Chapter 8 – Disintegrated

 

Addy –

The brisk walk out of the White House to Crew’s Jag was just enough to calm my body, preparing for the trip home. He held my hand all the way to the car and I let him. I tried not to think about Sheldon, or Crew and his searing kiss that practically swept me off my feet. I tried not thinking about anything besides my next task. And it’s a big one, requiring all the mind space I could manage.

As we left the District, Crew asked if I enjoyed myself. He asked if I was okay. He asked who the man was in the Red Room. Then he asked what we were talking about and more specifically, what he was saying to me. His questions started out bland, but became more and more intense with each one.

Finally, he was agitated when he asked why I left his side when he explicitly told me not to. I looked at him and after giving him multiple non-answers, frowned. “Need I remind you, Crew Vega, it was you who left me standing under the portrait of George Washington.”

This, thankfully, shut him up. His jaw turned hard as he fisted his steering wheel with brute force. At least he quit asking questions, leaving me to my thoughts so I could focus and plan.

But as much as I tried, I couldn’t. It was all I could do to concentrate on the dark of night outside my window, barely keeping it together. If I let my mind think about what needed to be done, a weight fell over me that was so substantial, it was dreadful.

I absolutely couldn’t take it. I did everything in my power not to think about Bev and Morris, or Van, Evan, Clara and Maggie. I didn’t think about Mary, or my cows, or the business I’ve come to love and a house that’s slowly become a home. I did everything I could not to think about the countryside that was lonely and secluded, but has become a peaceful and lovely place to be.

It was impossible not to wonder about Crew as he drove me home. I’d barely known him a week, but his mysterious aura couldn’t be ignored, confusing me to no end. I shouldn’t have felt safe with a man I hardly know. I should’ve questioned him as to why he commanded I stay by his side and how he knew about my obsession with Laffy Taffy. I should’ve demanded to know why it feels like he knows me when no one really knows me at all. Especially, most importantly, why he kissed me when he did at the White House.

Because his kiss wasn’t merely a kiss. Crew staked his claim, unrestrained, unable to hold back another second. Damn it if I didn’t like both. A lot. Way more than I should, especially now since I’ll never have it again.

*****

 

I’m immediately pulled out of my thoughts when Crew hits the gas and I’m jerked back into my seat with the sudden force. Simultaneously, he roughly grabs my thigh, rumbling, “Hang on.”

“What?” I barely get the word out of my mouth when we’re hit from behind. Our bodies jerk forward in our seatbelts, but he must have sped up enough to deflect a lot of the impact since the airbags don’t deploy.

“Fuck me,” Crew mutters, releasing my leg to fist the steering wheel as he quickly changes lanes.

I’ve been in such a fog after what happened in the Red Room, I have to look around to see where we are. We’re far enough out of the metro where the interstate isn’t too busy.

I grab my door and the console to steady myself when Crew changes lanes so quickly, the car jerks dramatically to the left.

“Aren’t you going to stop?” I ask.

Crew, looking intently between the road ahead of us and his mirrors, growls, “We’re not stopping, Addison. That was no accident.”

I turn to look out my side window just in time to see a black sedan veer toward us so sharply, I scream.

“They’re trying to hit us?” I exclaim, but he doesn’t answer. I can’t even think about who’s trying to hit us or why. Because I don’t think it’s us. After tonight, I’m sure it’s me.

Crew must have accelerated again, swerving to the left. When we hit the highway guardrail, sparks fly. Crew speeds around another car where the black sedan can’t keep up and we swiftly cross two lanes to the right across traffic.

“Turn around and get your head down,” Crew demands.

I’m not sure if he’s forgotten how small his car is, but I lean down in my seat as far as I can. We’re racing by cars so quickly—they appear to be at a crawl on the interstate.

“Stay down—I’m getting off.”

Perfectly timed, he changes lanes just in time to exit the highway. I turn and see the black sedan force another car out of their lane, causing it to spin. Another car T-bones it so forcefully, they skid across the highway.

“Oh shit! They crashed. We have to do something.” I turn back to Crew and when I do, he swings his arm out, pinning me to my seat like an iron bar. When I look forward, we’re heading full speed to an intersection off the highway. I scream the second he hits the brakes and cranks the wheel hard to the left.

The rear of Crew’s Jag spins to the right and we fishtail, back and forth, until he punches the gas again and we dart down a two lane highway that’s dark and barren. I turn and barely breathe a sigh of relief before I see headlights careening around the corner after us.

The words, “Oh fuck,” scarcely pass my lips when he guns it again, but the black sedan does, too. Crew’s Jag, which was a smooth and comfortable ride on the way into the city, is proving its image isn’t just for show. It’s handling the hills and valleys like a superstar.

“I told you to turn around and get down, Addison,” he bites out, frustrated.

I pivot back to the front and mutter as my heart goes a mile a minute, “What’s happening?”

“Damn it! Get your head down.” He hits his brakes so hard, my body is thrown forward. I not only feel it, but hear the tires on the road squeal.

We’re yanked to the left and I realize he’s changed lanes. When I look over, he’s hunched as low as he can get, and just in time. Gun shots ring out in the night, and I scream again, hearing one catch the back of Crew’s Jag.

Peeking out my window, I see the sedan zoom past us, trying to slow down.

But Crew’s faster. He doesn’t even come to a complete stop, spinning the back of the car and we turn right, down a dirt road, even darker than the one we were on because the forest’s encompassing it. The second I hear gravel flying, pinging against the car, Crew flips his lights off. I have no idea how he can see where we’re going with the darkness besieging us.

He takes a left, and then another quick right, down more gravel roads. I turn to look out the rear window between us. Nothing.

Jerking the car one last time, he flips us left into a drive that’s made of merely two tire tracks and quickly maneuvers us into the middle of a field. Just as quickly and deftly as he’s done so far, he turns off his car.

I hadn’t even noticed but all this time, the music continued to play. Jumper by Third Eye Blind breaks through the heavy silence. That is, until Crew bangs the dashboard so hard, I’m sure he broke the controls, right before hitting the steering wheel. With his voice bellowing through his small car, he shouts, “Fuck!”

My chest is heaving—my breaths out of control. I hear my heart pounding in my ears. I’ve got one hand on the window next to me and the other is gripping the console. The weight bearing down on me from this evening’s events are so heavy, I can scarcely keep it at bay. All I see is the dark field in front of us, lit only by the stars.

Just when I close my eyes, praying Crew outran them—whoever they are—I yelp, jerking when I feel a hand on me.

“Shh,” he tries to calm me when he turns my face to his. His eyes roam my features and I realize he’s not breathing hard at all while I’m practically hyperventilating. His voice, so different than just a few seconds ago, comes at me soft and soothing. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

I instantly shake my head in his hand. No, nothing is okay. But he doesn’t know that.

His eyes narrow slightly, but his tone stays the same. “Do you know what that was about?”

Probably too quickly, I refute, “No. I’ve no idea.”

He looks at me, assessing me, probably trying to figure out how to get rid of me, and quickly. I’ve been nothing but trouble all night. I’m sure he’s regretting the carpool.

Then he slides his hand up and under my jaw and into my hair, pulling my forehead to his lips. Staying there, I have to squeeze my eyes shut when he whispers, “Relax, Addison. I’ll take you home. You’re safe.”

He has no idea what he’s talking about. I squeeze my eyes tighter to keep my tears at bay, breathing deeply to find control.

When he lets me go, I open my eyes. He strangely doesn’t speak about the car chase, being shot at, his Jag being hit, scuffed, or driven to its limits. He says nothing about the Red Room, our kiss, or why he demanded I not leave his side tonight. He simply says, “Let’s get you home.”

I don’t know whether to be confused or relieved. I do know I want this night to be over. For some reason someone is after me, and it has everything to do with my dad.

*****

 

When Crew’s Jag rolls to a stop at my front door, I waste no time climbing out. My heels are clicking up the stone steps when I hear him call for me.

“Addison, wait.”

Ignoring him, my hands tremble as I search for my key. When I pull it out of my clutch, trying to steady myself to unlock the door, it’s swiped out of my hand.

I whip around to face him, scarcely steadying my voice. “Give that back.”

He doesn’t say anything, but pulls his hand through his hair and looks at me intently. “Let me come in. We can talk.”

I shake my head, putting space between us until my back hits the door. “I’m tired.”

He moves into me, barely allowing any space between us, and as firm as his hand is on my hip, his voice is just as gentle. “Please. This’s been a crazy night and you’re scared. Let me come in so you’re not by yourself.”

Biting the inside of my lip, I swallow over the lump in my throat, holding myself together. “I’m sorry, not tonight. I’m fine.”

“Addison,” he calls, his voice gravely, coming out as a plea.

I give my head a little shake, whispering, “I’m sorry.”

His eyes slowly close as he drops his head. When he finally opens them, he looks up and to the side, as if he’s thinking. His hand at my hip grips me tighter when he finally looks me in the eyes, shaking his head.

I tense when he leans in, thinking he’s going to kiss me again, but he doesn’t. His freshly shaved, smooth face brushes my cheek, sending tingles down my spine. He steps forward, his firm body presses into mine. Inhaling deeply, he breathes into my ear, “I’m sorry I left you. I’ll never do it again. Ever.”

His simple words aren’t only an apology, they’re a vow. I hear it in his whisper so I nod against the side of his face, even though it won’t matter because he won’t have a chance to prove it. He brushes his lips against the sensitive skin under my ear and I have to squeeze my eyes to overcome his touch.

When he pulls away to look at me, he says in a low voice, “I’ll come back tomorrow. We’ll talk.”

That’s not going to happen. “Okay.”

My hip gets another squeeze and he leans in, this time firmly planting a kiss on my forehead. I fight the urge to tip my head, inviting him to really kiss me, to lay claim to me like he did earlier, just one more time.

But I don’t and he backs away, unlocking my door. When he turns the knob, the beeps of the security system pull me back to reality. Crew stays where he is as I step inside to punch in my code.

“I’ll be by tomorrow,” he promises when I turn to him.

I say nothing, but simply look at him. Doing my best, I let my eyes drag over his body. He blends in with the night sky in his black suit as I memorize every beautiful inch—his dark eyes and hair, his broad frame, and long powerful legs. When I look down, I’m hypnotized by his hands, remembering how they felt on me, commanding, strong, and warm.

“You okay? You didn’t get banged up in the car?” His voice cuts through the quiet and I look up quickly.

I ignore him, my voice coming out short and clipped. “Thank you. For tonight.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Goodbye, Crew.”

“Tomorrow,” he reiterates.

With that, I inch the door closed until I lose sight of him. I lean my forehead to the door, needing to calm myself. Taking a moment, a much needed pause, I wait for Crew to leave and prepare for the painful task I’m dreading. I dread it to my toes, my insides twisted and turned with torment. As much as I don’t want to, after what happened tonight, I know what I must do. Forcing my body to move, quietly, I lock the knob and deadbolt and arm the security system before ripping at my shoes.

All of a sudden—I’m in such a state—I break the clasp on one silver heel trying to get it off my ankle. Leaving them by the front door, I sprint up the stairs to the second floor bedroom I use for storage. Heaven knows I don’t need all these extra rooms—I never have overnight company. Rushing to the closet, I grab my two largest suitcases plus another small one, doing my best to manage them up to the third floor.

Running to my large walk-in closet, I reach on my tippy toes for my mom’s box. I have loads of my mom’s things around the house, but I can’t leave without this. It has everything important to me in this world. My favorite pictures of us together, a few of all three of us before my dad died, her wedding ring, a tattered copy of Gone with the Wind that she read more times than I’ll ever know, and every single postcard she sent while I was in college. She never missed a day. Not one. She always said she had fun looking for the silliest and most obscure cards she could find. And every day the mail was delivered while I was at UCLA for four years, I knew she was thinking of me. Now that she’s gone, I’m so thankful I kept them all.

Needless to say, the box is big as I heave it down off the shelf. I set it in the middle of the room and dash back for clothes and shoes. I pack fast, throwing only the essentials in the largest of the suitcases and head to my bathroom. Snatching a tote out of the linen closet, I mindlessly shovel in all the makeup and bath necessities that will fit. It’s bulging out the top, but it’ll do for now.

It’s after midnight. I wonder how far I can get tonight before I’ll need to stop for sleep. The thought makes my eyes sting, but I fight it back, needing to concentrate on what I’m doing.

Finally, I grab the last suitcase and go to my dresser, tossing armfuls of clothes inside.

“You goin’ somewhere?”

I shriek at the deep voice breaking into my freak-out, spinning around instantly. When I see him, I back into my dresser violently, my hands grasping in an effort to steady myself. Picture frames, jewelry holders and perfume bottles rock, something behind me crashes to the floor from the force of my body.

He’s standing in my doorway, leaning casually against the jamb. My heart beats desperately making my head spin, my lungs barely catching up with my frenzied body.

The control I normally hold so dear is gone.

Disintegrated.

Desperately, my eyes comb the room realizing I have no escape. There’s only one way out and he’s blocking it.

“Well?”

My eyes dart back at the sound of his voice. The jacket and tie are gone—his black shirt is rolled at the cuffs and unbuttoned at the collar. Where he was sweet and tender on my doorstep just minutes ago, he’s sharp as he stands in the entrance of my bedroom, looking anything but relaxed.

“How did you get in here?” I whisper, barely hearing my own voice.

“Where are you going, Addison?”

Pulling my lips between my teeth, I ignore his question and try to remember how he made me feel safe just a short time ago. Swallowing hard, realization washes over me and I panic.

“I set the alarm. How did you get in?”

Since he hasn’t moved a muscle, it’s easy to see his eyes narrow. “I have my ways. Tell me what happened at the White House. What did O’Rourke say to you?”

I shake my head quickly. “Nothing.”

“He knows you.”

“Get out of my house,” I try to demand, but it doesn’t sound convincing. It sounds feeble and weak, which is how I feel, down to my toes.

My eyes pool with tears as I keep shaking my head. “I have no idea who he is. I’ve never laid eyes on him before this week.”

“I didn’t say you knew him. I said he knows you.” His head tips the other way. “Did he threaten you?”

“I don’t know what’s going on,” I tell him the truth.

“Is there a reason someone was chasing and shooting at us tonight?”

I keep shaking my head and beg, “Please, leave.”

“I want to know what he said to you, what happened on the way home, and why you’re so scared you think you’re leaving. Because I promise you, Addison, you’re not going anywhere.”

My tears spill over as the anxiety crawls through me, the way it does when I lose control. Between the Red Room incident and being chased and shot at on the way home, I can’t handle it. It’s happened since I was five. I’ve controlled it for years, probably since I was in high school, but I recognize it like it was yesterday. The panic is seeping in, beginning to strangle me.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I cry.

His piercing eyes soften, transforming his rugged, beautiful face. There’s no edge to his deep rumbly voice as he informs me, “I do know what I’m talking about. I know more than you think I do. In fact, I know more than you. There’s no way I’m letting you go anywhere.”

“You don’t know anything,” I throw my words at him, my tears coming strong.

“I do,” he insists. “I promise, if they found you here, they’ll find you again. I not only know more than you, but I know more than them. This means, I know more than everyone and trust me when I say, you’re safest here.”

“What are you talking about? Who are they, and…and why should I trust you? I don’t understand what’s going on. What do you know? How do you know anything?” My voice rises with each question, laced with terror. He can’t know anything. Especially about my parents, my past, the part of my life Sheldon O’Rourke clearly knows something about. Although I have no idea why or how he knows anything, I do know I’m not sticking around to find out. I have no idea why we were chased home, but I can only assume it has something to do with O’Rourke.

He doesn’t answer but he does push away from the jamb heading straight for me. I’m paralyzed in my spot. There’s no use in trying, I know I won’t get away, even if I wanted to.

When he reaches me, his eyes are compassionate, almost sympathetic. His hand comes to my chin, lifting my tear-stained face to his.

“I’m not letting you go anywhere. What I’m trying to tell you, is that I know everything. Everything,” he stresses before turning my world upside-down. “Abby.”

Holy! Fuck!

*****

 

Crew –

The instant I say her name, her real name, she lets out a choked sob and her whole body jolts. The color drains from her face when she gasps, “What did you say?”

I can tell she’s about to lose it and pull her to me. Her arms are pinned between us when I give her a squeeze and soften my voice. “You heard me.”

Her body goes limp and her tears keep on as she slowly shakes her head, before whispering as if she’s talking to herself, “No.”

“Yes,” I counter immediately, looking into her terrified eyes. “I know it all.”

Her head keeps shaking and she slowly looks down, away from me. Her eyes go unfocused, jumpy, and searching.

“No.” She stares at my chest, chewing on her lip. Fisting my shirt, she keeps on, “This can’t be. This isn’t happening.”

“Addison,” I try again, giving her a squeeze.

This gets her attention—her body turning rigid in my arms. Looking up at me, she screams, “No!”

I don’t have a chance to respond because her body bucks. She pushes, she pulls, she wrestles. Still in her dress, the material falls away from her shoulder on one side as she fights violently in my arms. I hold her easily as she uses all her might to get away, but there’s no way I’m giving her what she wants. Especially now.

“Let me go,” she cries, struggling in my arms.

“Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.” I grasp both her wrists in one hand, pulling her away from me long enough to turn her back to my front. When Addison’s legs attempt to kick, I wrap my other arm around her waist, lifting her off the ground.

“Please,” she begs through her sobs. Her body thrashes and twists, trying to get away from me. “I need to leave. I need to go—I can’t be here. I never thought this would happen—it’s been too long. Please let me go.”

Putting my lips to her ear, I whisper, “Stop, baby, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

Eventually, her struggling slows as her sobs become deeper. She finally turns limp in my arms where I can loosen my hold so as not to hurt her. Sliding her down my body, her legs give out when her feet hit the floor. Quickly, I reach down and scoop her up under her knees. Going to the only place in the room to sit, I move to her bed and settle her in my lap as she continues to cry. Pulling her dress back up her shoulder, I hold her tight, letting her do what she needs to do.

Minutes go by, my shirt is soaked with her tears when she finally starts to calm. Through her struggles, her hair’s a mess and falling from where she had it up earlier. I try to pull out as many pins as I can, running my fingers through her thick hair as it falls over my arm and shoulder. I keep at this until her breathing evens and her tears slow.

“I barely know you,” she mumbles into my neck after a hiccup, trying to catch her breath.

I sigh and give her a squeeze. “I know.”

“How do you know me?” she asks, gripping my shirt. “No one knows me. I don’t remember the last time anyone knew me besides my mom.”

I look over her head, deciding what to say, but I don’t stop with her hair. It’s heavy and thick and feels good on my skin.

“Crew?”

She shifts, looking up at me.

Taking a big breath, I start carefully. “I have a fair amount of clearance.”

Her face is red, splotchy, and her eyes are swollen. Smeared makeup clouds her face. But even as she frowns at me, sitting here in my arms in her twisted and wrinkled dress, she’s beautiful.

“I thought you were a government contractor.” Her voice is rough and scratchy from crying.

I let my eyes narrow. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?” she asks, confused.

I shift her in my lap to see her better and change the subject. “You’re not leaving.”

Her face starts to twist again. “I can’t stay.”

“You won’t be safe if you leave.”

“I’m not safe here,” she counters.

“You’re safer here than anywhere. And after what happened tonight, there’s no denying it,” I insist. “Trust me on this.”

She quickly shakes her head frowning. “How do you know who I am?”

I don’t answer. I’m not ready to answer that yet, even if I knew how. Instead, I fall back and to the side, taking her with me.

“What are you doing?” she exclaims, trying to push away.

I hold her close, settling us, Addison tight to my side. There’s no way I’m leaving or risking her going somewhere. Not that she could with the surveillance—but this is easier and I’m tired. I push my shoes off, kicking them to the end of her bed thinking I could get used to this.

She tries to pull away from me one more time, complaining, “If you aren’t going to tell me, you need to go.”

Rolling, I pull her up so we’re eye-to-eye. Her face is still etched with fear, but now since I’ve situated us in her bed, it’s mixed with confusion. Looking at her, I decide I’d better give her something so she’ll stop fighting me and this fucking night will be over. I’ll figure the rest out in the morning after we’ve slept.

“I told you, I have clearance in my job. I had to know who my neighbors were before I bought. It came about differently than it normally does, but I’ve read your background and we’ll talk about that tomorrow. For now, you’re not going anywhere. You’ve had a rough night—we both need some sleep.”

“Sleep? You’re staying?” She frowns deeper.

“Do you trust me?”

She doesn’t say anything for a beat and then answers quietly. “I did, but now I’m not sure.”

With my hand in her hair, I pull her to me as I meet her, putting my mouth on hers. This time I kiss her slow. She tastes and feels like she did earlier—perfect—but salty from her tears.

“You can trust me. I’ll prove it to you,” I say against her lips.

“I want to.” She pauses, breathing deep before continuing. “But I’m scared. I don’t know what to believe.”

“All you have to know is you’re safest here with me.” I give her a squeeze to echo my words. “Believe in that for tonight. But for now, get that I know what happened to your dad, I know all about you and your mom, and I know Sheldon O’Rourke had a hand in it all. He’s not a good man, Addison. I don’t want you anywhere near him. The White House dinner tonight was no coincidence, nor was that shit on the drive home. O’Rourke somehow learned you were close and lured you out. There’s a whole lot more I can’t tell you, but realize this won’t go on forever. Until then, you’re without a doubt safest here.”

“You came to the dinner tonight because of me,” she guesses.

“I did.”

“You somehow arranged to be at a White House dinner because you knew it might not be safe for me to be there on my own.”

“I absolutely knew it wouldn’t be safe for you to be there on your own. I’m mad at myself I stepped away to take a call. I had my eye on you until someone pulled me into a fucking conversation.” I frown at the memory of my mistake.

“You’ve only known me a week,” she goes on.

I breathe deep, careful with my answer. “I don’t like bad guys.”

It’s easy to feel her let a bit of tension go from her body when she sighs. “Me either.”

Shifting her closer to settle us in, my voice dips when I add, “I’m developing a real soft spot for the good guys. I don’t deal with the good guys, Addison. Only the bad guys.” Her swollen eyes flare at my words. “You’re not leaving. And I want you to trust me. Trust me for tonight and I’ll prove it to you later.”

She throws me a bone after thinking it over for a moment. “For tonight, until you can explain more tomorrow. I’m too exhausted to go anywhere.”

I shake my head, not looking forward to convincing her tomorrow. I’m not sure how to make that happen, but I’ll figure it out.

I lean in to kiss her forehead, even though what I really want to do is roll her over, take her mouth and eventually her, proving I’ll protect her from anything. “Sleep.”

Some of the tension leaves her body—I feel it as she sinks into me. Minutes later when I finally close my eyes, waiting for her to find sleep, I hear her call softly, “Crew?”

Without moving, I answer, “Hmm?”

“I’m sorry about your car.”

I sigh. “It’s just a car. Not a big deal.”

Then she fists my shirt as she whispers, “And I’m sorry about your dad.”

Fuck. It’s my turn to tense.

Turning my head, I bury my face in her hair, responding in my own whisper, “Addison.”

“I wanted to tell you earlier that I understood. Now I get to tell you.”

“Baby.”

She turns her head, nuzzling her face in my neck. “You shaved.”

Finally, I relax because I’ve felt the way she’s looked at me. I can’t say I haven’t enjoyed the hell out of it and I plan on enjoying more of it soon. As soon as I can. Letting my hand work its way from her lower back to her ass, I give her a squeeze, leaving my hand there.

“Went to the White House with you on my arm, Addison. That called for shaving.”

“Oh…um…of course,” she stutters.

I can’t fight my smile any longer. “It’ll grow back.”

Her body once again tenses against mine.

“Go to sleep,” I whisper.

“Thank you,” she says quickly into my neck before her voice turns soft. “For tonight. For everything.”

“Always,” I promise.