“I’ll bet. You’re not going to pass out on me, are you?”
Lifting her chin, she looked up at him. Couldn’t miss the sincere glint in his emerald gaze. The way his eyes tracked her lips. The way her body arched into him. “I don’t think so, but I did think you were someone else when I couldn’t get my door to close.”
“I’m just me,” he murmured, his voice a velvet purr. “Who’d you think I was?”
“Never mind. It’s just me. I get nervous and—”
His head tilted a scant millimeter to his right. Instinctively, hers canted as well. They were breathing the same air.
“Tripp?” she asked, wondering how that bottom lip of his would taste.
“Ashley. Please,” he growled softly, the tip of his tongue sliding back and forth over that lip. Making it shine. “It’s been one helluva day. May I kiss you?”
She’d never been asked before. “W-would you?”
Tripp closed the distance between their breaths and mouths. Softly. Carefully. His lips brushed over hers, filling her with the tenderness of a worthy male.
Ashley lifted her free hand and cupped the hard angle of his jaw. Then brushed the pad of her thumb over the bristly whiskers shadowing it, matching the strokes of his tongue on her lips with the strokes of her thumb on his jaw. Then his cheek.
He asked without asking, the tip of his tongue softly licking the crease of her sealed lips, lighting an invisible fuse between her mouth and her core.
Breathing hard, Ashley granted him a way forward. Just a tiny step into an uncharted ocean. Just a kiss. Just the wildest risk she’d taken in a long time.
Tipping her back into the muscular crook of his arm, Tripp cradled her while their tongues began a slow exploration.
She licked at the slightly sweet taste of coffee on his mouth, but along with it, her nose inhaled the faint sting of antiseptic and the mellow, dark spice of his skin. The scents of musk and male crowded out the last of her fright.
She was a woman. He was all man. Hungrily, she breathed him into the empty cavern of her lonely heart. Ashley had kept herself separate and in hiding for so long. She wanted the sunshine that glowed in this man’s gorgeous eyes. She wanted to be free again. To live!
Tripp knew what he was doing. Manfully, he lifted a hand from her arm to her neck and threaded his fingers into her hair. A husky growl moaned out of him as he took over and deepened the kiss.
Ashley canted her head to reach more of him. So he could have more of her. There was no way she could ever have all of him. This was her breaking point, the line in the sand her attacker had drawn years ago. The barrier between her living free and hiding scared. As badly as she wanted her life back, she knew the second Tripp touched her breasts or asked for more than she could handle, she’d freak. This foolish daydream had to stop. She eased back, broke the kiss, and ended the fairytale before it broke her heart.
He took the separation well, moved his mouth to her forehead and pressed a breathy, fervent kiss there. Which put her nose in his chin. Breathing in all those salty, sexy, masculine pheromones helped her whisper, “I’ve never been with a man before.”
He didn’t laugh, didn’t even smile. Just eased far enough back from her face to let those sexy greens melt deep into her soul. “And I’ve never been with someone like you, Ashley. You’re so beautiful, so damned good.”
Ashley took his head between her trembling fingers, needing him to know he was wrong. Licking her lips, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Honesty was going to hurt.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Tripp watched Ashley suffer through whatever was troubling her. He’d seen plenty of frightened people before. She was that pretty fox in a trap, with no way out but to chew its foot off. So, he gave her a way forward. “I’m not pushing. Whenever you’re ready.”
Besides, he already knew what she’d gone through. A woman didn’t survive an assault like she had Friday night without a few night terrors.
When her head came up, two bright, shining orbs of teary self-recrimination stabbed his heart. But he also read guilt in those pretty eyes. Which pissed him off. She wasn’t guilty for what happened Friday night, damn it. It was bad enough that society blamed females for the heinous crimes committed against them, and the automatic guilt they assumed. That damned scarlet letter A. She didn’t need to blame herself.
He’d heard the lies and outright bullshit before. If they hadn’t been in the wrong place at the wrong time, they wouldn’t have been raped. They shouldn’t have gone to their favorite restaurant or bar alone. They shouldn’t have smiled at the wrong guy. They were out at the wrong time of day or night or week. Their skirts were too short, their hair too long, or their walk too suggestive. Their hips too wide, their breasts too voluptuous or too small or what-the-fuck-ever.
But the worst one yet, spoken by mothers and fathers, police officers, counselors, and judges alike: ‘Boys will be boys.’ And a boatload of other male-privileged bullshit that allegedly defined women in general—not the fuckin’ creeps who violated them. That was what created repeat offenders, the juveniles who’d bragged about assaulting females, then got off on reduced plea-bargained sentences, only to do it again as adults.
“Maybe someday,” Ashley answered, her voice so damned timid, it hurt his heart.
Once again, a deep, raging primal need to exact bloody, heart-rending revenge on her Friday night aggressor all over again filled Tripp’s being. To avenge Abdul Ikram, another lost soul who’d never stood a chance in this world where ‘might made right’. Thugs and bullies everywhere used innocents for their own vile agendas. Whether to overthrow governments or just to prove they were bigger and meaner, it was the same ugly story. The world was full of predators. All that stood between them and innocent lambs were highly-trained shepherds like Tripp. Which was why he hunted at night.
Yet Ashley wasn’t as helpless as she believed. Yes, something had frightened her tonight. She may even have scared herself, like she said. But she’d been magnificent when she’d walked up and slapped that stupid health notice in his face this morning. What the hell happened since then? Was it him? Had he scared her that badly? Just by standing up for himself?
He had to know. “Where’d you go to college?”
She made a funny sound in the back of her throat, like she couldn’t swallow. Or she was choking.
When she didn’t answer, he told her what he could. “That’s all Jameson and I wanted to talk with you about earlier, kiddo. After your panic attack this morning, combined with the crazy serial killer we’re after, I had the craziest notion...” He shook his head at his own stupidity. “Call me paranoid, but I jump to conclusions sometimes.”
“What serial killer?” she asked, her voice soft and timid.
He swiped a hand over his face and chin, not wanting to worry her more than she already was. But she might as well know. “That’s why I met with Mark and Director Chase. Two years ago, there were three murders in Alexandria, all committed by the same guy. The victims were college girls, and the FBI believes the killer’s active again. Director Chase thinks he’s re-enacting his first murders, only this time, he’s going after prostitutes.” Like my sister...
Tripp caught the sigh that breathed out of Ashley. The way she seemed to relax at that news was interesting. Peculiar, but interesting.
“Anyway…” He cleared his throat. “The reason I asked what college you graduated from, is because the first three women this jerk stalked and killed were coeds at Northern Virginia Community College, and…” Shit, should I even tell her what I thought? She’ll think I’m crazy for sure then. Here goes… “Anyway, I thought you might’ve been one of his victims. Guess one woman got away from him. She went to the free clinic, which is right near where you work. But they never got her name, and she refused a rape kit, and I thought maybe that woman was you. I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t.”
He scrubbed a hand over his head. What were the odd
s? Astro-fuckin’-nomical. Like, out of this world, not even remotely possible. It sounded crazier by the second, even to him. “Never mind. Forget it. Like I said, I tend to overreact sometimes without thinking. I do that a lot.”
Although, something she’d said earlier today came back to him. When he’d asked if she had someone to talk with about what happened Friday night, she’d distinctly sputtered ‘doctor,’ but then snapped her mouth shut, as if she’d said too much. Were they even talking about the same thing?
Tripp looked closer. Was he right after all? Had she been assaulted before Friday? Was she the missing fourth victim? He stopped talking. It was Ashley’s turn.
The silence between them stretched. He watched her pulse flutter in the hollow of her neck, making him sorry he’d pressed her. Until at last, closing her eyes, Ashley blew out a ragged sigh and scraped her fingernails over her forehead, another unconscious tell she employed when she was worried.
He leaned into the side of her head. “Whenever you’re ready, kiddo. What I’d like to know now, is how you’ve come so far and done so much with all this baggage dogging you?”
“I told you. ‘How to Scare Yourself for Dummies.’ I’m that dummy. I could write another book on that stupid confidence builder: Fake it ’til you make it. Whoever came up with that line is an idiot. It doesn’t work so well.” She finally met his gaze. “Least, not for me.”
“You mean that bright-eyed, confident… what’d you call yourself? A trained…?”
“A trained public health educator. I call people—”
“Idiots, you mean. You call idiots like me,” he teased.
She nodded, but admitted, “I don’t believe that notice anymore. Like you said. It’s not true, and I’m not notifying anyone else until I can verify what we’ve been told. I need to do some fact-checking first.”
“Thank you,” he murmured. “But are you telling me that beautiful, trained, public health educator, the amazing woman who has the audacity to march out of her apartment every day, with her head held high, and who smiles at the world like she loves everyone in it, is a fraud?”
Ashley’s lips pursed, then twisted to one side of her mouth. “Yeah. That’s me. I’m the world’s biggest fraud.”
“Oh, no, you’re not, and you’re not a victim, either.” Tripp took careful hold of her jaw, his fingers laced over her ear and into her hair. He tipped her quivering chin up with his thumb, until Ashley had no choice but to look at him. “Trust me, honey, I’ve seen victims before, and you’re nothing like them. You’re a winner. A survivor. You are faking it, and you are making it. So what if confidence doesn’t come back in a day or one month, or even in a year? What you think you’re lacking, you’ve made up for in courage. In bravery, girlfriend. That’s what they call people who march out of their homes and away from their families for war. They’re heroes, because even when they’re scared as fuck they’re going off to die, they do it anyway. They’re called brave, Ashley. It takes a shitload of courage to do what you’ve been doing. Can you do it for just one more day?”
“You called me girlfriend.”
Out of everything he’d just said, she’d picked up on that. “That’s what you are to me, Ashley. I mean after today, what should I say? Hey, you?” Tripp was trying so hard to make her smile again.
Those beautiful sapphire eyes blinked. “I get up extra-early,” she murmured, “just to talk myself into going to work. Every day, I look in my mirror, and I tell myself I’ll be okay. That I can do it. ’Course I never leave my apartment until everyone else is going to work, too. I don’t go into elevators alone with guys, and I don’t let men into my apartment. I’m very careful. Same way at five o’clock, but in reverse. I travel home in crowds, Tripp. Never alone. Until tonight.” She licked her bottom lip. “Won’t do that again.”
“Yes, you will. I have faith. You and that can of mace will go far.”
There it was. Finally. A real smile. “Does being scared count as being brave?”
Tripp grinned. “I’ve got news for you. Every last one of us soldier-types is scared shitless sometimes. Deep down, we’re just boys doing men’s work. Now talk to me. Tell me what you can, and I’ll tell you what we know.”
“That fourth woman…” Ashley’s bottom lip disappeared behind her top teeth. “Sh-sh-she… she, umm, didn’t get away. He’s the one who got scared. He just l-l-left.”
Hot white rage exploded inside Tripp. “You are the fourth victim,” he rasped, his throat so damned dry, he could barely speak. Shit, damn, and son of a bitch! I was right. I knew it!
“Yes…” She forced another noisy swallow. “I left my door unlocked one afternoon. I was expecting Mac. I had a late class, and at that time, I didn’t have a roommate. I was alone. He just came in like he owned the place. At first, I thought h-h-he just had the wrong apartment but… Then he grabbed me. He kept asking if I wanted to p-p-play.” Her voice trailed away.
“The bastard,” Tripp hissed, so damned angry he could barely see straight. But he refused to frighten Ashley now that she was talking. It took a few seconds, but he came to his senses and toned the angst-filled rhetoric down. But she’d been assaulted—twice! Two gawddamned times! “Sorry, kiddo. Go on. Tell me what you can. I’ll be quiet. Who’s Mac?” Until I find that fucker and rip his head off!
“Okay, umm, well then…” Ashley trembled, she was so nervous. “Mac was the maintenance guy where I used to live. It was an older home near the college. We’d arranged for him to replace my thermostat, only… that other guy came. He didn’t look like a r-r-rapist. I mean, he didn’t have tattoos or piercings or scars, anything weird I could see. He wasn’t particularly ugly, but he wasn’t what I’d call cute, either. He looked boring. Normal.”
“What color hair and eyes?”
“Light-brown hair, but weird gray eyes. Light gray. Like fog.”
“How tall was he?”
“About my height. Ordinary build. Not muscular or handsome, like…” Her gaze dropped when she said, “…like you.”
She blushed the prettiest strawberry pink, and for some stupid reason, Tripp’s all-male body sucked in its gut and flexed its muscles. Not on purpose. It just happened. Reflexively. Like blinking and breathing and thinking of Ashley. Of breathing in the sweet scent of her hair and feeling the sensational softness of her skin beneath his fingertips.
It was time to move. They were still sitting together on her couch. Trying not to be obvious, he eased her off his lap and set her next to him. Tripp kept one arm around her shoulders, and he hoped—man, how he hoped—she hadn’t noticed what was going on under his zipper.
“Anything else you can remember? Like how old he was?” he asked, wishing he sounded like Joe Friday, the emotionless cop from those old time “Dragnet” reruns. Instead of the sometimes baritone, sometimes tenor, sixteen-year-old jock he was sure he’d just devolved back into.
His physical reaction was expected. Instinctual. Typical male response to a pretty woman. Tripp couldn’t help it; he had no more control over the bad boy in his pants than he had over the chill in the autumn air. But his emotions were something else. They were all over the place. One minute he was pissed as hell. The next, so damned tender and worried for her that he wanted to cry at all she’d lived through. By her damned self!
He ached to keep her as safe as he was going to keep Trish from now on. Wished he’d already killed the pricks who’d hurt both of them. And Tripp would kill them. On the job or during his late-night shift. With every quiet explanation out of Ashley’s mouth, every last inch of him hardened into a lean, mean war machine. His knuckles couldn’t clench any tighter. The guy who’d hurt these women would pay. In blood and guts, by hell.
Real men stood up for women. Period. That was how he’d been made, raised, and how he would die. A defender. Never a coward. Never a bully. Okay, so he had a full-blown hero-complex. He had been an Army Ranger, damn it. That’s who he was.
“Did you hear wha
t I said? Tripp? Hello.” Ashley was looking up at him again, that same soft glow in her eyes, her fingers lightly tap-dancing on his wrist to get his attention.
“Ah, excuse me. Sorry, no. I ahh…”
“Please don’t be angry with me.”
“I’m not. Why would I be?”
“Because I didn’t do what you wanted.”
“So? You’re a grown-assed woman. I’m not the boss of you.” Damned if he didn’t hear Mother coming out of his mouth.
“But if I’d stayed at your office, none of this—”
Tripp covered Ashley’s lips with his whole mouth, just closed his eyes and swallowed any excuse she might come up with. Two things were abundantly clear. Ashley Cox was that one in a million, and he wasn’t going to let her blame herself.
He kept this kiss wet but quick, ending it with a throaty purr that came out of nowhere. “I need to visit my sister and mom tonight. Trish is still at the hospital. Come with me?”
Ashley looked up at him a little cross-eyed, which made her sexy as hell. “Umm, w-w-what?”
He loved that he’d put that star-struck hitch in her voice and the just-been-kissed shine on her lips. “Come with me. Mom’ll love to meet you. She needs someone in her corner.”
Ashley’s fingers drifted through her hair, pushing it away from her face and over her shoulders. “Umm, sure, I guess. But what happened?”
Oh, that’s right. She didn’t know. Tripp gave it to her straight. “I think the same guy who hurt you two years ago attacked my sister tonight. She’s been in emergency surgery, which is the only reason I left. Trish is going to live, but she’s got some serious trauma to deal with and—”
“And you didn’t say anything to me until now?” Ashley nearly shrieked.
Thump. Poor Peewee fell off his perch again.
“Relax. Mom needs some good news and, honey…” He pressed a kiss to Ashley’s forehead. “I think that good news is you.”
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