Keeping Her Safe Page 17

  “I don’t know that. I think he may be doing what he seems good at, leading them to do things they’re not ready for.”

  “And you thought I might help?”

  She hesitated. “Yes, I thought you might.”

  He smiled. “Why exactly did you think that?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe just because you seem to be different from Brad. You haven’t tried anything with me. You accept the fact that I might prefer playing darts and billiards to being fed fake compliments.”

  He nodded slowly. “I don’t think Brad has hurt anyone, but now that I know you’re concerned, I’ll keep my eyes and ears open. Do you have any names you could give me?”

  She looked at him. The names were there in her mind.

  “No,” she said. She wasn’t willing to do that. “The stories aren’t mine to share.” She rose and said goodbye, and Neil smiled at her.

  Natalie felt Vincent watching her as she walked away. She wanted to turn around and tell him that she was sorry, but of course she couldn’t do that.

  Exiting the building, she quickly punched in Marty’s number. He must have been waiting around the corner, because he appeared almost instantly. Not a surprise.

  She waited until Vincent had left the building before she got in the car.

  “All right, we talk now,” Marty said.

  She couldn’t. Vincent hadn’t even looked at her when he walked out of The Ladder. She couldn’t wait to get home and explain everything to him. She had disappointed him and lied. No wonder Vincent didn’t want a woman like her.

  Pain sliced through her. She realized that Vincent’s good opinion was beginning to matter too much to her. She was starting to care too much.

  Turning to Marty, she gave her head a tight shake. “I can’t tonight, Marty, please. Vincent and I have to talk. You understand. You’ve been there before.” Marty had had a steady string of girlfriends ever since he was in his teens.

  He hesitated. Then he nodded. “All right, but if you don’t spill everything soon, sis—”

  “I will. I promise.” At least she would tell him as much as she could.

  They drove home quickly. She thanked him and gave him a hug and went into the building, aware of the moment Vincent walked in behind her.

  Fishing out her keys, she walked up to her apartment door. And stopped dead in her tracks.

  “Oh, no. Please,” she said, as she looked at the splintered lock.

  The door was still open a crack. She started to push on it.

  “Leave it,” a hard voice commanded behind her.

  She turned to see Vincent striding down the hallway. His mouth was set in a thin line, his gray eyes filled with rage. Every muscle radiated hot steel. Anger.

  “We’ll talk,” he said, his voice cold and clipped. “In a minute. Wait here.”

  And then he quietly slipped inside.

  Vincent fought to control his emotions as he made his way through Natalie’s apartment. The place was eerily quiet but appeared to be untouched. He looked behind doors, in closets, in the shower, anywhere a man could possibly hide, but whoever had been there was already gone.

  That didn’t matter. The fact that someone had dared to come in here at all brought rage rushing to the forefront. Natalie’s actions of late, the fact that she had so little regard for her own well-being, brought all the feelings he’d suppressed rushing to the surface.

  He stalked to the door, drew her inside. Once she was inside, he shoved the door closed and turned to her, trying not to think that if not for chance and dumb luck, those beautiful green eyes might be sightless right now. “Talk, Natalie. Now. What in hell were you thinking tonight?” The words came out cold and rough.

  She winced, those green eyes huge. She opened her mouth.

  “Hell, no, don’t even bother answering, because we both already know the answer, don’t we?” he yelled. “Do you realize what could have happened to you if I hadn’t seen you in that restaurant? You were completely without protection during that time. Do you always just jump into danger without knowing or caring what you’re getting into? You’re a witness to a murder. There’s a man out there on the loose who doesn’t want you to testify. If he finds you, if I can’t stop him from getting to you—” He broke off, knowing he would completely lose it if he envisioned her maimed or worse.

  She stood there for a moment, not saying a thing. Then she pulled her shoulders back and stood taller. “I’m sorry,” she said, holding her head high.

  Her apology released a floodgate of feelings he could no longer hold back. “Sorry doesn’t make it right, Natalie.” He looked at the door, at the broken lock. “Damn it, Natalie, you saw that last note, you see this door. He’s close. He’s watching you. What if—”

  “I know. Do you think I don’t know?” Her voice quivered.

  “No, I don’t think you do. You say you know, but tomorrow, given the chance, you would do it again. You charge ahead without thought to how that affects your personal safety. You don’t care about anything except getting your damned story.”

  He whirled and savagely slammed his hand into the wall, standing there breathing in great, heaving gulps. “You make me totally nuts, Natalie. Do you know that?”

  “I guess I do,” she admitted.

  That was it. He whirled, shoving closer into her face. “No!” he roared. “You don’t know a thing.” He balled his hands into fists, struggling for control. “Come on, pack your stuff.”

  “What?”

  He frowned. “Pack a bag, Natalie. You’re not staying here. I’m taking you to a hotel.”

  Natalie’s brows furrowed. “No, I—”

  “Yes. Someone knows where you are and now they’ve breached your door. You’re not safe here.”

  “I’m fine.” But she looked at the useless broken lock, and for a moment, Vincent thought she was going to faint. He almost moved forward and drew her into his arms. He wanted nothing more than to stroke her hair and tell her that everything would be okay. But she was too smart for that. The truth was he didn’t know if everything would be okay. He didn’t know if he could protect her completely.

  The very thought scalded him. To find her missing again…to find that someone had gotten to her when he hadn’t been there to save her…

  “To hell with your need for control, Natalie. I don’t care how much you want to stay. I don’t care how much trouble you are or how angry it makes you. Your feelings don’t count in this case, because the end result is that I’m taking you somewhere safe. If that means I have to throw you over my shoulder to do it, it’s happening. Live with that. To hell with your need to control the situation. Your way isn’t safe, so it’s not happening. Just get your stuff.”

  For two seconds, he saw the pain in her eyes before she closed them. Her body swayed and he reached out, but then he drew back.

  Anger at her, at himself, seared his soul.

  “Get your stuff now, Natalie, or I’ll pack for you.”

  She opened her eyes and looked up at him. She tilted her head back and gave him a small nod. And then she made her way to a closet and pulled out a suitcase. Her shoulders sagged, and Vincent realized that he had finally succeeded in breaking her spirit, in damaging the part of her that made her who she was.

  He cursed himself, but he didn’t back down.

  Sixteen

  The hotel was a bit nicer than most of the ones she’d stayed in before, Natalie realized as she walked into the beige-and-jade suite and noticed the plush carpeting, the array of sofas and occasional tables sporting crystal and silver. None of that mattered.

  She had damaged Vincent’s trust in her. She had abused her position. He was right about those things, but…

  Vincent had spoken to her as if he disliked her, as if she were a burden. The memory of a long-ago day when her mother had castigated her in front of her friends for staying out ten minutes late crept in. She had been twenty-three. It hadn’t mattered. Her pride hadn’t mattered one whit. And it didn’t matt
er to Vincent.

  Pain choked her. She picked up her bag that Vincent had carried in and took it into the bedroom. Slowly, she began to unpack.

  It was obvious that Vincent wished he could end this job quickly. Her parents had often felt the same way.

  Natalie wrestled with her pride. She fought the tears that threatened to clog her throat. She continued unpacking, fighting to stay strong and upright. Wishing she didn’t care what Vincent thought.

  But she did care. He was right about some things, after all.

  He had hurt her. Damn him for a loud, heavy-handed, blundering male. Yes, she had behaved recklessly, Vincent thought, but she had at least called her brother, a person she had always trusted to protect her. Wouldn’t any person be spitting mad if they had a jailer all the time the way she did? And wasn’t it her spirit and her bravery and her need to pursue justice that he admired? Didn’t he love the way she stood up to him and demanded her place?

  Wouldn’t he confront any man who tried to crush her enthusiasm for all things good and right? And wasn’t he really mad at himself for not realizing that someone had discovered where she lived?

  Was he a total jerk or what?

  “So what the hell are you still doing standing in here when she’s in there?” he muttered.

  He stared around him at the lavish empty room and realized that it held no appeal for him when Natalie was in the next room.

  In three long steps, he made it to the door she had shut behind her. He knocked, half expecting her to tell him to go to hell. Heck, he wouldn’t blame her if she did.

  “Come in,” she called, her voice thick.

  He looked at the door as if it were the enemy keeping him from her. Turning the knob, he stared at her.

  She was standing by the bed, holding a blouse she had been ready to put on a hanger. The piece of cloth was like a shield protecting her from him.

  Her eyes were pools of unhappiness.

  He swore.

  She held up one hand. “If you’ve come to continue telling me how reckless I am—”

  “I haven’t.”

  Natalie jerked, the blouse almost slipping from her hands. She looked to the side. “Well then, if you’ve come to remind me that I did something stupid, I—”

  “No,” he said.

  She turned back. “It was stupid. I was stupid,” she said, her voice not much more than a breath, but her chin was lifted defiantly. She looked as if she wished she could find some sharp object to hurl at him. If he hadn’t been so afraid that she would order him out the door and out of her life, he would have smiled.

  “I’m sorry, Natalie,” he said. “You weren’t stupid. I never thought that. I admire you. I respect you.”

  She dropped the blouse, blinking hard. “I realize that I handled the situation all wrong, Vincent. You were right to be angry with me, and I’m sorry if I scared you. The truth is that I was a little bit frightened too, once I thought of the ramifications of my actions. Marty might have been hurt. But I’m sorry. I just won’t put up with being yelled at and treated like a child.”

  “No, you’re not a child,” he agreed.

  She looked directly at him, and now her eyes were clear and aware.

  “And yes, you scared me,” he said, his voice low. “You don’t know how scared I was when I couldn’t find you.”

  He moved forward.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again, but he placed his fingertips over her lips.

  “Shhh, I’m the one who’s sorry for being such an ass. Half my anger was at myself, but I took all of it out on you.” And then he couldn’t help himself. He slid his fingers down her throat, placed one hand at her waist and stepped close enough so that his body touched hers. Then he brought his lips down on hers. He tasted her, assured himself that she was alive, safe, his for the moment.

  She angled her head and pressed closer. Yes, for this moment she was his if he wanted to take her.

  He did. He took what she was offering, his lips nibbling at hers, his tongue stroking inside, his mouth claiming what he had wanted for so long.

  She pulled back slightly, her eyes dazed, her mouth rosy. “I can’t be what you want me to be, Vincent.”

  Slowly he shook his head. “You’re wrong. Right now you’re everything I want you to be.”

  Natalie smiled at him. She rose on her toes, pressed her body against his, and then, placing her hands on his chest, she pushed slightly, sending him slipping back onto the bed.

  Climbing up beside him, she eyed him. “You’ve probably had a lot of women,” she suddenly said, her voice less sure.

  He gazed into her eyes. “I’ve never had a woman like you.”

  “You mean one who’s trouble?” she asked with a grin.

  “Exactly.” And he reached up and snaked his hand around the nape of her neck and pulled her down on top of him. “Right now, I’m in the mood for trouble.”

  “That’s good. I’m in the mood to give you trouble.” She reached for the hem of his black T-shirt and pulled it over his head, throwing it behind her. Her palms rested on his bare chest.

  Vincent’s heart began to thud painfully. He wanted her with a dangerous amount of passion. He wanted to grab, but he didn’t want to scare her or offend her again.

  With great difficulty, he lay still as she ran her hands over him, every stroke igniting tiny fires beneath his skin.

  “That guy in the restaurant, the one you’ve met before at the bar…”

  “Neil,” she said, and she leaned forward and nipped at his skin. Vincent bucked against her, warning himself to stay still, not to act like a Neanderthal and rip off her clothing.

  “Yes,” he whispered, his voice becoming a growl as tension made its way through his body, turning him tight and hungry.

  “What about Neil?” Her lips found his right nipple and he groaned, fought for breath and sanity.

  “I wanted to hit him. He was looking at you as if you were a lollipop and he’d been deprived of candy all his life.” Vincent closed his eyes, hoping that would help him regain control. It didn’t.

  He opened them again and found her looking at him, her body astride his.

  “Vincent?”

  He rose up on his elbows, so that his eyes were gazing directly into hers. “Yes?”

  “I don’t want Neil. I want you, and I’m not afraid. You can touch me.”

  “I’m afraid,” he managed to say through gritted teeth. “You don’t know how much I want you. I don’t want to be rough. I don’t want to hurt or scare you.”

  And then she gave him a long, slow smile. “You won’t.”

  She didn’t know that.

  “I want you, Vincent. Desperately,” she said, and then she peeled away her blouse. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and her small perfect breasts sprang free. Within reach of his hands, of his mouth.

  “Aw, hell, Natalie. How am I going to keep my hands off you now?”

  “I’m hoping you aren’t.” She reached for the zipper on her jeans.

  That was it. He was lost. Rolling with her, Vincent tucked her beneath him. He shoved her hands aside, freed the zipper and slicked her jeans down her legs and aside. She lay before him clad in wispy white panties that sucked the breath right out of his chest.

  “You’re damn right, I’m not keeping my hands off you,” he told her, and he slipped his thumbs inside her panties and pulled them off her in one swift move.

  Now she was naked. His. For tonight, he could indulge the passion that had surged between them from the word go.

  “You want me?” he asked, staring down into her eyes as she sprawled pink and white and beautiful beneath him.

  “Like mad,” she said, and she unfastened his pants, slipped her hands inside and slid his pants and his boxers away, her hands stroking and burning his flesh all the way down.

  “You do drive me mad,” she whispered, rising up to plunge her fingers into his hair.

  He caught her lips with his, he stroked one hand down her shoulder. Mo
ving farther still, he found one delicate breast, his thumb grazing the sensitive tip over and over.

  She arched and cried out as the tender bud tightened beneath his caress.

  “Vincent,” she gasped, and he lowered his head and suckled her, his hands framing her slender waist as he tasted what he had wanted to taste ever since he had met her.

  His body tightened, arousal ran thick and hot. He needed her, but he wouldn’t rush her. Not in any way.

  With the greatest of care, he kissed first one breast and then the other. She moved restlessly beneath him, and he returned to her lips, breathing in the minty taste of her, sliding his tongue against hers as his body strained with the need to hold back.

  “Don’t hold back,” she said as if she had read his thoughts. “Don’t wait.”

  But still he waited. He kissed his way down her body, licking her navel, nipping at her belly. Then he kissed his way lower, holding her still for his touch.

  “Vincent, no.” She reached down to stop him.

  He kissed her hand, then returned to his pleasure, licking deep inside her.

  Her body quivered in his grasp, and he held her as she cried out and the tremors began. He stroked her until the explosion was over, and then he covered her with his body.

  She gazed into his eyes. “Yes,” she whispered as he joined his body to hers. Her legs came up around him, and he surged inside her. He filled her, barely able to hold back, wanting to take her with him.

  He rocked his body against hers.

  “Now,” she said.

  “No,” he answered on a groan. She wasn’t far enough along. He wanted her with him.

  An anguished cry burst from her. “Vincent, now.”

  “Almost.” He could see her struggling for completion. He was going out of his mind, but he reached down and gently stroked the softest part of her.

  She arched and twisted. “Vincent, please, yes,” she said again, “oh, yes,” and he lost the battle for control. Heat suffused his body, pleasure overtook him. He filled her with one more deep thrust, and she called out his name as her body took over.

  Together, they fell back to the bed, and he rolled to keep from crushing her, tucking her in against his side.