Evangeline

 

I’d been living with fear for weeks now, but I’d never in my life been as terrified as this.

The stalker was in my apartment. My apartment. Despite all the security I had surrounding me, he was actually inside my bathroom—to put those horrible, sickening rats in my linen closet.

Phone calls and messages were bad enough. They made you feel exposed, vulnerable, at the mercy of someone else’s will. But an intrusion like this was something worse, something more. This apartment wasn’t my home—it was just the place I was staying while I shot this film. But it still felt like my private space, and it was a horrible violation, as well as an obvious threat.

If he could get into this place—despite Cole’s best efforts—then he could get to me anywhere, anytime he wanted.

Nowhere I went would be safe.

I was huddled in a ball on my bed, still wearing nothing but a towel and wet hair, and I was trying to talk myself into pulling it together. But I couldn’t. I kept seeing those mutilated bodies on the white towels. Here. Where it was supposed to be safe.

A wave of nausea slammed into me as Cole came back into the bedroom, looking as grim as anyone I’d ever seen.

He would be beating himself up. I knew exactly how he was feeling. And ironically, despite everything, I felt a pull of empathy—recognizing how badly he’d feel about this failure and how much he would take it to heart.

“Get up,” he said. “We’re getting out of here.”

I blinked at him, uncomprehending. When he’d found me in the bathroom, he’d been protective, almost tender. He’d called me “sweetheart.” A little part of me had heard the words and liked them.

But he was nothing like that now. He was cool and hard and professional, and it was like a slap in the face.

“Get up,” he repeated. “We can’t stay here. The apartment has been compromised. I need to get you somewhere safe.”

It made sense, even through the fuzziness of my mind, but I couldn’t get my body to react immediately. “The rats…,” I began, hit with more intense nausea as the picture of the bloody corpses revived in my mind.

“I’ll have someone collect them for evidence,” he said, “but you’re not staying here a minute longer. Get up. Right now.”

He wasn’t rude as much as coolly efficient, and it was almost a relief now. Something I could cling to, something sane and competent in a world that was nothing but sickening chaos. I tried to sit up and halfway managed it, and then Cole reached out to pull me to my feet.

I swayed and my knees buckled briefly, but he kept me upright.

I was starting to get my body under control when I saw that my top dresser drawer was partway opened.

I never left drawers opened. They always bugged me if they weren’t closed all the way.

I gripped Cole’s arm urgently and choked. “The drawer. He was in my…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. I felt the blood drain out of my face for the second time in less than five minutes.

I kept my lingerie in my top dresser drawer. And this monster’s hands would have been all over them.

All of it. Everything. Violated.

The nausea hit again, and this time it was too much. I started to gag as my body violently rejected what my mind simply couldn’t accept. There was no way I could go into the master bath again, so I ran for the half bath in the hallway, making it just in time to vomit into the toilet.

I was on my knees on the floor, tears streaming down my face when I was done.

Cole was there too, lifting me to my feet, wiping my face with a damp hand towel, letting me lean on him.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, one of his arms holding me against his body. I needed his warmth and his strength, so I couldn’t possibly pull away yet. “You can’t stay here any longer.”

“Okay.” My throat was raspy, and I was still shaking, but the idea of leaving this horrible place was such a relief that I managed to straighten up. “I need clothes.”

Cole helped me to a chair in the hallway and then went back into the bedroom. He returned with my phone and some clothes for me to put on.

Millions had seen me mostly naked, so I wasn’t particularly bothered with modesty. I was too upset to worry about it now anyway. I dropped the towel and pulled on the underwear, leggings, and oversized sweater he’d brought me, without making much effort to hide myself from Cole.

He kept his head turned away from me—out of general civility, I assumed—but he didn’t turn his back, and he didn’t leave the hall.

When I was dressed, we collected what he needed and my bag, and we left. Cole made sure I was safely in the chauffeured car before he started to contact people and make a plan.

I sure wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of the tone he was using with everyone he talked to. Of course, I actually had been on the receiving end of a similar tone from him, and it had only made me angry. But he was different now. Like there was a dangerous coldness to his anger that he’d never shown to me.

He made arrangements for the police to come and for the rats to be collected as evidence. “Should we wait for the police?” I asked when he hung up on one of his calls. “Won’t they want to talk to us?”

“Yes, but you’re not going to hang around here. You can talk to the police tomorrow.”

I opened my mouth to ask another question, but he was already on a different call. I listened to a blistering interrogation about the security of the apartment building until he got out of the car to have the phone conversations right outside the car.

He didn’t leave me alone even though he was no longer in the car. Someone would still have to get through him to get to me.

It made me feel a little better—even his anger did—knowing the stalker would have to face that anger if he made a move on me directly.

I was at loose ends and wanted to do something, so I dialed up Sebastian’s number without thinking.

He wouldn’t be able to help me—since he was far away—but he was my friend and I needed all I could get right now.

“Hey,” Sebastian said, picking up on the fourth ring. “What’s the matter?”

It was kind of late. He probably hadn’t expected to be interrupted. So I told him about the rats without preamble.

“Shit,” Sebastian breathed when I was finished. There was a pause as he obviously tried to take it in. Then, “Shit.”

“It’s… horrible.”

“Where’s Cole?”

“He’s working on it. He’s right outside the car.”

“How the hell could he have gotten into the apartment?”

“That’s what Cole is trying to figure out.”

“Where are you going now?”

“I don’t know. Cole said he needed to get me out of the apartment, and I couldn’t possibly stay there now anyway. He said he was going to take me to somewhere safe, but I don’t know where could be safe enough.”

“My family has a place in DC with security like Fort Knox. It’s usually used for visiting executives, but it’s empty a lot of time. No one is in it this week. You can stay there if you don’t mind the drive.”

“I don’t. I just want to be somewhere safe.”

“It’s safe. I promise. We’ve used it before for a couple of our security jobs. Cole will know where it is.”

“That sounds good,” I said, startled when the car door opened without warning and Cole crawled in beside me.

“What sounds good?” he demanded, frowning intensely at seeing me on the phone. “Who is that?”

“Sebastian. He has an idea about where we can go.”

I’d barely gotten the sentence out when Cole was taking the phone from my hands and talking to Sebastian himself. He didn’t sound very friendly. He didn’t sound anything like friends.

I wondered if he was annoyed with Sebastian for some reason or if he was always this way. He definitely wasn’t the warm-fuzzy type.

Cole evidently agreed with staying in the Maxwell place, and he handed me the phone back when he was done.

“Why did you call Sebastian?” he demanded in clipped tones.

I blinked, distracted from the fear that was starting to make me shiver again. “What do you mean?”

“I assume you called him and he didn’t call you.”

“No, he didn’t call me. I called him. Why shouldn’t I? This whole thing is appalling.”

“I know it’s appalling. What I don’t know is what he could do about it.”

“What’s the matter with you?” I snapped, the surge of annoyance almost a relief since it was familiar and controllable. “He’s your partner, and he had a good idea about where we could stay. He’s also a friend of mine.”

“I know he is.”

I peered at his face, realizing he was offended or hurt or something about my asking Sebastian for help, rather than relying completely on him. From the time we’d spent together already, I knew how independent and self-sufficient and unbreakably proud he was. Maybe he saw the innocuous call as a slight on his abilities.

It wasn’t, of course. Despite what I’d said to Cole over the past week, I didn’t think anyone could have done a better job than he’d done. There were forces at work here that were beyond the scope of one man to get a handle on, but if anyone could do it, Cole could.

I didn’t call Sebastian because I didn’t trust Cole to keep me safe, but maybe Cole thought I had.

“Have you always been this way?” I asked, genuinely wanting the answer, even though the reflections had all been in my mind, so the question was out of the blue.

“What way?” Cole’s eyes searched my face.

“Like you have to conquer the world single-handedly.”

He looked briefly surprised but not offended as I’d half expected. “That’s pretty much the way it’s always worked.”

“Maybe because you refuse to accept help when it’s offered.”

“Help usually comes with strings.”

His expression was slightly closed off, but I could tell he meant it. His experiences had taught him not to rely on anyone but himself.

“Even from friends?” I asked softly. He wasn’t completely alone. He had real friends. Close friends. Surely that would make a difference.

Something broke on his face very briefly, and his lips parted like he might speak. But he didn’t. He gave his head a little shake and turned away from me.

***

We didn’t talk much on the drive to DC, and unfortunately, that left me too much time to brood over what had just happened.

Every way I looked at it, it was a nightmare. The stalker had access to my apartment, which meant he was incredibly talented at breaking and entering or he was using someone I trusted.

Or maybe he was someone I trusted.

I couldn’t stand the idea of it, and by the time we’d gotten to the gated street and the expensive townhouse owned by the prestigious Maxwell family, I was almost sick again at the thought of such a betrayal.

The townhouse was as safe as we could want it to be—complete with neighborhood security, top-of-the-line alarms, limited access to the outside, and even a panic room.

If I was going to feel safe anywhere, it would be here.

I was still trembling as Cole showed me to a bedroom. It was obviously the master since the panic room was attached. It was decorated with big antiques and lush colors, but I hardly noticed the décor.

“Are you okay?” Cole asked. He’d been watching me a lot, but I had no idea what he was thinking.

“Yes.” I wasn’t sure I was okay, but what else could I say? I put my bag down on the bed and felt strangely tiny next to the high mattress and huge walnut posters. And then something hit me. Turning, I said, “I want my life back. I can’t stand this constant out of control feeling.” I began to pace. “I’m so tired of being scared and right now—more than anything else—I’m angry.”

He studied me for a long moment before walking over and taking me by the hand.

“What are you…?”

“I know exactly what will help,” he said cryptically as he led me through the main floor and then down a flight of stairs. He hit a switch on the wall and released my hand. “What do you think?”

Looking around, I was mildly unimpressed. “It’s a gym,” I said. “I don’t think a couple of miles on the treadmill is going to help with this rage I’m feeling.”

He laughed softly. “No, I wouldn’t imagine so. But what about the opportunity to punch something?”

Not that got my attention.

He nodded toward the far corner of the room, and sure enough, there was a large punching bag hanging from the ceiling. Never in my life had I considered punching anything, but right now, I could see the appeal.

Cole must have read the interest on my face because he grinned and motioned for me to follow him. He turned on more lights and grabbed a couple of pairs of boxing gloves.

“I have to admit, I was going to come down here and do this after you went to sleep,” he admitted. “But after what you just admitted, I figured you could probably benefit from a little time with the bag too.”

“I’ve never hit anything in my life,” I said with a small laugh. “I never wanted to.”

He looked at me with one dark brow arched. “Really? Even me?”

I couldn’t even try and suppress my laugh. “Okay, I’ll admit, I’ve been very tempted to punch you a time or two.”

“Well, now’s your chance.”

My eyes went wide. “What? I thought you said I was going to punch the bag?”

He smiled. A real smile. I couldn’t help but soften at the sight. This was the first time I ever saw him so relaxed—which was crazy considering the night we’d had so far.

He didn’t respond right away. First he helped me get the gloves on, and he tied them tight to secure them. Then he took care of his own.

I couldn’t believe how incredibly sexy he looked.

“Okay, I’m going to walk you through some of the basic moves so you don’t overextend and hurt yourself,” he explained. “We’ll take it slow, and then you’ll practice hitting my hands and then the bag. Sound good?”

I nodded, anxious to start.

For the next several minutes, Cole explained how to stand and how to move my arms in a way that was controlled for maximum impact. At first it felt a little bit awkward, but I found my rhythm, and soon I was mirroring his moves. It was almost like a choreographed dance.

He stopped and came to stand in front of me—his hands held out in front of him. “Okay, I want you to use your right hand to punch my left,” he explained. “Ready?”

I nodded again and then followed his direction. Pulling back, I then put all my energy into making contact with his glove. When it did, it was the best feeling. I looked at Cole and smiled. “How was that?”

He chuckled. “Not bad, slugger. Now let’s try using your left hand to punch my right.”

After alternating several times, he showed me how to work the bag. I stood back mesmerized as I watched him move. His T-shirt was snug and didn’t hide the play of muscles on his back, his arms. I always knew Cole was strong and muscular, but to see him in action like this was almost hypnotic.

“You ready to try?” he asked, totally taking me by surprise.

“Uh…”

“You can pretend it’s my face you’re punching.”

At that moment, punching him was the last thing on my mind.

Cole stepped around me and then pressed up close against my back. “C’mon, Maybelline,” he murmured, “you know you want to hit me.”

I knew what he was doing—taunting me so I’d step up to the bag and start swinging. I already felt a little bit better after the few punches I’d done against his hands, how much better would I feel after letting loose on the bag?

“What’s the matter, princess,” he added smoothly, “too prissy to work up a sweat?”

And that was all it took. I stepped in close and punched the bag once. Then again.

And then I couldn’t seem to stop.

I punched for every scary phone call, for all the twisted deliveries, for all the times my life had been turned upside down by a sick individual, and then I punched some more for all the times Cole had teased me.

I was panting and breathing heavy and let out a kind of a primal scream when Cole stepped up behind me and urged me to step back and take a break.

“Easy there, Tiger,” he said. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

I knew enough about working out to know that you didn’t want to overdo it on a new exercise, but this just felt so good. Which is what I told him.

He nodded and laughed again. “I know. But this is going to be home for at least a little while so you can come down here any time and work out all of your anger and frustration.”

It was little consolation at the moment, but I knew I needed to be careful. No need to add muscle aches to the growing list of things messing with my life.

“Five more minutes,” he said as he took a step away. “I’m going to go and grab us some water. I’ll be right back.”

I immediately took advantage of the time and pounded on the bag a bit more. By the time Cole was back with two bottles of water, I was ready to call it a day.

He helped me remove my gloves and then handed me my drink. We stood in companionable silence while we cooled down. Soon we were turning off the lights and heading back up the stairs.

 “Do you want anything to eat?” he asked as we walked by the kitchen. “There isn’t much here, but we could probably whip up something.”

“No. It’s late.” I swallowed and toed off my shoes. “I think I’ll just shower and go to bed.”

“That sounds like a good plan.”

I walked away and took a quick shower. It felt good after working out. When I stepped out of the bathroom a few minutes later wearing nothing but my panties an oversized t-shirt, I was surprised to find Cole standing in the bedroom.

He nodded toward the chaise under the large window. “I’m going to sleep there. I’m not going to leave you alone. Not even to sleep.”

I wasn’t annoyed by this high-handedness. It was a relief. I didn’t want to be alone. It terrified me. “Okay.”

Cole went into the bathroom while I was crawling under the covers, and he returned wearing his pants but no shirt and no shoes.

He might look like he was ready for bed, but I didn’t really think he was going to sleep.

I was damned sure I wasn’t going to sleep tonight.

I’d fallen into a strange, blank daze by going through the motions of everyday routines, but the fear hit me again when Cole turned off the overhead light, leaving the big room lit by only the bedside light

“You’ll be safe here,” he said, his eyes searching my face again, as if looking for signs of an impending collapse.

I wasn’t entirely confident the collapse was at bay. It could hit me at any minute.

“If you keep acting all nice with me, I’ll know for sure the situation is desperate.” I managed a ghost of a smile.

He gave a soft huff of amusement. “You call this nice?”

“Well, relatively speaking since you’re usually all mean and snappish.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve snapped my fair share this evening.” He’d stepped over close to me, and I reached to hold on to his arm, needing stability, needing something.

“Yeah. But it feels like it’s in a nicer way.”

He smiled faintly, that intensity still holding his gaze with mine, like neither of us could look away. “That’s me. Snappishly nice.”

I couldn’t hold back a little giggle, but even as I was laughing, the vision of those decapitated rats hit me again, and the giggle transformed into a gurgle that turned into a choked sob. The boxing had been a great distraction, but now that all was quiet, everything came rushing back.

Embarrassed by the sudden breakdown, I turned away from Cole so he wouldn’t see my changed expression.

“Shit,” he muttered, turning me back around and pulling me against him. “You’re safe here, Evangeline. I promise.”

I clung to him, feeling small and weak and too scared. “I don’t feel safe.”

His arms tightened around me. “What can I do to make you feel safer?”

“Stay with me,” I whispered, stroking his hard back and feeling the strength of him in the lines and muscles. “Stay with me tonight.”

“I already told you I would.” His voice was slightly hoarse, and his body was feeling tense.

It was a tension that spoke to me though—that I wanted to feel even more, that seemed to hold the nightmare at bay.

“No.” I pulled back enough to look up at his face and deep eyes. “I want you stay with me. All the way.”

He couldn’t fail to know what I was talking about. It was obvious in the way I was touching him, in the way I was gazing up at him. And I knew he wanted it too. That tension was arousal as much as anything else.

For a moment a flicker of conflict was visible on his face, but then it disappeared in a wave of passion. He reached down to take my face in both his hands the way he had before, and he released a soft groan as he leaned down into a kiss.

The kiss was just as hungry as the first one had been, but it felt even needier, more desperate this time. He seemed to need me as much as I needed him.

Our lips and tongues tangled as I pressed my body against his, wanting to feel how big and hard and capable he was by the feel of his body.

I was already turned on, despite the trauma of earlier in the evening, but my need was as much emotional as physical—as if Cole and his strength was the only thing holding off the darkness.

His hands slid down to cup my bottom, and he pressed me against his groin, which had hardened in an obvious way.

He broke the kiss briefly to mutter, “Sometimes trauma can lead to this sort of thing. It might just be the trauma that’s making you think you want this.”

I groaned in frustration because I wanted to kiss him again. My hands were sliding over the firm skin of his bare back, and my fingers squeezed under his waistband to reach even lower. “Why does it matter why I want this? I want this. So much. Right now.” I rubbed myself against his arousal until he groaned. “Don’t you?”

“You know damned well I do.”

“So take what you want.”

He groaned again, differently this time, and kissed me again. This time the kiss took us into the bed, and I wrapped my legs around him as he buried his face against my neck, nibbling and kissing in a way that made me squirm.

When I was fumbling with the button on his pants, he wrapped his fingers around my wrist to stop me. “Slow down, sweetheart,” he murmured thickly. He moved my arm so it was lying on the bed beside me. “Slow down.”

I was panting and flushed, wanting to bury myself in the sensations so I could forget about everything else. I moaned in frustration and arched up into his body. “I don’t want to slow down.”

He gave me a wolfish smile. “But it will be better that way.”

Despite his words, his expression and his touch were neither teasing nor playful. They were intense, unexpectedly gentle as he pulled the T-shirt off over my head and started to kiss and caress his way down my body.

I could see how much he liked my body by the way his eyes heated up. It was thrilling, intoxicating, that this strong, capable man wanted me so much.

His mouth closed over one of my nipples, and the soft touch was almost torturous. I couldn’t keep my hips still as I clawed lines down his back in my frustration.

“Cole, please,” I gasped, fisting one of my hands in his hair.

He lifted his head. “Let me give this to you, sweetheart.”

My mouth parted with a silent cry when his hand slipped between my legs and found my wet arousal. Then the cry found its voice when he started to pump with two fingers.

I rode his fingers eagerly as an orgasm built up and then broke inside me. I was panting loudly when I came down from the high, and my body relaxed a little.

But then Cole was being gentle again, kissing his way softly down my belly.

“Cole, please,” I said again in a slightly different tone this time.

He looked up again at my words. “I want to give you more. Especially after everything that’s happened. I didn’t want to be rough. I want it to be…”

He didn’t finish, but I understood what he meant. And it touched me. He was trying to be careful, to be gentle, to make sure this was good for me—no matter what his own body demanded.

But he didn’t understand what I wanted at all.

I shook my head and reached up to cup his rugged face. “But I don’t want soft and gentle. I want… I need for you to be… strong.” I saw his expression change, so I repeated, “I want to feel you be strong. Please, Cole. Be strong for me.”

“Damn right, I will,” he said gruffly, the tension in his body transforming palpably. The fire blazed up in his eyes even more, and I knew that, at last, he was going to give us what we both wanted from tonight.