God, he hated that word. Alleged, nothing. These cops had solid evidence, damn it. They had solid proof that this guy had assaulted Ashley. They’d located and bagged the bastard’s knife, for God’s sake. It had her blood on it. He’d hurt Ashley, could’ve killed her. She had cuts and bruises from his hands on her arm and neck to prove it. What more did they need?
Alleged, my ass. In the end, Tripp knew it might still come down to her word against that bastard’s. And if he came from money, his crime could be dismissed; he might get a slap on the wrist or have to perform a few hours of community service—or less. How much leniency did men like him deserve? None, as far as Tripp was concerned. Who the fuck else sliced her neck?
It was the same story since the beginning of time. When money talked, assholes walked. Tripp’s tenderized knuckles stung, but he’d like another go at the guy. Someone needed to teach him a lesson.
Tripp didn’t fade to black until she was safely out of the public’s view and inside the ambulance. Until those two EMTs climbed in with her and closed the gate.
It was sheer dumb luck he’d even been there tonight. If not for his decision to intervene in what could’ve been the beating deaths of two college kids, he wouldn’t have come this far west. He usually stuck close to the pubs and boutique restaurants farther east on King Street, along the Potomac River.
Halloween and autumn decorations were everywhere, soon to be replaced by Thanksgiving and Christmas, then New Year’s Eve, décor. Tourists were easy marks, especially at this festive time of year. They were plentiful at the other end of this street. So were grifters and pickpockets. Tripp was glad he’d followed his heart and rescued those two young men tonight. If he hadn’t tracked them to the clinic...
A full-body cringe roared over him and shivered up the back of his neck at what would’ve happened. Ashley would’ve been a statistic come morning, a blip on the news channel. Which made him more certain of his calling. He was the sword of vengeance, by hell. His boss might send him overseas or across the country on company business, but wherever he went, Tripp would never stop protecting innocents like Ashley.
Pretty name for the tiny thing she was. He’d been plenty pissed with her at first. What had she been doing alone on the street after dark? Women, more than men, needed to learn how to protect themselves. The world had changed. It wasn’t safe, not that it ever had been. She should’ve been at home with some big, brooding hulk who would’ve protected her and held onto her…
Like me.
He shook his head at the stupidest notion he’d had in a long, damned time. Big and brooding, yeah, that was him all right. The Army had made sure he’d bulked up, and his sister had sure as hell given him enough to brood over.
But Tripp McClane was not the settling-down type, no sir. He didn’t do easy pick-ups, dates, or long-term relationships, either. Hell, no. He was focused, and he had one mission in life. It, not some woman, would always come first. He was like a priest. A monk. He’d pledged his life, his blood, and everything he owned, to Lady Justice. He was that last thin line between right and wrong on these streets, between evildoers and the righteous silent majority. He would dispense punishment, by God, in Seattle, Washington, DC., or wherever. Time and location didn’t matter. Wherever he went, he’d never slack off, not when good people needed him. Someone who’d stand in the shadows, unseen but deadly and ready to put psychotic killers, rapists, and power mongers down. Just as ready and able to rescue those who needed rescuing. Like Abdul.
Like Ashley…
Damn. When he’d lifted her off the ground, she’d been trembling, crying, and scared to death. That was when he’d realized she was more child than woman. As light as a fawn, with big, expressive, innocent eyes, she’d been close to falling apart.
He knew he’d frightened her. It was too bad she’d seen what he’d done to the idiot who’d body-slammed her. Tripp felt sorry about her witnessing that. But he didn’t give a flying fuck about that guy. Saving her virtue, possibly her life, was all that mattered. Ashley Cox was alive because of him, and she’d get over seeing the punishment her would-be killer/rapist had received. He’d only gotten a small portion of what he deserved, but Tripp would be watching from now on. The next time that scurvy little bastard assaulted anyone, he’d wake up in a shallow, unmarked grave. Tripp would make sure of that.
But Ashley... Damn. He couldn’t get her out of his head. A sigh breathed out of him remembering the feel of her delicate, quivering body in his arms and on his lap. Of how she’d melted into him, trusted him. Of how she smelled. Wind and cherries were now a sensual lure lingering over the surface of his mind, like a fisherman’s fly teasing the rivers and streams. He was the trout, hunting and waiting below. Watching. Hoping.
Yeah, no. Hope had nothing to do with why Tripp hunted these streets and alleys. That frightened woman with tears in her eyes and blood on her neck, she was why he did what he did. Ashley was soft and feminine. Unsure and timid. She needed to stay that way.
Okay, so yeah, maybe it was because she’d leaned into him... Maybe it was the scent of her hair… Or the way her heart pulsed at the hollow of her slender neck... Aw, hell, maybe it was just that she’d been so much in need of a man like him tonight. Tripp didn’t know. Yet all those feminine nuances called to something he’d shoved down so deep in his soul, he thought he’d never have to deal with it again.
For sure she’d never recognize him the next time their paths crossed. He wasn’t that kind of lucky. Or smart. Smart would be to quit this one-man crusade against evil and to search out the better half of himself. To believe in love again. To settle down and stop fighting the whole damned world. Hell, he was surrounded by a team of happily married guys at work. Every one of them had something he didn’t. While he knew there were better things to do with the rest of his life, he also knew his crusade was worth doing. If not him, who would save the defenseless? The naïve and silly-hearted? The normal people who had no clue how ugly life was?
The ambulance flashed its red lights, but no siren screamed as it pulled away, which was damned decent of those EMTs. They’d make sure Ashley got the care she deserved. She was safe with them now. She’d be okay. It was time to call it a night.
Dragging a hand over his head, Tripp smoothed his black beanie off and ruffled his hair. Into his rear pocket the beanie went. The streets were safe again. For now.
Chapter Four
In the darkest shadows, from across busy King Street, he watched, drooling at the luscious scene that had just unfolded. He’d just finished with his latest treasure. Left her where the local police would surely find her. After all, they were still looking, weren’t they? Stupidity ran deep within the ranks of Alexandria’s so-called finest. If the police were any good, they would’ve caught him last time. Or the time before that. But they hadn’t, had they? No, and they were no closer to catching him this time, either. He knew the game. They, obviously, didn’t.
My, but she’d grown more beautiful these last two years. Her hair was longer, silkier. Her voice, more tender. Almost melodic in its terror. Such a delightful morsel and, coincidentally, a woman he remembered. The one that got away…
Destiny, that was the name for coincidental meetings like this. A man could rely on destiny. She pointed out patterns most people didn’t see. She supplied signs and prognostications. Promises…
He hadn’t known the name of this playmate when they’d met before. But he did now. Ashley Cox. It had a lovely ring to it.
Perhaps the behemoth who’d saved her tonight might check on her later? He seemed like the type, as carefully as he’d handled her… As softly as he’d spoken to her. Wasn’t that what heroes did? Wasn’t that their pattern? Their style? Their destiny? To keep track of the poor, sweet victims they rescued? To take advantage of their two minutes of fame before they overcame their prey with lies and innuendo that would ultimately end with them in the same bed?
But for now, Ashley Cox—Oh, he loved that name!�
��was safely hidden out of sight and on her way to some nearby hospital instead of home. He had no choice. If he wanted her, he’d have to follow the fellow who’d saved her. Surely, he’d lead the gallant way to Ashley’s hidey-hole. What’d she call him, her guardian angel? Her hero? Not likely. That big guy was only a means to an end. The end of Ashley Cox.
Chapter Five
Ashley drew in another deep breath, then blew it out, sending her black bangs flying out of her eyes and off her face. The rest of her long locks stayed put in the ponytail she’d curled into a good, tight knot at the back of her neck. It was early Monday morning, and she’d just survived one heck of a long weekend. The people in her office would never believe what happened Friday night. Not that she’d tell them. Well, she might tell Terry, her boss. But then again, she might not. Not about the attack outside the Health Department. Certainly not about the dark angel who’d rescued her. Heavens no. One lesson she’d learned early, the less people knew about her personal life, the better off she was. No sharing ensured no office gossip.
Man, she was never staying late again. From now on, her cell phone was programmed to chirp every half-hour all afternoon on work days, reminding her to leave on time with the rest of her co-workers. Talk about scary.
She hadn’t wanted to stay overnight for observation at the hospital, either, but the ER doctor had insisted after he found out she lived alone. He’d been worried. She had a small concussion, which explained why her head still throbbed more than the shallow slice on her throat stung. Actually, once her avenging angel had bandaged her, she hadn’t thought of her neck again. Only how warm and sure his hands had felt on her skin. How adeptly he’d cleaned the shallow slice, then applied that sticky gauze. How he’d smelled of spearmint and musky male. How he might have kissed her if only...
Her lungs expanded at those delicious memories. Of all the men in the world, she’d met someone who resembled an archangel. Wasn’t that just her style? Hide from every other guy, never date, never even think of dating or going out for coffee or… anything. Then find a man worth taking the risk, on the worst, well, second worst, day of her life. Only to realize he wasn’t from the same planet or dimension or… whatever.
Ashley shook her head, dismissing those crazy thoughts. Not going there. The adventure was behind her. The cut was already healing. She smoothed her hand over her neck to prove it. Because of her buttoned-up collar, no one would ever know she’d been attacked Friday night. It was Monday morning, and she had a job to do. She was Alexandria, Virginia’s one-of-a-kind, outreach coordinator, and she could do this. Deep breath.
Autumn weather was humid, not yet unbearable. It’d be the perfect day if not for the nasty task at hand. But she’d get it done, by heck. She’d already called Terry. He knew she’d be in late, that she was handling her assignment. She was prepared to face down any belligerents who might not appreciate the invitation she was about to extend to them. There were three men on her list of bad boys who’d thought they could defy Health Department orders. Not anymore.
She was strong. She was determined. What happened Friday night would not get her down, not like that other time. That encounter had nearly ruined her. To say she’d come a long way from the traumatized woman she’d been back then, was like saying the hurricane currently stretching up the Florida coast was a spring shower. There was a day not long ago she never would’ve stepped outside her apartment, not even to go to work. But a woman couldn’t let past mistakes define her. She knew that now. Not that she’d made a mistake that day. She hadn’t. But after two years of extreme caution, mixed with months of confidential counseling that her employer offered, she was ready to take her old life back.
Okay then. Another deep breath. If one of these three men thought they could push her around once they heard what she had to say… Well, her trusty can of mace was back in her over-the-shoulder messenger bag, and this time, she’d use it. It was unfortunate the men on her list hadn’t yet responded to her phone calls or written notification to come in for check-ups and blood tests. They should have, or she wouldn’t have to pay them personal visits today, would she?
Deep, deep breath. Then another and… Oh, fudge. Inhaling that deeply was only making her dizzy. Hyperventilating wouldn’t satisfy her nervous body’s need for O2. It wouldn’t get the dirty job ahead of her done any quicker, either. The only way was through.
Yeah, yeah, yeah…
Ashley glanced down the empty hallway of her safe, secure apartment complex, contemplating a round of good old procrastination. But that wasn’t her style, either, and…
Oh-kay then. You got this.
No, I don’t.
But you’ll still do it. You always do what you’re told. You’re a good girl. Why change now?
There is that…
Despite her upbringing, or maybe because of it, Ashley girded up her invisible loins of courage, swallowed hard, and knock, knock, knocked on the sturdy apartment door next to hers. Unfortunately, it belonged to her neighbor, the to-die-for handsome, sandy-blond haired man, with shoulders so wide he had to let them pass through doorways one at a time. Mr. Tripp McClane. She was sure he was former military, and that he’d been created with muscles to spare. But the absolute last way she’d wanted to meet him was by handing over the incriminating, accusatory invitation in her now sweaty hand.
This was all his fault. His failure to comply was the only reason she was here today. If he’d answered any of the numerous calls, emails, and letters she’d sent him, he could’ve saved himself, and her, a ton of embarrassing trouble. But since he hadn’t, she was here to make sure he knew he had to be tested. The sooner, the better. Privately, by a doctor of his choice, or by one of the doctors at the clinic. It’d be free, and it would only take a couple minutes. No one else would know unless he told them. He just had to be a man and man up and… Do. It.
A rowdy gang of street urchins, Ashley’s gentle term for ladies of the night, which was another fairly obtuse misnomer for prostitutes, had recently invaded the lovely, tourist-friendly streets of quaint Alexandria. Because those enterprising women had taken their kind of stalking to a fine art, a veritable epidemic of STDs now walked the streets in stilettos and glitter bombs, another euphemism for those silly, sequined push-up bras they all wore. What a stupid fad.
While APD had corralled, arrested, and pretty much cleared the streets of those troublemakers, it was now up to the conscientious PMC notification officer—Ashley—to track down and notify their, ahem, johns. And she had to do it today, before the men on her list contaminated others with their disgusting body parts.
Ashley cocked her head, sure she’d heard grumbling inside her neighbor’s apartment. “If you don’t talk to me now,” she told his door sternly, “I’ll just come back tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. It’s my job, but it’s not my fault. It’s yours. So, open up and take it like a man.”
Wow, that almost made her sound tough. She knocked again, louder this time. Determined, darn it. Wielding that official piece of paper like the sword of truth it was.
Another, louder noise came from inside. Pressing her ear against the polished wooden door, she listened intently. Wait. Was he cursing? “For the love of God, what now?”
My heck, he was swearing. Well, too bad.
The door jerked open. Inward. And there he was, the same vision she’d glimpsed before, when he’d marched down the hall in all his tanned, golden glory, probably on his way to work. Her neighbor. Mr. McClane. The guy she’d only seen coming and going. From behind. His broad shoulders and straighter erect back were worth noticing. So was his butt. His long legs—
“Oh, it’s you,” he said more politely than the intense scrutiny in his green eyes declared. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”
Ma’am? Me? He almost sounded respectful.
“I, ahh…” The official notice crunched in Ashley’s palm. She had no more words. Her eyes were too wide. The mouth-watering scene standi
ng in front of her was too… too. He’d been working out or something. She must’ve interrupted him. That was why he’d cussed when she’d knocked. Sweat still glistened on his forehead. His short hair was spiked and wet with it. A single, flesh-toned butterfly bandage peeked above his left eyebrow.
The silly desire to lick the tiny droplets trickling down the steel cords of his neck, before they disappeared beneath the round collar of his short-sleeved t-shirt, made Ashley shift her feet. The shirt couldn’t begin to cover the mounded pectorals beneath it. It was white, well, semi-white, since it was darkened with perspiration, between those pecs, and under his arms. He had mounds and mounds of biceps. The hems of that shirt’s armholes showed off those tremendous curves quite nicely. Quite nicely indeed.
Knee-length workout shorts drew her attention down over the roped thickness of his muscular thighs to his bronzed kneecaps. This guy was gloriously tanned in all the best places. My gosh, his calves were as thick as her thighs. She blinked, trying hard not to stare.
This man is nothing but fool’s gold, her inner, prudish-self reminded her.
Yeah, but… Ashley took a step back, her tongue bone-dry, and her crazy heart hop-scotching up her throat like a three-year-old on a sugar high. “I, ahh…” Don’t remember what I was going to say. When in doubt… “Hi, there.”
“Hey,” he replied quickly. A titch of impatience resonated in that one word. He lifted one massive arm and stabbed four straight, bronzed fingers over his head, raking his damp hair back from the most beautiful, angular male face she’d ever seen. Wide, clear, but sweaty forehead. Straight, slender nose. Arched light-brown brows Ashley wanted to trace with her fingertips. A firm chin masked by golden stubble, darker than his hair. More brownish-red than sandy-blond. What a delightful combination. It looked soft and touchable. Was it?
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