Dark Mysteries (15 page)

A
crash sounded outside the door, glass breaking, someone yelling.

Ellie
sprang back so fast she slammed her head against the wall, her legs
moving immediately from his waist. She pressed her hands on the wall
behind her, steadying herself on her very wobbly legs. She was
choosing to believe it was from being in an awkward position for so
long, not desire. Nope. Not that. She took a deep breath, trying to
smooth over her frazzled nerves.

Xander
looked down at her for a second, trying to figure out where her mind
was. If she regretted it. But the noise on the street was getting
louder and he ran to his desk to grab his gun. He walked back over,
seeing Ellie watching the door, her fist closed around something in
her hand. A man yelled and she tossed her wrist outward, making the
weapon extend in her hand. A baton. His baton. He almost wanted to
laugh. Almost.

At
least she had gone out prepared.

He
moved toward the door, pulling it open, and striding outside.

Ellie
felt shaky, following him to the door, but not stepping completely
outside. What possessed him to just... stride out without figuring
out what he might be stepping into? Was he really just that brave? Or
that reckless?

There
was some kind of altercation in the street, a few of the teenagers
from the block yelling at each other. A glass bottle was in the
middle of the road, little green reflectors of light everywhere.
Xander kept walking, letting out a loud, almost painful whistle that
had the heads turning to him. Stiffening. Like they knew who it was
without looking.

“What
the fuck is this?” Xander yelled, waving an arm out, the gun
catching the sunlight.

“Xander...
man...” one of the kids started, looking down at his feet.

“Shut
up,” Xander snapped, tucking his gun into his waistband. “Take
your adolescent shit somewhere else,” he said, no real anger
behind his words. Just firmness. Like he knew that boys needed to
fight. But that there was a time and a place. Not in the middle of
the street. Not in front of his business.

Gabe
came out of his office, a dustpan and broom in his hands. Ellie slunk
further into the shop, out of eyesight from them, but still able to
watch. He walked up next to Xander and they shared a look. A familiar
look. Like they were remembering their own teenage skirmishes. He
held out the dustpan and broom, looking up at the kids expectantly.
“Clean it up,” he said, waiting for someone to take the
items from his hands. The one who had tried to explain what was going
on to Xander reached for them. “I don't want flat tires because
of your little bitch fight,” he said, patted Xander on the
shoulder and went back to his office.

Ellie
took a deep breath, moving into the office and quickly slinking off
to the bathroom. She needed a minute. She needed to get herself
together.

She
was lucky there was a street fight.

It
was a thought she could have never anticipated thinking. But it was
true. She was lucky there was a street fight. Because it had been
like being doused in cold water. It had put an abrupt end to
something she wasn't sure she was ready for yet. Would ever be ready
for again. She put her hands on the cool porcelain of the sink,
looking at herself in the mirror.

Her
cheeks were flushed, her eyes hooded, sleepy-looking. Her lips were
swollen and redder than usual. Freshly kissed, she thought, a weird
giggle lodging in her throat, she looked freshly kissed. Were grown
women supposed to look like that? Confused and turned on at the same
time?

She
heard the office door close and turned the cold water on, slipping
her hands in the current, pretending not to notice that her hands
were shaking. She cupped the water, bringing it up and burying her
face in it before letting it slip away.

She
was going to have to face him. The thought made her lean forward,
resting her head on the wooden frame of the mirror, banging her head
into it a few times. Why had she kissed someone that she was sharing
a very, very small space with? Of all the asinine ideas.

And
why had it been such a good kiss? She could have just shrugged it off
it was mediocre. Went on like nothing had ever happened. The sexual
tension would completely dissolve too, making it even easier to
cohabitate. But now she knew it was good. Oh, god. It was so good.
She pressed her thighs together at the memory, closing her eyes tight
against it. How was she going to walk back out there and pretend it
wasn't perhaps the hottest thing she had ever experienced? How was
she going to lay down on her silly red couch and keep herself from
climbing into the bed with him and finish what they had started?

Ellie
sighed, splashing her face one last time. She stripped out of the
jacket, pulled her hair out of her braid, finding the small acts
comforting. Grounding. She was a big girl. She was just going to have
to do what all girls have to do at some time or other in their lives.

She
was going to have to fake it.

She
opened the door, walking into the apartment and folding the jacket up
with her other clothes, making a mental note to ship it back to Faith
some day in the future. She put her wallet back in the box too,
shaking her head at her stupidity for going out in the first place.
And last, but not least, she took the baton back to the closet,
hanging it where it belonged.

“Did
you have to use it?” Xander asked, making her yelp and turn,
her hand flying to her heart.

“No,”
she said, closing the closet.

“Good,”
Xander nodded, watching her. She seemed fine. He was a boiling
cauldron of hormones and uncertainty... and she looked like she had
just come back from brunch. No big deal. He shook his head, taking a
breath. “I put on water for tea,” he said.

Ellie's
head shot up, her brows drawing together. Certain she had misheard
him. “What?”

“Water...
for tea,” he repeated, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.
Christ he was uncomfortable. Why had he put on tea water for her?
That was so weird. So out of character. He just... he thought she had
had a rough day. And would need something to calm her down. He
shrugged at her. “I put on coffee for me... so I just...”
he trailed off, waving a hand toward the kitchen and stepping further
away from her.

Ellie
smiled slightly at him. It was really considerate of him. “Thank
you,” she said, moving over toward the kitchen to fiddle
around, preparing her tea. Keeping herself busy. Having an excuse to
not talk to him.

Xander
watched her as she moved, her hips swaying slightly as she walked.
How had he not noticed that before? Her moves were precise,
practiced. Countless cups of tea had been made the exact same way for
years.

Xander's
face scrunched up at his own observations. Was he really thinking
about her tea-drinking habits? What the fuck was wrong with him? He
sighed, looking toward the office. “I have work to do,”
he said and quickly went out to the front, sitting down at his desk.
He turned on the computer, brought up a search engine, and then just
sat there staring at the screen.

He
covered his face in his hands for a long time, trying to think of all
the reasons it would be wrong to go right back in there and help her
out of her clothes, take her to his bed, and just lose himself in
her.

She
wasn't his type. She was his client. She had just kissed him because
of some surge of adrenaline. She hadn't meant it.

But,
damn, if she didn't seem like she meant it...

No.
He sighed. That would do him no good. He didn't need to think about
it. That would just keep looping back to her moaning, her grinding
against him.

He
just needed to set his mind to the idea that it was never. Ever.
Going to happen again. It was wrong. It would only complicate an
already problematic situation.

Besides,
he needed to figure out who the hell she even was. What she was
running from. Sleeping with her was only going to make that even more
awkward.

He
turned back to his screen, typing quickly, clicking around. Losing
himself at what he was best at. Work.

A
few minutes. Or hours... he had lost track of time, later... there
was a small click in front of him and he looked over to see a fresh
cup of coffee there. He glanced up to see Ellie who nodded at him
once before walking back.

“Jesus
Christ,” he mumbled to himself, picking up the coffee cup.

He
looked back at the computer. Work. He needed to think about work. Not
about how her lip still looked puffy from his mouth, his teeth.

He
needed to think of literally anything else in the world but that.

Twelve

Ellie
spent two days on edge, stiffening any time she heard Xander walk
into the room. But he never said anything. He never brought it up.
Not the kiss. Or the fact that she left the office and said nothing.
That she came home freaked out.

She
stopped in the middle of washing her tea mug, staring up at the wall.
Home? She came
home
freaked out? This wasn't her home. This
was Xander's home. She didn't live there. She was temporarily
crashing there.

She
never had “homes”. She had places she stayed. She had
hideouts. She had temporary shelters. She hadn't had a home since she
was eighteen years old. With her father. With her small room with
sunny yellow walls with overflowing bookcases, piled three volumes
deep on each shelf, her twin sized bed with a yellow and white
patchwork quilt her grandmother had made her. Every inch of that room
had her touch on it. Memories mixed into every fabric.

That
was what home was.

“Ellie,”
Xander said, loudly, making her think she had been fazed out for a
while. “You alright, sweetheart?” he asked, and she
wanted to deny the little flutter in her belly at the word. The word
that meant nothing. It was just a word he obviously used very easily
on women.

“Yeah,”
Ellie said, rinsing the soap off her cup, turning off the tap, and
turning. “I'm fine.”

Xander
watched her for a minute with drawn-in brows. He had called her three
times. And she had just stood there, back rod-straight staring at the
wall while the water ran over her hands. She was usually so hyper
aware of everything going on. It was strange to catch her off guard,
or completely closed off.

He
had meant for the past few days to bring it up. The office leaving.
The running back. Not the kiss. No. That really, really did not to be
discussed. But where had she been? Who had she seen? She obviously
expected trouble if she brought his baton. And she came home wearing
someone else's jacket.

But
that night he felt too awkward about the make out session to actually
speak to her. He stayed up until it was almost morning, searching
around on his computer. He waited until he was sure she was asleep,
took a frigid shower, and climbed into bed. And then the next
morning, it felt like he had let too much time pass. Like it would be
weird to bring it up.

So
he didn't.

And
the not knowing was driving him crazy.

“Okay,”
he said, his tone disbelieving. “Well, I need to run out for a
while,” he said. To make phone calls. About her. And he
certainly couldn't do that while she was in earshot. “Can you
just...” he put his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his
heels, feeling uncomfortable making the request.

“Can
I what?” she asked, keeping her eyes on safe places. The ends
of his hair. His earlobe. Which she suddenly wanted to nip into.
Okay. No earlobe. The collar of his shirt. Yeah, that was better.

“Stay
here today,” he finished, shaking his head at his own words. It
wasn't his place to ask, or demand, she do anything. She was a
client. Not his sister. Or his girlfriend. “Christ,” he
cursed, moving away. “Never mind. Do what you want,” he
said, going into his office.

“I'll
stay,” she called to him. She had no intentions of going out
again. And she was more than a little touched that it seemed like he
was worried about her. Even if it was just as his client.

“Good,”
he grumbled and she heard the door close.

She
scurried out to the office and locked it, taking her first real, deep
breath in days. She moved into the apartment, slipping into a t-shirt
and collecting all the cleaning supplies. She needed to get rid of
all the nervous energy. She needed to lose herself in something. And
stop thinking about Xander's lips. On her mouth. And her neck. His
cock pressed up against her heat.

Ellie
groaned, going over to the sink and filling a bucket. It was going to
take a lot of cleaning to get him out of her mind.

She
was halfway through scrubbing the floor, her fingernails gripping the
rag painfully, when she heard it.

The
front door unlocking.

Her
heart flew into her throat. She scrambled off the floor, frozen for
the barest of moments. Xander always knocked. He knocked. And yelled.
He didn't just let himself in. Without thinking, she ran across the
floor and threw herself into the closet of pain, pulling the door
closed silently. She reached for the brass knuckles, slipping her
fingers through the holes and gripping it tightly. Slinking back
further in to the closet, she listened to the footsteps. In the
office for as long as it took to glance into the bathroom, the
closets. Then someone was in the apartment, going over toward the
kitchen, checking in the closet. Closing it.