Her Protector

by Rianna Campbell

  She also realized, with Janie’s unexpected but apparently much needed help, that she didn’t have to do this alone. Connor could, would and wanted to be supportive and she needed to let him. Maybe then he’d realize she wanted to be supportive too.

  That was the other thing she’d realized. She’d been frustrated that he hadn’t confided in her the way she’d confided in him. He’d been by her side during not one, but two panic attacks. He’d been patient and sweet and understanding. He’d gone out of his way to make her feel comfortable. He’d more than earned her trust, and she hadn’t done much to earn his.

  All this whirled around in her head as she packed up and prepared to head out for the night. The jig was up about her protective detail, so she grabbed Janie and they waited together in the lobby until Jackson arrived.

  He looked adorably bewildered to see the both of them, but he covered it with a friendly smile and asked if they were ready to go.

  “Cat’s out of the bag, Jacks.” Alexandra gave him a tired smile.

  “Yeah?” He looked almost relieved as he hustled them both into the backseat of a Hummer very much like Connor’s. “Where to, ladies?”

  “My place.” Janie said with a mischievous grin. Alexandra practically heard Jackson swallow comically as he turned back and pulled away from the curb. Poor man.

  “Be nice.” Alexandra mouthed when she had Janie’s attention. Janie rolled her eyes and asked Jackson some polite getting-to-know-you questions. Which was good, because Alexandra wasn’t feeling particularly chatty. She ignored most of their conversation and instead studied the near darkness out her window. It had been a grey depressing day, which fit her mood.

  Jackson parked and then escorted them into Janie’s little apartment. Jackson and Janie were still in the living room chatting when Alexandra closed the bathroom door behind her. She turned on the water, stripped out of her clothes and was under the hot spray in record time.

  A knock sounded on the door. “Just me.” Janie said, popping her head in. Alexandra peered around the shower curtain and swiped water out of her eyes.

  “Need something?”

  “Just wanted to tell you that I’m going for coffee with Jackson.” Janie grinned and wiggled her eyebrows. “I’ll be back before it gets too late and I’ll lock up on the way out.”

  “Okay. Have fun. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “I thought you said to have fun?” Janie said, sticking her tongue out before she closed the bathroom door.

  Alexandra washed her hair and then continued to stand under the hot water, trying to let the heat and the white noise relax her as she tried to puzzle out what to say to Connor when she called.

  She felt foolish for the way she’d reacted. She’d stomped off like some drama queen and locked herself in a spare bedroom and then ran at the first opportunity. She hadn’t given him any chance to explain. At least he’d told her the truth. He could have kept all of it from her, including his suspicions about Lucas’s involvement. That would have been worse.

  Alexandra dried off and carefully combed and dried her hair. She dug pajamas from her suitcase and wondered what she was going to do in terms of clothes. She had nothing suitable for work, and she would run out of basic necessities in a day or two.

  Tomorrow she’d have to ask someone to take her over to her apartment at least long enough to get some clothes. How long would it take to fix one window, anyway? She changed, made herself a cup of tea and sat on Janie’s overstuffed couch.

  She checked the time and saw that it was still relatively early. She knew sometimes Connor worked late, and he’d likely have some catching up to do after a week away. She was stalling and she felt like a coward, but she decided to wait an hour before she called. She didn’t want to interrupt him at work.

  So she turned on Janie’s TV and flipped channels for a few minutes, finally settling on an episode of Dr. Who apparently from the 80s. She’d never seen the show before and was soon hopelessly lost. If Connor were there, he would doubtless be able to explain it to her. That was her last conscious thought before she closed her eyes and slept.

  She woke up in a blind panic. She couldn’t tell what had woken her, but her heart was pounding and she was momentarily disoriented waking up on an unfamiliar couch. The hair on the back of her neck was standing up and she could feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins. This happened sometimes when she awoke from a particularly nasty nightmare, but Alexandra couldn’t remember having any dreams at all. She glanced at the time on the cable box and saw that she hadn’t been out for more than ten minutes. So what had woken her?

  Alexandra listened for a long moment. And then she heard it. A faint shuffle of quiet footsteps, punctuated by crunches. It sounded like someone was walking across a gravel road or maybe across broken glass? It sounded very much like someone was in Janie’s room.

  She grabbed her phone from the coffee table and rose from the couch as quietly as she could. She would bang on doors until someone opened and she’d wait there and call the police and Connor and Jackson. It was a solid plan. Her heart was pounding in her ears until she thought it must be audible to the whole building. She cast a furtive glance over her shoulder as she tiptoed silently to the front door and eased the deadbolt back, cringing as it opened with a metallic click.

  Between one heartbeat and the next, she knew, just knew, there was someone behind her. Maybe she’d subconsciously recognized the squeak of a hinge, or registered the tremor of footfalls, but she knew. She scrambled to get the second lock open, but her fingers weren’t working properly and she fumbled her phone, dropping it to the floor.

  A hand seized her hair, yanking back violently. She shrieked at the searing pain.

  “Quiet.” An all too familiar voice hissed in her ear.

  She screamed louder, hoping someone would hear and call the police. A leather clad hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed and her voice died. She fought, throwing an elbow at his ribs where he stood behind her, trying to dig her nails into his wrist where the skin was exposed above the gloves. She even tried stomping on his foot, but he wore thick leather boots and she was barefoot after her shower.

  In desperation, she reached behind her and located his family jewels and gave them a quick firm tug. He made an odd squeak and fell to his knees, releasing her hair and her throat. She bolted for the door, but he snagged her left ankle and she went down hard, smashing her face into the floor. Pain exploded around her nose, making her vision flash white. She tasted blood.

  He had a hand around her ankle and he was swearing a blue streak from his position on the floor. She flipped onto her back, ignoring the blood gushing down her chin and her blurred vision and kicked with her free leg. Over and over again, she kicked at his head, which he now protected with his free hand.

  He grabbed her other ankle on a missed kick and yanked her toward him. The sudden movement sent the back of her head ricocheting into the floor and the room went black for a moment.

  She couldn’t lose consciousness. She had to stay awake. If she went to sleep, she would die. She had to keep him here. If she let him take her to a second location, she would die. Stay awake. Stay alive.

  Stay awake. Stay alive.

  She chanted it to herself over and over again as she tried to struggle her way free. He had a hold of both ankles now. She looked around, desperate for something, anything, she could use as a weapon. He continued to drag her away from the door into the center of the living room. She tried to scream, but she could hardly breathe for all the blood in her mouth and nose, and her throat felt tight and painful.

  She flailed her legs, grabbing at any furniture she could reach as he dragged her, cursing under his breath all the while. She paid no attention to what he was saying. It didn’t matter. What mattered was surviving.

  When he stopped dragging, and crouched down to kneel over her, she managed to sit up, despite the surge of pain and pressure in her head, and landed a glancing jab on his jaw. He duc
ked to the side and she shoved, trying to use his unbalanced position to throw him off. Instead, he lowered himself to his knees, trapping her legs.

  A quick, hard punch to her stomach knocked her back to the floor and knocked the wind out of her. Her lungs seized. She couldn’t draw breath, couldn’t move for the pain and the lack of air. He took advantage of the moment, straddling her thighs and pinning them to the floor with his full weight.

  By the time her lungs remembered how to function, he had her arms pinned at her sides, and he was looking smugly satisfied.

  “That was unexpected. You didn’t put up much of a fight the first time.”

  “Fuck you.” She wheezed. It hurt coming out, but she said it as loudly as she could. If she’d been able to scream it, she would have.

  “No, Fuck you.” He snarled. “And your self-righteous, interfering father.”

  “What?” She rasped. What did her father have to do with any of this?

  “You know he offered me an internship at the firm before you broke up with me? He knew I wanted to go to law school, and he said it would give me a chance to test the waters.”

  He pulled her hands together in front of her and held them both with one hand. She twisted her hands, trying to break his grip, but he was stronger than he had been nine years ago. He retrieved a roll of duct tape from a pocket on his cargo pants and began winding it around her wrists.

  “I mean, you didn’t even want to go to law school. You were one of those undecided, unfocused, English Lit majors. I figured you’d drop out of sight after college. Maybe become a teacher or one of those struggling writers.”

  Alexandra was trying hard to pay attention, to try and figure out what the hell he was talking about. She was also trying to figure out some way to make use of his distraction as he chattered away while binding her hands. She had to find something, something she could do.

  “Hell, I thought maybe you would’ve gotten married and had a few babies and that would be that. But, no. What did I see in the paper six months ago? Alexandra Hughes has gone and become a lawyer. Working for dear old dad at one of the city's best firms. You. Who had no ambition, no drive. It should have been me. It could have been me if only you’d been more reasonable. If you’d just listened to me and given me another chance, none of this would have had to happen.”

  “So, I deserve what happened because I broke up with you?” Alexandra hissed. Her nose was swelling rapidly and her voice came out nasally, and she hated that it sounded more like a whine.

  Lucas released a longsuffering sigh as if he was trying to explain complex calculus to a toddler. She really hated that. “If you had just reconsidered, I could have done my internship, gone to a good law school and gone to work at your father’s firm after I passed the bar. I tried to reason with you. I tried to remind you how good it had been between us. But you just made me so angry.” This last came out from between clenched teeth, as if the memory alone was enough to send him into a rage.

  As much as she hated him, as much as she wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp and feed his remains to the subway rats, she was in no position to get the job done. Rather than goad him into more violence, she said nothing.

  He scooted back, keeping her legs pinned with his weight, kneeling painfully on her shins as he turned around to tape her legs. She gasped and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out.

  “You know, I was willing to let it all go- to let sleeping dogs lie. It was bad enough you cost me my internship, four years of my life spent in prison, and any chance of having a successful career. You ruined my life, and I let it slide. But I’ll be damned if you can steal my life. You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve that degree, or your license, or your job. They should have been mine.”

  He yanked hard on the tape, wrapping it too tight around her ankles. Her hands were already beginning to go numb. She tried to swallow her rising panic past all the blood still seeping down her throat. Her head was pounding with each pulse of her heart.

  She couldn’t move, couldn’t scream, couldn’t fight anymore. She hurt everywhere. She couldn’t stop the tears any longer.

  I’m going to die. I’m sorry, Connor. I love you.

  ✽✽✽

  Connor would swear on a stack of Bibles that time was actually moving backward at this point. He’d pitched his proposal for updates to their security, complete with a cost analysis showing them that they’d save money in the long run because they’d have to have less personnel on site once the new system was in, and still, still, they asked him the same questions over and over again and he had to try to find new ways to answer it. Every. Damn. Time.

  They’d eaten their damn steak, which he had paid for, and now they were simply wasting his time. Alexandra would be home by now and he needed to see her. To make sure she was okay and to make sure they were okay.

  When Connor’s cell phone rang, his first thought was thank a loving and merciful God he could make an excuse and get the hell out of there. His second thought was that Sam knew where he was and why and wouldn’t call unless it was something important. His heart immediately sped up.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen, I have to take this.” He stood and made his way outside so he could actually hear.

  “Sam?”

  “Something’s up, Connor.” He began. “I got a call from Archie. I had him put men on Whitmore as soon as we located him, but the guys tailing him lost him.”

  “What? When?”

  “This morning.” Sam’s voice was a low growl, as if he was speaking through clenched teeth. “They tried to pick him up again at work, but apparently he didn’t show. They circled back to his apartment, but he wasn’t there either.”

  Connor swore and he could tell Sam was as pissed off as he was that they’d waited so long to let them know.

  “What about the cousin?”

  “Gone.”

  “Fuck!”

  “There’s more.” Sam continued. Connor’s anxiety spiked and he forced himself to breathe. “Paul called me from the probation department. Whitmore was flagged by Newark PD because he no-showed at his appointment this afternoon.”

  Connor cursed some more as he sprinted for his vehicle.

  “Call Jackson. Send him back to Janie’s and tell him to sit tight until I get there.”

  “Got it.” Sam disconnected without another word.

  Connor got his vehicle on the road before he tried Alexandra’s cell. Still no answer. He’d been an idiot to let her out of his sight. He should have insisted she stayed with him. Even if she hated him, even if she never left the guest room, at least she would have been safe. He’d fucked up again, and now someone else- someone he loved- was going to get hurt because of him.

  He swore and dialed Janie’s cell. He was already breaking at least three traffic laws as he raced toward the address Janie had sent him. No answer. He prayed all the while that he was overreacting and he would find Alexandra safe and sound.

  His gut was telling him a different story. Whitmore had, until today, been a model ex-con. He’d appeared at every appointment, complied with every condition and hadn’t so much as gotten a speeding ticket. Now, today of all days, he ditched work, ditched probation? The day after Alexandra returned from London. The first night she wasn’t staying with Connor, or at her own, well secured brownstone? No way it was a coincidence.

  He pulled up in front of the building, retrieved his P99 from the lockbox under the seat where he’d stowed it before dinner, and hustled for the apartment entrance. Unfortunately, the front door was locked. He’d need someone to buzz him in. He almost pressed the button for Janie’s apartment, but stopped short.

  If she was okay, then he didn’t need to rush getting into the building. If she was in danger, he needed to find an inconspicuous way into the building and into the apartment instead of ringing the damn doorbell.

  He tried Alexandra’s phone again and it rang six times before going to voicemail. Not off, she just wasn’t picking up, which wasn’t
a good sign. He called Jackson who answered on the first ring.

  “We’re on our way, we’ll be there in five.”

  “Got it. Where is Janie’s apartment located in the building?”

  “Third floor, second unit north of the southeast corner.”

  “Got it. Call me when you get here.” He hung up the phone and jogged around until he found an alley he could slip through to get to the back of the building. He looked up to the third floor and swore. All the unlit windows reflected the ambient light from the city, except for one. The third window from the left was either broken or open. Being late October, he doubted very much if Janie had intentionally left a window open.

  He tucked the gun in the waistband of his slacks, since he hadn’t bothered to put his holster on, and ditched his jacket and tie. He rolled up his sleeves and started carefully climbing the fire escape.

  He wanted to race up the rungs. Everything inside him was pounding at him to hurry. The thought of Alexandra in the same city, let alone the same room, as Whitmore made his blood boil and his stomach churn.

  Please be okay. Please be okay.

  He climbed through the window, being very careful not to make too much noise. The only sounds coming from the other room was the television. Quiet was good, right? Alexandra had been training with Trey for a while now. She would put up a fight this time. Unless she already had… and lost.

  He crept to the door, carefully avoiding the broken glass strewn around the floor. It was partially open and he stopped to listen. He heard faint scuffing, as if someone was shifting around. Then a voice. He could see a reflection in the TV of man’s back, standing in the living room. He couldn’t tell if he had a weapon and he couldn’t see Alexandra. He was standing to the right of the door, in front of the couch. Connor would have to step out of the room to get a clean shot, which he would do as soon as he could be sure Alexandra was still here, and still alive, and out of the line of fire.