by Naima Simone
She glanced at Selig, seeing again the image in her mind that had kept her silent all these years. Bloody. Battered. Her nightmare had come to life. She closed her eyes briefly and offered up a quick prayer to God, begging him for the strength to save the man she loved. She looked at Selig again, this time staring longer, her eyes glancing over every feature, tucking them into her mind.
She tugged at his hold.
His head jerked to the side, his golden eyes widening as he realized her intentions.
“Baby, no,” he growled, his fingers tightening. The ache in his voice beat at her. “Don’t do this.”
She didn’t have a choice. Evil stood across from them. She couldn’t allow it to take him.
“I love you,” she vowed, twisting her wrist and freeing her hand. Turning toward Nicholas, who grinned, she took the first hesitant step across the room.
“Here.” Nicholas reached behind him, bending at the knee to snatch up a rope from the seat of the chair. “Tie him up.” He extended the thin length of rope out to her. “Do it,” he ordered.
Casting one last glance at Selig’s tortured face over her shoulder, Caitlin started toward Nicholas. Her steps were slow, measured. She could see the impatience rising in Nicholas, in the way he shook the rope at her. Knowing she had one chance, Caitlin continued her trek across the room, her hands clasped behind her back. As she passed the glass end table next to the couch, her fingers closed around the car keys she’d tossed there earlier in the evening. She shifted the keys into her palm, securing them in her hand to prevent a betraying jingle of metal against metal.
Sending up one final prayer, Caitlin shuffled closer, carefully arranging the keys in her hand so the jagged edge poked between her fingers. She brought her free hand from behind her back, accepting the rope. Excitement flared in Nicholas’ eyes, his attention focused on the fingers closing around the length of cord.
She struck.
Caitlin wrenched her arm high over her head and sliced the makeshift weapon down, stabbing Nicholas in the face. She aimed for his eye, but sensing the movement, he jerked back at the last possible second and the skin of his cheek split open under the metal, blood spurting.
Nicholas bellowed, backhanding her with a vicious swipe. Seconds later agonizing pain exploded in her head. Her vision dimmed, winking in and out as she staggered a couple of steps before tumbling to the floor.
Selig stared in horror as Caitlin dropped to the ground like a stone. Seeing her swipe the key from the glass table and then stabbing Nicholas in the face with it had paralyzed him in the throes of hell. The helplessness, the sheer horror of being able to do nothing but watch as the woman he loved neared that gun, had clawed at him, leaving wounds that would never heal. Her cry as Nicholas slapped her before cracking the gun to the side of her head obliterated his paralysis and control.
With a bellow of rage, Selig charged across the room, plowing into Nicholas’ midsection. They crashed into the wall, Selig’s momentum propelling them several feet. He clamped his hand around the wrist of the arm that wielded the weapon, forcing it down and out to the side. Selig pinned Nicholas to the wall as he smashed his fist into his face over and over again. All the rage and fear of the past several minutes surged hot with each blow.
Nicholas bucked and twisted beneath him, roaring in fury and pain. His gun arm strained against Selig’s grasp, struggling to bring the weapon back toward him. With a grunt, Selig twisted his body and rammed his shoulder into Nicholas’ chest, driving the wind from him. He didn’t have time to take satisfaction in the gust of breath that exploded from Nicholas’ lungs. He shackled both hands around Nicholas’ hand that clutched the gun. Using every ounce of force he could muster, he leaned into Nicholas’ wrist, bending it back into an unnatural angle. Nicholas roared, but continued to hold the gun. Selig ground his teeth until his jaw ached and rocked into Nicolas’ wrist once more. A sickening crack emitted from beneath him at the same moment Nicholas wailed. The gun clattered to the floor.
Relief surged through him, the force of it sapping his strength. Nicholas took swift advantage of the momentary weakness. Bowing his body, he heaved Selig from him, insanity lending him power in spite of his broken hand. The first blow to his chest staggered Selig, giving Nicholas a chance for another punch to his stomach. The third one Selig caught. As Nicholas’ arm arced toward his face, Selig nabbed his forearm and using his momentum, fling him forward to crash into the back of the couch.
They exchanged punches and kicks, Nicholas hurling insults and spitting curses. Selig didn’t bother, icy rage having overcome him at the first strike.
“You can’t win, you son of a bitch,” Nicholas huffed, doubled over from a vicious blow to his kidney, “this will never be over. I’ll kill her. I’ll have her gutted.”
Selig’s fist smashed into his jaw, sending him spinning. Grim satisfaction coursed through him, the first emotion he’d allowed since they’d crashed into the wall. It was short-lived. Nicholas rolled on the floor, landing near the discarded gun. Selig dove for it the same time Nicholas wrapped his bloody fingers around the trigger. They grappled and strained, both trying to gain control of the weapon.
Suddenly, a small movement snagged his attention.
Caitlin swayed to her hands and knees, her movements uncoordinated and jerky from the blow to her head. Her hand groped toward the end table and the cordless phone. He tried to call out to her, to warn her, but then an insane giggle erupted in his ear and the gun swung toward her. With all his strength, he wrenched the gun upward, but it proved too late.
A loud crack rent the air and a red splotch bloomed over Caitlin’s t-shirt like a sickening canvas splashed with red paint. The animal roar of torment seemed to come from a great distance. He shivered at the agonized sound. And then realized it came from him.
The snap back to reality was painful. His head jerked to the side and met Nicholas’ vile and morbid grin. His glee—his obscene delight—at shooting Caitlin shattered Selig’s control. He loosened his grip from the gun and the weapon clattered to the floor.
“Now no one has her,” he whispered.
A bellow of agony and rage erupted from his chest. He backhanded Nicholas, pouring all his fear and fury in the blow. Nicholas fell to the floor, a sickening crunch telegraphing a broken nose as he hit the hard wood face first. The sight of Caitlin dropping to the floor with that bloom of red on her shirt replayed over and over in his head. It was all he could see. That and the grin.
Nicholas would never stop. He would never…
Selig straddled Nicholas’ back and with one arm around his head and the other encircling his neck, wrenched it with all his might.
Nicholas’ lifeless body slumped to the floor. He took only one moment to stare at the body sprawled in death. In the very next instant he dashed across the room, dropping to the floor to drag Caitlin’s limp body in his arms.
“Please, baby,” he moaned, pressing a kiss to her cheek, her forehead, “hang on. Please don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.” He grabbed the phone she’d been reaching for when Nicholas shot her. Fingers shaky, Selig fumbled the phone a couple of times before managing to dial 9-1-1. When the operator answered, a sob ripped out of him.
“Please,” he pleaded, “help her.”
Epilogue
Damn, who knew you used your abs for so much?
Grimacing, Caitlin lowered herself on the edge of the hospital bed. Several slow and careful slides later, she perched on the firm mattress. She glanced down at her stomach as if she could see though her shirt to the bandage beneath. Twelve days later and she was on the mend, but too much activity caused a dull throbbing around the wound. Like now. Definitely time for more pain medication. Too bad they couldn’t pack that medicinal plunger to send home with her. Wonderful invention, that.
“Hey.”
Caitlin glanced up at the hospital room door. Her breath caught in her throat. Would she always have this wrenching in her heart when she saw him? Selig hadn’t
left her side since the night Nicholas had attempted to murder them. When she’d awakened two days later in the hospital, he’d been sitting in a chair pulled close to the bed, his head resting on an outstretched arm next to her thigh, asleep—with her hand clasped in his. Since that moment, every time she opened her eyes he’d been there, waiting. In the last week, Selig had been the one to walk her up and down the hallway, allowing no one else to assist her. This morning, on the day of her release, had been the first time he’d left her room without her.
And now he’d returned to take her home.
She should have felt comforted, cherished. Loved. Instead her heart ached with loneliness and insecurity. The Selig she’d come to know again—the affectionate, smiling, warm lover—had been absent from the night she’d opened her eyes after surgery to remove the bullet from her abdomen. In his place remained an attentive, yet distant stranger who never smiled or laughed. Over the last ten days Caitlin had come to feel like an obligation instead of his lover.
It hurt like hell to be a burden.
“Hey, yourself.” She smiled, cursing herself as she felt the wavering weakness and uncertainty in the gesture. “I was beginning to think you’d lost your way.” God, please let that plaintive note have been in her imagination. Caitlin closed her eyes, mortified by her neediness when it came to this man.
“Are you in pain?” Not how you mean. Her lashes lifted as Selig stepped into the room, a frown darkening his brow. The dark wings of his hair swung forward as he bent over her, pressing his palm to her stomach. The light touch had the opposite effect of what he intended. It had been twelve days and fourteen hours since he’d last touched her in passion. Her fingers itched to curl in his thick dark strands. Her lips begged to be loved by his. Her pussy ached to be filled with the thickness of his cock. She needed him. When the nightmares of that terrible night replayed over and over like a horror movie, she yearned to be held and touched—to be reminded she lived.
No one—not her parents, Mac, Alise or Selig—spoke about that night. She’d only been told Nicholas was dead. The anguished bellow that had echoed in the room before she’d blacked out still haunted her dreams. She knew who it had come from. Just as she knew Selig had been the one to mete out Nicholas’ fatal punishment.
“No, no pain,” she shook her head before those eagle eyes could delve deeper, “not as long as I have the good meds.” Caitlin avoided his gaze and pretended to search for her overnight bag. “I’m just ready to get out of here.”
“The nurse is coming now with the wheelchair.”
“Of course.” She smiled again, striving for normalcy. “Hospital protocol.”
“Of course,” he murmured, lifting his large palm from her abdomen. She almost protested. Even that small contact warmed her and she resented the loss.
A beaming nurse in pink scrubs steered a beat-up, olive green wheelchair into the room. Caitlin bit back a sigh of relief. She almost jumped off the bed before the twinge in her midsection loudly reminded her it would be at least another week before she jumped anywhere.
“Careful.” Selig cupped her elbow, scooting her to the edge of the bed where she could stand with ease. Guiding her, he lowered her into the wheelchair. Minutes later she waited on the curb outside the hospital while he stowed her bag in the trunk. Between him and the nurse, Caitlin was settled in the front seat of his car—no seat belt across the lap—a pillow tucked against her stomach.
How sexy was that?
She sighed.
“What’s wrong?” Selig shot her a questioning look as he shifted gears and pulled away from the hospital. “I thought you would be glad to see the last of that place.”
“I am. They were really nice there, but I’m more than ready to go home.”
Caitlin caught the enigmatic glance Selig slanted at her before turning his attention to the Seattle noonday traffic. He didn’t try to engage her in conversation and after a while the combination of the warm July sunshine streaming through the windshield and the soft rock music on the radio lulled her into a healing sleep.
When gentle fingertips brushed her cheek, she turned her face into the light caress, thinking she dreamed the loving touch. She smiled, letting her lips graze the fingers giving her the first pleasure she’d known since the night of the shooting. Her lashes lifted. Selig’s gaze burned down into hers and she swore she glimpsed the same hunger in his eyes that had been simmering in her for days. But as quick as the desire appeared, it vanished. His hand dropped away from her face and a shuttered expression darkened his eyes.
“We’re home.”
Before she could respond, Selig opened the car door and stepped out. In moments, he’d rounded the hood and had the passenger’s side door cracked. He bent down to help her out and with a flick of his wrist, tossed the pillow to the driver’s seat. Accepting his assistance, Caitlin exited the car with minimal discomfort.
“Well, that wasn’t too…”
Her voice trailed off. What the? She stared at the house. Confused, she swung her gaze back to Selig. He’d said “home”. Not her parents’ house, his.
She shook her head, frowning. “You said—”
“Let’s go inside.” The abrupt interruption should have irritated her. But as he led her up the walk to his home, she couldn’t muster up anything beyond bewilderment. Her heart thudded in her chest at the implication. And in the next second her mind slapped down the would-be hope. Of course he would bring her here. He felt responsible for her after all. Damn it.
She stood on the porch alternating between tears and anger. God, she just wanted to be held, cuddled, anything. She was so lonely, as if Nicholas had taken her best friend and lover from her. And left this aloof stranger in his place. If Selig’s bedside vigil and care summed up to good-old-fashioned guilt then fuck it. At least then somebody would be getting some.
Everything seemed to crash down on her at once. The unstable fluctuation of emotion. The exhaustion. The uncertainty. She wilted in the doorway and had only taken a couple of steps before Selig’s arms surrounded her. It proved too much.
All the terror, anger, loneliness and frustration she’d held back for twelve days burst forth in a violent flow of emotion. Tears she’d hadn’t been able to shed poured out of her in a torrential rain. In the hospital, she’d been afraid if she started, she wouldn’t stop. She’d been right. Caitlin didn’t know how long she stood there in Selig’s arms, fingers twisted into the front of his shirt, drenching the material with her grief. And he held her through it all. Soothing palms rubbed her back and soft kisses were pressed to her temple.
“It’s okay, baby,” he whispered, brushing his lips across the crown of her head. “Let it out. I have you.”
“Kiss me.” Caitlin lifted her face wet with tears from his chest, meeting his bright gaze. “Please, Selig. Kiss me.”
“Caitlin,” he breathed, dropping his forehead to hers, “don’t ask that of me. I’m not strong enough, baby.”
“I need it, Selig. Please.” She murmured the plea against the hollow of his throat, her tongue swirling in the dip there. His pulse slammed against her lips and the flavor that belonged solely to him exploded in her mouth. She groaned. Desire licked at her nipples like liquid tongues of fire, tightening the nubs until she lifted her hands to cup the full mounds. She tugged and pinched the tips that stabbed between her fingers through the thin material of her shirt, alleviating and firing the ache at the same time. The folds of her sex dampened, swelling in preparation for his cock pushing between the lips to the dark, clenching channel inside. She groaned again, tipping her head back in a silent plea for his mouth.
He didn’t make her wait. Selig lowered his head and devoured her. No easy gentle kiss. No treating her like an invalid. Wet and ravenous, his lips licked, nipped, delved and swirled. His fingers bunched in the hair at the nape of her neck, dragging her head back farther for deeper penetration. With a whimper, Caitlin gave him all he demanded.
Soon, it wasn’t enough. She needed m
ore.
“Selig.” She dropped her hands from her breasts, sliding her palms down his chest to the rigid erection bulging behind the zipper of his pants. She cupped him through the material, fisting his cock. With short, firm strokes, she stoked the blaze, needing him to be as out of control as she. She didn’t want careful. She wanted hungry. She wanted wild. Selig trembled against her, both hands in her hair now, pulling, tugging. He moaned into her mouth, and her sex shivered, spilling more cream onto her thighs.
“Caitlin.” Selig lifted his mouth from hers with a tortured groan. He planted several heated kisses to her lips and chin before diving deep for another taste. “Shit. Caitlin, baby, we can’t. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I trust you.” He wouldn’t hurt her. Caitlin believed that in the depths of her soul. He would never hurt her. “Please, Selig. I need you inside me. Fuck me. Fill me.” Fill not only the core of her, but her heart, her soul.
A sound of anguish and need ripped from his throat. His mouth swooped down on hers again, reclaiming what was his. With slow, measured steps he walked her to his bedroom. Never did he let her surface from the sensual spell his lips, tongue and teeth conjured. She barely noticed when they reached the sunlit room and he unbuttoned her shirt and pushed it from her shoulders. Or when he unzipped her jeans and peeled them down her legs, taking her panties with them. In seconds, he stripped, his cock jutting forward in demand instead of invitation. Caitlin complied. She wrapped her fingers around the rigid flesh, sliding her fist from the bulbous head weeping pre-come down to the wide, flared base. Selig stood there for several long moments, letting her explore and enjoy him. His jaw clenched and he stared down at her, eyes bright with pleasure. He lifted his hand to her face and he traced the line of her jaw with the back of his fingers. Caitlin’s lashes lowered at the tenderness in his touch and gaze. Her heart clutched in her chest. When he looked at her like that, she couldn’t tamp down the hope that rose up in her. Or the love. God, she loved him.