Whoever had told this dweeb about my stack of bills had to work here. But I wasn’t a quitter, and the energy that was rushing through my veins wouldn’t let me give up so easily. There was no way I’d let him walk out of here with my hard-earned money, and with me, without a fight. I’d been through too much crap in my life to let a stinky burglar, who didn’t have enough balls to rob a bank, pull a fast one on me.
The sound of a police officer over a megaphone came from the front. “Put your hands up and drop your weapons. We don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“Fuck, Grace. This is all your fault. You did this. You called them. I promise you that everyone will blame you for their deaths.”
And that’s when it hit me. This guy was tougher than I thought. Was he seriously willing to kill for a few bucks? Had I underestimated him?
“You can still leave,” I whispered.
“The cops are here.” His stinky breath brushed against my ear and I cringed. More goose bumps surfaced on my arms, and I wished Emma were here. My kick-ass friend would know exactly what to do and could probably take this asshole out. I, on the other hand, only had my mouth and my smarts to fight with.
“There’s an exit at the back.”
Whatever was going on out the front, I knew that the officers were on the move. His buddy robbers must have given up and the police were making their way through the salon now, freeing my staff and clients.
“Show me. We’re leaving together.”
I led him through the empty hallway, noticing a couple of my employees hiding behind a tall dresser. I pleaded with my eyes for them not to move. The last thing I wanted was for anyone to get hurt. To avoid media and unwanted attention, we’d often let celebrities in through the back, which was connected to a parking garage.
“Where’s the exit, Grace?” He pushed me harder through the narrowing corridor.
“He’s got her in the back,” someone said as I opened the rear door. As much as I didn’t want him to get away with this, I also valued my own and my employees’ lives. And right now, with the gun at the back of my head, this man had all the power.
“I won’t forget this, Grace. You screwed it up and you’ll pay for it. One way or anoth—”
Someone’s foot connected with the robber’s arm and the gun flew from his hand. Sounds of gunfire echoed from the front as a heavy body pinned me to the ground, and it wasn’t the guy who’d been holding the gun. He ran out the back door.
“You’re all right, Grace. Stay still.” While the man’s voice wasn’t familiar at all, the feel of him was, and I didn’t know why. The smell of a fresh shave was intoxicating. I opened my eyes to look at the gorgeous face of a model. In my mind I went through the appointments we’d had scheduled for the day, wondering what the name of this high-profile man was. He held me caged in his arms, tightly against his chest, our hearts pounding against each other. I breathed in his scent and my head spun.
“Are you all right?” he asked. His curly hair draped over his face, tickling my skin. I wanted to reach up to move the beautifully coiled strand to look at his face some more, but my arms were restrained underneath him.
The sound of gunfire eased as police officers rushed toward us.
“Yeah, I think so. Thank you.”
My hero lifted his body off me, robbing me of his delectable heat.
“Ma’am, are you hurt?” an officer asked.
“No,” I shook my head. “The guy... he ran off through that door.”
A couple of cops pointed their guns at the door and went out on a search.
“Is everyone else all right?” I asked.
“They’re fine. They’re all out front. There’s an ambulance waiting. The paramedics can check you out.”
“Thank you. Please, take my client first.”
“Your client?” the gorgeous hunk at my side asked. I couldn’t have been more embarrassed by the situation and made a mental note to establish better security measures at my salon.
“Yes, I’m so sorry this happened to you. We’ll get you free spa treatments and a massage to make up for this.” I looked around my destroyed salon, adding, “As soon as we’re back up and running.”
When will that be?
“There’s no need for that, Grace.”
“Wait, you know me? I didn’t think we were introduced,” I said to the model. Now that the dust had settled around us and I had a better look, the wide shoulders and narrow hips and his dominating height did look familiar.
He grinned, saying, “My name is Hunter. I’m your caveman, Grace.”
CHA
PTER 3
I gasped. “Holy shit.”
Was that even out loud?
“I see I’ve graduated from it to shit. I guess that’s an improvement.”
“I’m sorry. I just didn’t recognize you. You look so different. And you’re talking.”
And you’re so fucking unbelievably hot! I added in my mind, remembering all the little details of his naked body I’d seen earlier. Now this face matched what I’d seen and made him so much more attractive.
“Yeah, I guess I am. You have a cut.” He reached to my forehead, dabbing it with a white towel. “Let’s get the paramedics to have a look at you.”
He led me out the front, where a swarm of people mingled. Some were in cuffs being shoved into the back of police cars, others were simply looking around. My employees rushed to my side as soon as I came out.
“Are you all right?” Frankie asked. “I told the caveman we should leave but he insisted on getting to you. He wouldn’t wait for the police, saying it could be too late, and I was so scared, Grace. Oh my God! I really thought he’d shoot you. The caveman was so strong. I tried to pull him out to safety—you know, someone that good-looking had to be important—but he wouldn’t budge. Those muscles were way too strong for poor little Frankie to drag out to safety.”
“Hunter. His name is Hunter.” As one of the paramedics checked him out, dabbing something to the side of his thick bicep, I couldn’t keep my gaze away from the man who had saved my life.
“Have you called Tristan Cross yet?” I asked.
Tristan was Emma’s older brother. We hired their services at times when we had movie stars and rock stars who drew more media attention. But with so many eyes on us today, I was sure the tabloids would be looking for any kind of gossip no matter what your Hollywood status was. And I wasn’t about to jeopardize my clients’ privacy by throwing them to the paparazzi hounds. I was proud of the reputable discretion at our salon and wanted to keep it that way.
“Yes, their security team will be here in a couple of minutes. The higher-profile celebrities are waiting at Caesar’s.” Frankie pointed to the door guarded by Olivier.