I pace the house, frantic with worry. I don’t have a single fingernail left at this point, having chewed all of them down to the quick. Still, I’m chewing on what little there is left, hardly noticing the taste of blood in my mouth.
What’s taking Christopher so long? I can’t stand being here alone any longer. This is torture. What did I do to deserve this shit? Every little noise, every sound makes me jump. My house is old; everything creaks. It’s terrifying.
Finally, after what feels like forever, I see lights sweep over the front windows of the living room. I run to the door, flinging it open to him. Christopher hurriedly parks the bike, then walks up the steps to meet me. He’s sweeping the area with his eyes. I manage to wait until he gets through the door before I fall into his arms.
“Oh, thank God you’re here.” I’m shaking so hard I can hardly speak, my teeth chattering. I wonder if I’m going into some sort of shock.
“You’re safe. Don’t worry. I’m here.” He wraps his arms around me, squeezing me tight.
“He knows where I live. He could be here, anywhere. Oh, my God, Christopher…”
“Would it make you feel better if I take a look around?”
“Would you?” I pull away just enough to look up into his eyes. His dark eyes. I’ve missed him so much. I didn’t even realize how much.
“I will.” He’s still holding me, his hand stroking the back of my head soothingly. What was I thinking? He would never hurt me. He never has. He’s so gentle, so sweet. So safe. I melt into him, more grateful than I’ve ever felt in my life.
“Do you want to come with me? Or would you rather stay here on the couch?”
“Please, please, let me go with you. Don’t leave me alone.”
“Okay. Let’s go.” He takes me by the hand, leading me from room to room. There isn’t much ground to cover, just a living room, dining room and kitchen on the first floor, then two bedrooms and a bathroom on the second. He checks every closet, every corner, tests every window and door for sturdiness. He even looks in the crawlspace above the upstairs hall, even though I assure him there’s no way a person could hide there. I can’t help smiling shakily when he climbs the ladder to poke his head around up there.
We end our search in the master bedroom, my bedroom. He looks under the bed, in the closet. “Is this it? No other rooms? No basement?” I shake my head. “Then it looks like you’re here alone. Well, with me. But you know what I mean. I’d like to come back at some point, maybe tomorrow if that’s okay, to tighten up the locks on the downstairs windows.”
“I don’t know what to say, except to thank you.” My voice is a whisper. I’m ashamed of myself now, thinking back to how afraid I was of him. Why? How could I have thought he was a danger to me?
“You’re welcome. Amanda, I’m here for you. I only want to be here for you. I want to protect you. Why won’t you let me?”
I can’t answer him right away. I’m overwhelmed. Instead, I cross the short distance between us and wrap my arms around his waist. He takes my chin in his hand, tilting my head back for a kiss.
Soon things heat up, as they seem to always do between us. Now it’s the way I missed him that fuels the fire I feel the moment our lips touch. I’ve missed what he does to my body. To my heart.
Before I know it, we’re falling into bed together, all thoughts of Lucas and Michelle and The Wicked Angels pushed aside for one sweet night.
###
When I open my eyes, it’s morning. The light filtering through the curtains over the bedroom windows is soft, gentle. It must be early, just after dawn.
I close my eyes again, snuggling back under Christopher’s arm. I don’t want the rest of the world anywhere near us right now. Things are perfect just as they are. It seems like our only issues crop up when the outside world sneaks in.
I haven’t felt this good since I left his house, I realize. And definitely not since Lucas first reached out to me online. I shiver at the thought, which makes Christopher stir.
“Mmm…good morning.”
I squeeze him in reply. “Can’t we stay this way forever?” I murmur, my face against his broad chest. My finger traces a line down his torso over that infamous angel surrounded by flames. I wish this thing didn’t exist.
“I know,” he replies, “believe me.” His arm tightens around me, reinforcing his words. I feel strangely happy, even in the midst of the mess I’m in. “Can I ask you something?” I dread his question, knowing what he has in mind. He takes my silence as an invitation to continue. “Why have you been avoiding me?”
I have to sit up, put a little distance between us. Besides, I want to look him in the eye. I need to know if I can get the truth from him. “This is hard for me to say.”
“I probably know what it is.” He sits up, back to the headboard.
“You do?”
“We couldn’t go on forever without you knowing who I really am. You were bound to figure out sometime. My name’s not exactly unknown. And it’s not a favorite.”
“I’m sorry. I was so scared. I mean, look at it from my point of view. I don’t know you—not really, I mean. All I find online about you is the sort of stuff the club’s been involved in. And then…well, yes. People talk. There are a lot of rumors. I know you know what they are.” I’m trying to be delicate, wanting to avoid hurting him. He’s been so good to me. “I feel like such an ass,” I admit. “Especially after everything you did for me last night. Coming here when I was so, so afraid. I can’t believe I even considered the rumors were true. But can you blame me? All the shit with Lucas? It’s practically reflexive now, believing men are out to hurt me.”
“I’m sure it was a shock to you,” Christopher acknowledges. “And you can probably imagine why I didn’t tell you my full name and life history when we were together.”
“I guess.”
“Amanda, you tried to storm out just because I insulted your baking.”
“Point taken.”
“Either way, there was one thing you could have done to clear up all the shit you were worried about. You could have asked me. Where’s the girl who gave me a raft of shit over the stupidest things back at my house? I imagined you tearing me a new one over this.”
“Christopher. This is bigger than you being a jerk.” We both fall silent. I’m fidgeting, playing with the blanket, trying to avoid his eyes. “I have to ask you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Christopher, please.”
“No. That will have to be enough for you.”
I sigh, exasperated. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. But if we’re going to go anywhere, you and I, I have to ask for at least a little honesty.”
“You want honesty?”
I look up at him, his eyes are even darker than usual. Like a shark. He’s fuming.
“I want to know you trust me. How’s that sound? I want you to trust me enough to know that no matter what the story is, I’m on your side.”
His jaw is clenching and unclenching as he decides what to say. Finally, he sighs and lets loose. “I didn’t have anything to do with Michelle’s death.”
Thank God. I release my breath in a sigh of relief. “Who did?”
“You’ll have to leave it at that. I won’t say any more about it. Just drop it now, okay?”
I’m sure it’s painful for him to talk about, especially when so many people think he did it. That probably makes it even worse. “Okay. No more questions.”
“Thank you.” His expression and tone change. “Now, about this asshole who’s stalking you.” I flinch visibly, practically jumping off the bed. He takes my hand. “I’m sorry. That was stupid of me. I just want to be sure you’re taken care of, that’s all. I won’t let anything happen to you. I swear.”
I want to believe him. I do believe him, at least for the most part. But that belief comes with curiosity. “What would you do to him?”
His eyes go nearly black. “A lot of things.”
“Christopher…I don’t want to believe you’re that kind of man.”
He nearly sneers at me. “I told you I didn’t kill my wife. I never said I’m not that kind of man.”
I shiver, pulling the blankets tight around my naked body. “You’re freaking me out a little bit.”
A frown. “I didn’t mean to. But I am serious about this. I’ll do what needs to be done. Maybe it’s best to leave that alone, too.”
I can’t lie to myself. Part of me is secretly thrilled at the thought of a man wanting to do anything, absolutely anything, to protect me. It’s a turn-on. Maybe there’s something wrong with me for liking it. Maybe I’ve been hurt for too long and am too afraid. Either way, I don’t completely hate what he’s hinting at.
What will it take for his hints to become reality?