Midnight (McKenna Chronicles Book 1) (16 page)

Another
voice grounds out, “We got a lot of dick for you.” Their laughter at the crude
joke reaches me and I know now I need to be afraid.

Turning
around, I look for a place to sneak into so I can call a cab. Frustration takes
over when I note everything in this section of the city closes at seven, and it
was quarter after when I left the pub. My best bet is to cross the street and
run back in the direction I came from.

Darting
onto the road without a glance, I justify the reckless move because getting hit
by a car would be a better option than facing these asses.

There
is no traffic. The streets are unusually silent, no people, no vehicles,
nothing. Dropping the takeout bag, I sprint as fast as I can, vulgar comments
following as I run. I push my legs faster to move beyond them and pray they
don’t follow. Once on the sidewalk it’s clear they have—one man crossed the
road at the same time and because they were behind me, I’ve run right into him.

Okay,
time for Plan B. My mom made Ali and I take a gazillion different self-defense
classes, so I pull from my memory the techniques to use with multiple
attackers. Reaching into my purse, I take out two things: my phone and pepper
spray.
Never leave home without it
, I hear my dad preaching to me.

Before
my finger presses the last number in nine-one-one, a hand reaches out from
behind my shoulder, snatching the phone away. I scream loudly, piercing the
otherwise silent air. Why isn’t anyone around? The last reverberation of my
scream is muffled when another hand reaches around to cover my mouth.

NO
,
this can’t happen
. The panic wells, threatening to take over. Tremors
shake my body violently.

Raising
my hand with the pepper spray, it’s pinioned down to my side immediately. This
man’s hands repulse me, and the feel of his body pressed tightly to my back
echoes that.

The
sad truth is fear was a close acquaintance of mine. He was never invited in,
yet he would appear, and there was no denying his entrance into my life. It’s
been a long time since this tormentor had cause to visit, but here he is,
taking over once more.

As
he has done before, he tries to smother my thoughts, prevent action on my part.
I’m stronger than that. His constant companionship taught me how to use it to
my advantage, use the adrenalin to defend myself. With as much force as
possible, I bite down on the hand smothering my mouth, sinking my teeth sharply
into his nasty flesh, clawing at his face with my free hand.

“Fucking
cunt,” he screams before pushing me to the man in front of him.

I
punch at his neck as he tries to get a hold of me, bringing my knee up to his
groin sharply. Before it connects he throws me hard to the ground, my hands
breaking the fall when they scrape against the sidewalk. I ignore the pain,
screaming again while scrambling backward to garner some distance. Somewhere in
the back of my mind I imagine Colin calling my name. I hear him as if I’ve
conjured a dream. Focusing on my attackers, I look up to gauge their next move,
but their eyes are wide and fearful. Whirling around to find the source of
their sudden doubt, to my astonishment it’s Colin.

His
eyes are blazing, the wrath radiating from him automatically silencing the
group of men. He doesn’t speak; he doesn’t have to. I’ve never seen rage
expressed in such a way where conversation or action isn’t needed: it’s
emitted, defused into each particle of air and felt deeply to the core.  

“Hey,
man, we were just having fun.” One of them tries to explain their actions,
hands in the air, moving away one step at a time.

Without
taking his eyes off of them Colin pulls me to my feet, pushing me behind his
wide frame. I grab his coat, unwilling to part from him, pressing myself into
his back as if we can become one. I need to feel him; I need
him
. Daring
to peek around his shoulders, I see the four men are backing away, hands up in
surrender, wary of Colin. Police sirens wail in the distance; someone must have
called nine-one-one. They hear it too, and sprint in multiple directions.

Colin’s
arms have found me and I sink into him with relief. He’s shaking, hard. “Fuck.”
It’s the first time I've heard him swear and it makes me smile, but my
chattering teeth prevent my lips from working correctly. It’s then I realize
it’s not Colin who is shaking; it’s me.

Pushing
against my shoulders, he tries to pry away, but I’m on him like superglue. “Did
they hurt you Charlie?”

I
shake my head. “I’m just so scared,” I whisper, sinking into him as closely as
I can.  

One
hand crushes me to him. He uses the other to dial on his phone, talking quickly
to Evan for a minute. The sirens have grown silent as the cars head to an
emergency other than my own. Colin and I are alone on the street. He finishes
his call and when he bends to the ground for my fallen cell phone, I follow.
Stuck to him even as we stand. Picking me up, he cradles me in his arms,
walking with purpose down the sidewalk. I want to protest, knowing I should be
embarrassed he’s holding me like a small child, but I don’t. My arms snake
around him, my head buried in the crook of his neck as I let the tremors come
full force, afraid to hold them in any longer for fear they’ll control me. I
won’t let fear control me ever again. 

I
have no concept of time; it feels as if only seconds pass before he’s sitting
down with me in his lap, back in his warm hotel room. The tremors pass; an
occasional shiver the only after-effect of the ordeal. I won’t let myself cry;
tears don’t help, they’re not a savior or protector, and they don’t wash away
pain or free you from it. As a young girl I began to see them as a sign of
weakness, so I haven’t allowed myself to cry in fifteen years. I will not be
weak.

Colin’s
hand rubs down my back, over and over again, his nose pressing into my hair. I
think I hear him whisper, “You smell so good, Charlie.” I nuzzle myself closer
into his neck, taking notice of his divine smell for the first time tonight.
He’s wearing cologne.  

Sitting
up, I ask, “Did you miss your dinner?” His black tuxedo is peeking out from
underneath a wool overcoat.

“I
left early. Evan told me you went shopping so I decided to look for you.”
Tucking my head back into his neck, he pulls me close, squeezing so my intake
of breath is compromised.

“Damn
it, Charlie,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “You’re a danger magnet.”
I’ve never thought of it like that before, but he has a point. A laugh escapes.

“You
think it’s funny?”

I
shake my head no. “I was just agreeing you have a point.”

We
sit like this for a long time, my growling stomach the only noise heard in the
room. I can’t help but giggle. When I pull away from his tranquil heat, he has
a small smile on his lips, although his eyes are still tense.

“You
didn’t eat?”

“I
was going to,” I say in a hurry, pulling away just enough to look into his
eyes. “I even ordered a sandwich, but sleaze ball number one interrupted me and
I lost my appetite.” I shudder at the memory. Colin’s jaw tightens; I can’t
help but run my fingers down the side of his face to soften his thoughts.

He
grabs my hand, catching on to my game. “Don’t try to distract me.” Slipping me
from his lap, he stands from the couch, walking to the phone on the desk.

“I’ll
order you something to eat and then you’re going to tell me what happened;
every detail,” he commands.

“Yes
sir,” I say, mocking a salute at the same time. He shakes his head in mild
amusement at my antics as he calls room service. “Something light, please; I
don’t think my stomach can handle anything else.”

~

Twenty
minutes later I’m sitting at the small table in his room with a delicious bowl
of chicken noodle soup, homemade bread and a bowl of fruit. I’ve relayed
everything I can think of to Colin and Evan. They’re both good interrogators,
drawing out minute details. Evan has a friend on the Albany P.D, and he left to
speak with him directly.

I
sigh, leaning back in the chair, replete. Colin is reclining against the back
of the couch, staring at me, his arms crossed against his chest. He hasn’t said
much since Evan left. I suddenly want to shower, wash away the fear that
attacked me earlier. Standing, I walk over to him in the stunning leftover
remnants of his tuxedo, collar unbuttoned, tie loose and shirtsleeves rolled to
his elbows. He’s a beautiful man.

I
have to tilt my head up to look at him, staring into his dark blue eyes. My
hands are at my sides; I don’t touch him. He doesn’t move either at first.
Finally, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me close, a deep sigh escaping as
he rests his chin on top of my head. “Would you please stay out of trouble for
a couple of days, Charlie.” It’s a statement, a demand, really.

I
nod in agreement. Smiling, I lean up on my tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on his
lips. He bends to make it easier on me and we press together as I enjoy the
heat passing between us.

“Thank
you for saving me,” I say with care. His gaze permeates. Before he can respond
I blurt, “I need to shower.”

Taking
my hand, he leads me through the bedroom and into the bath. Reaching into the
shower, he turns the water to hot.

“If
you don’t mind I’m going to have your things moved here. I’m not sure what will
happen to you if left alone, so I think it safer if you stay with me.” A
half-smile sasses his lips. Oh, my heart lurches and flutters. Leaning over to
me his, lips connect with my forehead in a feather-light kiss and then he’s
gone.

I’m
left staring at myself in the mirror, eyes wide as I contemplate the night ahead.
I’m in his room, about to get into his shower, will I sleep in his bed? I
shiver and wrap my arms around myself with the tempting, but nerve wracking
thought. “One day at a time,” I whisper while stripping out of my jeans and
sweater. It hits me that this day has felt like a week, so much has happened.
Naked, I slide into the steaming shower, the hot water working to erase the
remaining unwanted emotions.

I
stand there, unmoving, for minutes. In time I wash my hair, scrubbing it clean
before grabbing the soap and a washcloth to work the lather into my skin,
washing and kneading my tense muscles. My hands sting from the scrapes on the
pavement so I let the water soothe them. For long untold minutes I relax in the
shower, working out the stress from the evening.

Eventually,
when my fingers are pruned and I’m water-logged I step out, toweling off and
wrapping a soft hotel robe over my bare shoulders. Taking my time, I blow-dry
my hair using my fingers to brush through the curls. The result is a full, wild
mane of auburn waves framing my pale face. All but for a small circle of pink
at the tip of my cheeks, my face is devoid of color, the shower unable to erase
all of the after-effects of the panic experienced not long ago.

Folding
my arms around my midsection, I head into the suite. On some level I know I’m
naked underneath the robe, but I make no move to change. Colin and I were
pretty clear with each other this morning; something is going to happen between
us. My skin tingles at the thought and my spiked breathing isn’t under control
when I see him sitting on the couch, two inches of amber liquid floating in a
tumbler resting on his knee. His face is reserved, hard even.

He
looks up as I step through the door; our eyes connect when walking to the bar
for my own drink. We remain silent as I pour a good amount of brandy into a
short glass, sipping it as I walk to sit next to him.

It
seems like ages before he says something. The brandy has heated my insides,
taking the last edge off of my nerves. “You finally have some color in your
cheeks,” he says as he studies my face.

“I
feel better now.” My lids flutter closed as I inhale deeply, testing the truth
of my statement. I’m fine, better than fine now that I’m here with him. When I
open my eyes he’s close and my heart-rate spikes at his proximity.

“I
don’t want to hurt you, Charlie,” he breathes into me. My brow furrows because
I don’t understand what he means. “You were attacked today and I don’t want to
add to your fear,” he takes a deep breath, “but I want you.”

“Oh.”
I can’t help the word as it escapes spontaneously. In this minute of clarity I
know I was lost the moment I saw him; in that first second when my eyes
connected with his there was a certain level of understanding my life would
never be the same. I'm taking a new path and he is at the end of it. No matter
what happens between us, he will become a part of me and I’ll take him with me
forever.

I
don’t know why it’s him—his life as complicated as mine—but for whatever
reason, this is meant to happen between us. I’ve never been more sure of
anything. With that in mind, I set my glass on the side table and reach over to
take his from his hands. When I turn back his eyes are smoldering, lips parted
to bear his labored breathing. Placing my hands on either side of his face, I
pull him closer.

“I’m
not afraid of you,” I whisper into his parted mouth as I touch my lips to
his softly, inviting him to take me. I want him—for the first time in my life I
want to feel a man, this man, moving against me and in me.

I
moan as he deepens the kiss, his tongue tasting and licking the sweet brandy
from my lips.

Colin
holds my waist, squeezing against the thick fabric of the hotel robe. I delve
my fingers into his hair, pulling him closer, moving from gentle to demanding.
He leans into me, shifting his weight so my body reclines back into the pillows
of the couch. His lips and tongue devour in their urgency; there's no space
between us now with his chest pressed to my breasts.

One
of his hands snakes into the hair at the nape of my neck holding me still. The
other trails to my neck, his fingers a tender caress as they move to my
clavicle and rest heated, just above the opening of the robe. He drags his
mouth away, his harsh breath mingling with mine as I wait for him to move, but
it doesn’t come. I open my eyes to the raw depths of his, silently asking for
permission to continue.