by Aden Lowe
Fear, quickly hidden, flashed in her gray eyes. He had made no effort to speak with her throughout the day, giving her plenty of time to build up fear of his anger. "Of course." She slipped her hand into his arm and allowed him to lead her away.
Fuck! He drew her into a service corridor, away from the crowd, removing my reason to hang close by her. He would be a fool to harm her now, with so many people within earshot. So I lingered at a discreet distance, the same as the Senator's security man. The two of us stood and waited, just outside the door to the hall.
I ran my finger under the collar of my shirt, ready to ditch the fucking tie. "You ever get used to the suit and tie get-up every single day?"
My counterpart smirked. "No, but it funds the things I actually like to do, so I deal with it."
"Heard that. When this thing gets far enough along for him to get Secret Service protection, you got big plans?" My efforts to get close to someone on the Senator's security detail had met with varying degrees of success, so I couldn't afford to pass up the opportunity. This guy seemed my most likely source of intel.
"I'm staying on. He wants his own people, loyal only to him. With all the black marks against the Secret Service in the last couple of years, he doesn't trust them."
I filed that information away for later. "Don't blame him. The last administration has let shit get way out of hand."
The door behind us swung open suddenly, interrupting the conversation, and Richardson headed back to the party. I waited, expecting Lauren to follow closely. A half minute passed with no sign of her, so I ducked into the hall.
She sat crumpled against the wall at the far end of the corridor, past the kitchen entrance.
I flipped the lock on the door to the party, drew my 9mm, and hurried to her side. "Lauren? What's wrong?"
She shook her head rather than reply, and her loosened hair fell to hide her face. A blood droplet fell to the white tile of the floor.
Alarm shot through me. "You're hurt. Hang in there, I'm calling for help."
"No!" The shrillness of her voice surprised me. "I'm fine. I just want to go upstairs now." More blood fell.
Rage shot through me, but I concealed it. "Okay, I'll make sure you get there safely." I tugged the white handkerchief from the breast pocket of my jacket, and extended it to her. "Here, let me help."
After a long moment, she tipped her head back, eyes closed, to reveal a split lip and bloody nose. "I was so stupid. I didn't think he would hit me with people so close."
I nodded. The mistake was mine in thinking the same thing. "Let's get you upstairs and patched up. Here, keep this over your mouth and nose, and keep your head down." I helped her stand. "We have to go through the ballroom to reach the elevators. Anyone asks, you've come down with a stomach problem."
She nodded and took a step, only to flinch and nearly fall. "I don't think I can walk that far. I twisted my ankle when…"
Damn it. "Okay. I'll carry you. Just keep your face turned in, and covered. I'll say you have a severe migraine."
She nodded again and allowed me to pick her up. I cradled her carefully against my chest, made sure she was covered, then spoke into my comm unit. "Hey, man, clear me a path. I'm coming out of the corridor. She has a bad migraine, can't walk. I'm carrying her through to the elevators."
"Affirmative."
As soon as I pushed through to the ballroom, the Senator rushed up. "Lauren, are you okay?"
Her body tensed in my arms, but she nodded a little. "Migraine. I'll be fine."
"I'm taking her upstairs, Senator. I'll make sure she's safely settled in with some Tylenol." The temptation to set Lauren down and beat the piss out of the coward made me tremble, but I hid it.
"Thank you, so much. Mitch, will you go up with them, make sure no one bothers them?" The Senator turned to my counterpart. The man nodded. "Good, thank you. Lauren, feel better, darling." The hand he laid on her shoulder was meant to look comforting for his supporters, but I saw the way his fingertips dug in, exerting painful pressure.
Lauren moaned with pain, and he released her. His security man went ahead, clearing the way, and I strode after him, furious and ready to kill.
We went up in the elevator without a word. She didn't move, except to relax a little into my arms. Mitch opened the suite with the keycard. "You got it from here?"
"Yeah, we're good. Thanks."
He gave a quick nod and headed back down.
I placed Lauren gently on the sofa and went in search of ice and hand towels. "Here, let's get you cleaned up." I pressed a cool washcloth to the corner of her mouth.
"I-I'll be fine. You don't have to stay."
"I'm not leaving, so get used to it." She accepted that far easier than I expected. "Want to tell me what happened?" I already knew, but I needed her to say it.
She shrugged a little. "Jared wanted me to wear green tonight. The dress had a rip, so I wore this one instead. I should have asked first."
"He got mad that you didn't wear the right dress, so he hit you?" I couldn't keep the anger out of my voice. Bullshit. This was retaliation for her breaking up with him.
"It wasn't his fault. I knew better. Black makes me look washed out." The resigned tone in her voice sounded like her will was crushed. What happened to leaving him? That seemed like she was ready to double down and just take it.
"Listen to me, Lauren." I touched her chin to make sure she looked at me. "You could wear a feed sack and be fucking gorgeous. You were the most beautiful woman in that room tonight. He was jealous. And now he knows he's losing you."
Her eyes widened. "No, you're being sweet, but I know—"
"It doesn't matter. He hit you. That's never acceptable. Remember?" I stopped talking before I got any more pissed, and concentrated on cleaning the blood away, and giving her ice to hold on her face.
With that taken care of, I turned to deal with the twisted ankle. The sexy shoes came off easily, despite the already substantial swelling. I hurried with ice, wincing when I spotted the angry bruise already forming on the side of her delicate foot.
"Don't move. I'm going to find Tylenol." As soon as I moved away, I tapped my comm unit. "Let the Senator know Miss Johnson is settled in safely for the night. I'll make sure no one bothers her."
"Affirmative. Good job."
Next, a quick text brought X-man to cover the hall outside her suite. With everyone assuming she was safely tucked away for the night, ill, someone might think they had the perfect opportunity to make another try.
Chapter seventeen
Trick was wrong. He couldn't protect me. Not from Jared. He would find ways to hurt me when Trick could do nothing to prevent it. Like tonight. No one could protect me, and for some stupid reason, my body refused to follow my demands to protect myself.
I'd been stupid to think I could tell Jared it was over, and not pay the consequences. He was not the sort of man who tolerated not getting his way. I knew that, of course. Since we met, I'd seen him, time after time, deliver his wrath upon some poor clerk or intern, or household staff. Why on earth would I expect him to treat me differently?
When he asked to speak with me, and led me out of the ballroom, I knew my little grace period had come to an end. He made no effort to see me during the day, and I allowed myself to hope he would let our relationship end peacefully, quietly. I should have known better.
His words in that service corridor still left ice in my veins. "Your watchdog can't be with you every moment, Lauren. When I end things, I do it permanently. So you had best be certain you want our relationship finished. This is the only second chance I will give you."
Like an idiot, I repeated myself, telling him it was over, and as soon as we went back to DC, I would have no further contact with him. Part of me realized the depth of his anger, and still, I insisted, rather than pretend to take my rash words back.
That was when he hit me, then pinned me to the wall. He demanded I tell him why.
Fear should have kept me quiet, but it
didn't. Instead, I blurted out how I refused to be his punching bag, and that I realized I had never loved him. Stupid. I should have tried to make peace with him, but I antagonized him further.
He hit me again, and brought his heel down on the side of my foot with crippling force. As I crumpled to the floor in pain and terror, he laughed. "We're having lunch with the Governor and his wife. Be ready at one."
I sat there for what seemed like hours, before Trick came and found me. And during that time, I came to understand. Jared had no intention of allowing me to get away before he was finished. For the time being, he needed me to further his ambitions. When he had no further need for me, I would be discarded, and not before.
Trick had been so sweet, trying to take care of me. Regret filled me. He shouldn't have been dragged into my mess. Now, Jared hated him, and I knew with a deep certainty, Trick would not escape unscathed. He had stood between Jared and me, and Jared would not let something like that go.
My ankle throbbed, despite the Tylenol Trick gave me, and the ice he insisted I put on it. I probably wouldn't be able to walk tomorrow. It presented a serious problem at the moment. I needed the bathroom badly. Nothing but huge, empty space, with no handholds, stood between me and relief.
Could I hop that far on one foot? I had my doubts, but no other alternative occurred to me, and the situation became more urgent with every passing moment. With no choice, I scooted around on the sofa until I could push myself to stand on one foot.
I considered myself relatively fit, but half a dozen hops smashed that illusion. My good leg burned and ached with the strain, and the injured foot and ankle throbbed like mad. The bathroom seemed as far away as when I started.
I took another hop, and battled to keep my balance. Reflexively, I put my bad foot down, and cried out from the pain as the floor came rushing to meet me with a thud. I tried to break the fall with my hands, but pain shot through my wrist and I still hit my head on the floor. Everything went blurry as tears flooded my eyes. Low curses and strong hands lifting me barely registered through the pain.
"What the hell are you doing, Lauren?" Trick's voice penetrated the fog.
Embarrassment heated my cheeks, along with everything hurting. "I needed the bathroom."
His frown cleared up immediately. "Shit, I should have realized. Let me help you." He carried me to the bathroom.
At least, once he brought me there, I managed to take care of things for myself, with him waiting outside the door. Humiliation made me wish for a rock to crawl under, but with no time to spare, I had to swallow it and try my best to ignore the thought of Trick listening. Finished, I washed my hands, and before I could make my way to the door, Trick tapped softly and opened it.
"All done?"
"Yes, thank you. I never imagined it would be so difficult to hop a few feet."
He scooped me into his arms once more and carried me back to the sofa. "Let me see that ankle again." It wasn't like he gave me a choice. Strong, warm fingers wrapped around the upper part of my ankle. After a careful inspection, he probed gently at the side of my foot, drawing a pained hiss from me. "Lauren, what happened here?" He indicated the nasty looking bruise.
I didn't want to tell him. It was bad enough he knew about Jared hitting me. Somehow, the injury to my foot humiliated me far more. "I guess I hurt it when I twisted my ankle."
"Bullshit. I can see the marks, made by the tread of a man's shoe. Did he kick you?"
I shook my head, deeply aware how pathetic I must look to him. The words threatened to suffocate me. "He…stepped on my foot, hard."
"This needs to be x-rayed. Where can I find more comfortable clothing for you?"
"Trick, I can't go to an ER. This stupid fundraising thing is on the local news. Someone will recognize me, and it will cause some kind of nightmare scandal, and make Jared even angrier." The thought twisted my stomach threateningly.
"Let me worry about that part. I'll make sure no one knows." He straightened from where he bent over my foot. "Now, comfortable clothing?"
I sighed. This seemed like a battle I wasn't going to win, and I was worried something might be broken. "In the bedroom."
Without a word, he scooped me up and carried me to the bedroom, and deposited me on the bed. "Now, where?"
I managed to direct him to a T-shirt and yoga pants. While I got changed, he went into the other room. The low rumble of his voice reassured me in a way I couldn't define. I just felt…safe. He would take care of me.
"Ready, Lauren?"
"As ready as I'll ever be, I think." I hadn't thought of how I would get downstairs, and when Trick picked me up again, I gasped a little.
"Hold on. I'm taking you down the service elevator, and Jones will meet us with a car."
His scent enveloped me, clean and masculine, a hint of spice, and made me want to bury my face in the side of his neck. I shouldn't want that, shouldn't crave closer contact with him. Trick was the first man to show me true kindness, other than Poppy. Maybe that was why I wanted his touch so badly. Had Jared created this need in me by starving me of true affection?
Uncomfortably conscious of the strong beat of his pulse at the base of his neck, I forced myself to remain stiff in his arms. I had to find a way to maintain a safe distance from him. Even though I told Jared our relationship was over, the public wasn't aware of that. No one knew other than Jared and Trick, and I refused to put Trick in a position where people might vilify him. The way he touched me, showed such gentle consideration, meant nothing to him, anyway. He was a nice guy, and he didn't deserve the way people would look at him if anyone suspected more than a bodyguard/client relationship between us.
Trick's arms tightened around me slightly, bringing me out of my troubling thoughts. "Relax a little. I won't drop you. Promise." The wink and grin he gave me sent my pulse racing.
"I know." God, my voice sounded breathy, like some starlet in a B-movie.
"Then what's wrong?" His expression changed to a slight frown of concern.
How could I tell him without making him as uncomfortable as me? "I just don't want to put you in a compromising position. If anyone sees us, they'll assume…"
His eyes darkened. "Assume what? That all I can think about is touching you? That I want you to the point I don't give a damn about what anybody thinks?" He paused and squeezed his eyes shut, as if he'd said more than he intended. "Well, they'd be right."
My breath caught in my throat. "Trick—"
"You don't have to say anything. I know nothing can happen. Now relax. I can exercise a little self-restraint."
Before I could reply, the elevator came to a bumpy halt and the doors slid open. After a quick glance around, Trick carried me out, and down a short, wide corridor to a set of big double doors. He turned to hit the push bar on the door with his back and slipped us outside to the suffocating heat still trapped between the buildings.
A car idled nearby, and I recognized Jones in the illumination of the security lighting. He must have caught my puzzled expression at the appearance of the car. The aging Honda might once have been dark blue, but the paint was faded, and rust replaced a good bit of it. Jones smiled. "It's borrowed from a nice lady in housekeeping. Using one of the campaign cars would mean signing it out, and providing a destination. Trick said this little field trip was Top Secret."
I smiled in relief. "Thank you. I wouldn't have thought of that."
Trick placed me gently in the passenger seat, and leaned in to hook my seatbelt. The position, with him looming over me, felt incredibly intimate. "I want you, too." The words came out in a rush, while I tried to clamp my lips shut over them.
He drew in a harsh-sounding breath, but did nothing else to show he heard me as he withdrew. "Hands and feet all inside?" He closed the door almost gently.
God, I was so stupid. I shouldn't have said that. He might be physically attracted to me, but that meant nothing. He probably wanted absolutely nothing to do with me, beyond that.
The driver's side d
oor opened, and Trick folded himself into the small seat beside me. "Ready?"
"Not really, but okay." The drive to the ER passed in awkward silence. Acknowledging my attraction to him had put a huge, uncomfortable wall between us. The easy banter, the friendliness, had died.
Trick parked near the entrance. "I'm carrying you inside, and I'm not letting you out of my sight. You okay with that?"
I just nodded. This time, I felt even more awkward in his arms, but I tried not to let it show. At registration, he asked for a supervisor, rather than allow me to fill out the paperwork. The supervisor came in, and he asked if we could speak with her in private. She seemed suspicious, but led us from the cubicle to an office.
"What can I do for you?"
"First, I have to have your word that what I tell you will be held in strictest confidence. No one can know."
The woman pushed her glasses to the top of her head. "If it involves commission of a crime, or a person in danger, I can't make that promise."
"It doesn't."
She nodded. "Okay. Go ahead."
"Miss Johnson is visiting here, with the Richardson campaign. She was injured earlier, and needs treatment, but we have to keep anyone from knowing she's here. That's to protect your hospital, Miss Johnson, and the campaign. We'll be paying cash. Can you accommodate us?"
"I can, although it's not our usual process. We do sometimes have people come in who refuse to identify themselves, and need emergent care. We have them sign in as John or Jane Doe, and I witness the document." She thumbed through various folders arranged in racks on one side of the room, and pulled out several forms. "If you'll fill these out, I'll get you into a treatment room."
An hour later, I listened as the ER doctor explained to Trick that two small bones in my foot were, indeed, broken. So much for Jared not finding out. A tech came in, wrapped my foot with a bulky bandage, covered it with a wrap, and fitted me for a boot. This was going to look just wonderful with my dress for the lunch with the Governor and his wife tomorrow.