Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“ I f you need anything, I’m only a phone call away,” Charity offers from her crouched-down position in front of Clara. After giving Clara’s forearm a final rub, she heads to the door.
“Wait up. I’ll walk you out,” I shout, not wanting another incident on my conscience.
Usually, one of the crew walks Charity to her car each night. Considering I’m the only remaining male member of Inked here, it’s my responsibility to ensure she arrives at her car safely.
Diesel and Johnny left not long after Ryan and the rest of my crew dwindled out of Inked the past thirty minutes. Although none of them are to blame for what happened to Clara, their shoulders were still weighed down with guilt. What I said to Clara weeks ago is true. What happens to one of us happens to all of us. We’re family. And whether she likes it or not, Clara is now one of us.
Clara’s massively dilated eyes lift to mine before she gently nods, acknowledging my silent question if she’s okay with me walking Charity to her car.
“I’ll be back in a minute.”
Standing from the couch, I place her down. It isn’t any easier the second time.
A humid mid-June wind greets us when we exit the back entrance of Inked. Surprisingly, the parking lot is void of the bunnies who usually frequent the space this time on a Saturday night. Perhaps they heard of the earlier incident?
My lengthened strides slow when Charity mutters, “Diesel called an hour ago. He’s got a solid lead on the guys who jumped Clara.”
I arch my brow, wordlessly demanding why I’m only being informed of this now.
“We figured if you were the only one left to watch Clara, you might actually stay put,” she mutters as her skittish eyes dart around the lot.
Her eyes snap to mine when a furious growl rumbles from my throat. “We?”
“Diesel, Johnny, and I.” She turns her eyes to the back door of Inked. “She’s not from this side of town, Brax. But even if she were, this still wouldn’t have been a pleasurable experience. You need to focus on Clara and let the boys have your back for a change.”
The anger bubbling my blood with furious heat simmers to a slow boil. Not only is everything Charity is saying true, but I also need to remember my advice. Clara is just as much family to Diesel and Johnny as she is to me. This ensures they will handle this situation to the same degree I would.
“Did Diesel call Ryan?” My words aren’t as scratchy as earlier.
Charity shakes her head. “He said he would, just not until after he has a talk with them. ”
My right shoulder lifts into a shrug. “Fair enough.”
I rub a kink in the back of my neck as my earlier conversation with Ryan runs through my head. Fuck, why did I give him my word?
Because you’re a soft cock when it comes to Ryan, that’s why.
“Can you do me a favor and call Diesel? If he hasn’t already had a solid word with them, request that he lower the severity and contact Ryan. I gave Ryan my word I’d call him if we found them in the first thirty-six hours. Considering it’s only been a few hours, I don’t want to break my word.”
Charity nods. “All right. I’ll call Diesel on my way home.” She wraps one of her tiny arms around my torso and squeezes me tight. “Look after Clara for me.”
A brief chuckle spills from my lips, spurred on by the hidden innuendo laced in her words.
I wait for Charity’s taillights to become a blur in the heavy flow of traffic before making my way back to Clara. I’m surprised to find her standing near the window of my office. From behind, you wouldn’t have a clue about the seriousness of the situation she just went through. She looks the same as she has every other day. She’s stared out that window the past four months. It is only when she spins around does the reality of the situation slam back into me. She smiles to put on a brave front, but her eyes show she’s still sitting in an incredibly deep, dark pit.
“Is everyone gone?”
I nod while striding deeper into the space. Before I can comprehend what is happening, Clara jumps. One of her hands pushes me hard in the chest, sending me sprawling onto the two-seater couch, while the other moves to the buckle on my belt.
“Whoa, Princess. What the fuck are you doing?” I don’t mean to yell at her, but I’m so beyond shocked by her reaction that my first response is anger.
Her icy-blue eyes rocket to mine. “What does it look like I’m doing, Brax?”
“It looks like you’re about to suck my cock.”
She winks before muttering, “Bingo.”
What the fuck?
I stop her frantic movements with my hands. If I weren’t a man who liked my women feisty, the fierce glare she scorches me with would have made quick work of the hard-on her eagerness has triggered.
“People handle shock differently, but sucking my cock isn’t the way to go.”
“How do you know? Have you actually tried it?”
“No, I haven’t, but sucking cock isn’t really my thing, so I’ve got nothing to go off.” I keep my tone cheeky, hoping to diffuse the seriousness of our confrontation with humor.
My optimism doesn’t last long. A heaviness slams into my chest when Clara slumps to the floor and bursts into tears.
Fuck!
Crouching down, I scoop her into my arms and flop back on the couch. I run my hand down her back as the heavy shaking hampering her body earlier returns full force, as do the wet patches on my shirt.
“It’s okay, Princess. You’re okay. Nothing like this will ever happen to you again. I promise you,” I assure her.
“You can’t guarantee that.” She hiccups through tears.
“Like hell I can’t.”
She lifts her tear-stained face off my chest before her watering eyes bounce between mine. “How?”
I remove a strand of hair stuck to her tear-drenched cheek before locking my eyes with hers. “By never letting you out of my sight. That’s how.”
Clara inhales a sharp, quick breath but remains as quiet as a sleeping baby. I draw her in close to my body and stand from the couch. After gathering her purse from the filing cabinet at the side of my office, I head to the back door of Inked.
Clara’s eyes drift between mine as I stride down the hallway, but not a word spills from her lips. By the time we make it into the parking lot, the tears flooding from her eyes have dampened to a slight trickle, and her shakes have dulled.
I adjust her position so she’s being held by one arm, before digging my hand into her purse to search for her keys. A growl of frustration rolls up my chest when I fail to find them. My excavation is hampered by the massive amount of makeup and girly shit she carries in her oversized purse.
The heaviness weighing down my chest the past two hours lightens when a giggle spills from Clara’s lips before she snatches her purse out of my hand and delves her hand inside. I roll my eyes when she produces a set of keys in under two point five seconds.
Once I locate the car key I gave her four weeks ago, I jab it into the passenger side door and unlock her car. Clara’s gleaming eyes lift to mine when I gently lower her into the passenger seat before securing her seat belt. After closing the door, I race around her car and glide into the driver’s seat. Her second giggle of the night topples from her lips when my knees become trapped behind the steering wheel.
“What the hell? How can you drive sitting so close to the steering wheel?” I grumble, yanking on the seat mechanism.
Clara giggles again.
She must still be in shock. I’ve never heard her laugh so much.
After pushing the seat back as far as possible, I prod the key into the ignition and fire up the engine. The only noise heard in the cabin of Clara’s car for the first two miles is the small pants of her breath.
Another mile out, I shift my eyes from the road to Clara. Although she doesn’t appear as rattled as earlier, her pupils are still filling her cornea, and her face is stained with tears. When another mile clicks over, the expression on her face surges from confused to concerned.
“Where are we going?” she queries as I pull her car into the underground parking lot of my apartment building.
I park her car in my assigned parking bay and switch off the ignition. “My place,” I reply before yanking open the driver’s side door and stepping onto the concrete.
Any words she might speak are drowned out by the loud echo of the driver’s side door slamming shut. Not giving her a chance to protest, I run around the car, swing open her door, and pull her into my arms. I’m shocked as hell when I walk through the deserted parking garage, and she clings to my chest. I expected some type of response—at the very least, a gripe about how she can walk and doesn’t need to be carried—but she doesn’t say a thing until I place her on her feet at my apartment door.
“Why am I here?” she asks as her eyes aimlessly float around the empty corridor.
Her eyes rocket to mine when I answer, “Because you’re in shock.”
Her confused gaze stops bouncing between mine when my apartment door gives out a slight creak when I swing it open. I lean in and flick on the lights, illuminating my modest but well-decorated loft apartment.
Clara takes two steps inside before stopping dead in her tracks. She stands frozen in the entryway I finished refitting six months ago. After my grandmother moved into Caramine Care, I downgraded from a two-bedroom apartment to the loft on the top floor. Although I lost the bonus of a guest bedroom, I have the same floor space and the new addition of a rooftop patio.
I track Clara’s eyes as she absorbs my apartment in great detail. A double-size living room with two suede sofas sits to her right, a manly black kitchen adeptly stocked with all the latest appliances is on her left, and a four-seater dining table is directly in front of her. Her eyes circle when she takes in the black wrought iron and wooden spiral staircase that leads to my bedroom floating above the living space. The thrum of the pulse in her neck quickens when her eyes run along the wood-lined pitched roof.
Once she has surveyed every inch of my apartment, she locks her eyes with mine. “Why am I here?”
“Because you’re in shock,” I repeat. I curl my arm around her shoulders and guide her deeper into the space. “You’re shaking and shit. I can’t leave you alone like this.”
To be honest, I don’t know if the new shakes hammering her body are from the mugging or because she’s just realized I only have one bedroom. Either way, I’m not leaving her alone in this condition.
When her shakes increase, I say, “Unless you can give me the address of a friend or family member I can take you to, you’re staying here.” I move to stand in front of her. “Can you give me an address?”
Fresh tears spring in her eyes before she shakes her head.
“Then you’re staying here.”
Her eyes continue to absorb my apartment as she shadows me up the staircase. While her eyes drink in the king-size bed in the middle of the room, I walk to a set of drawers on my left.
After yanking out a dark blue T-shirt, I pivot to face Clara. “Do you want to shower before you go to bed?” She licks her dry lips before shaking her head. “All right, then put this on and jump into bed.” I hand her my shirt then nudge my head to my bed.
Her pupils enlarge to the size of dinner plates as shock makes itself known on her face. “Can you turn around? ”
I arch my brow. “You were just about to suck my cock, but now you’re acting all shy.”
Quicker than the flash of a camera bulb, Clara grasps the hem of her dress and whips it over her head.
Holy fuck!
I knew her body would be dynamite, but mother-fucking-lord it’s even better than I expected. Perky round breasts only just concealed by a hot pink fancy lace bra I’ve only seen on the runway, a smooth, flat stomach, and lusciously long legs spread far enough apart, her sheer panties award me the slightest peek of a pussy I have no doubt tastes sweeter than honey.
Staring me straight in the eyes, Clara drops my shirt beside her feet before sauntering to my bed. The hardness of my cock turns deadly when she slips between the sheets wearing nothing but a lace bra and a tiny pair of panties.
The rise and fall of her chest increases when I grab the collar of my shirt to drag it over my head before lowering the zipper of my jeans. Her soft pants quicken when my jeans are kicked aside two seconds later.
Just like I couldn’t take my eyes off her during her provocative striptease, her eyes drink in every inch of me as I stand before her in nothing but a pair of white briefs.
“Calvin Klein?” she queries with her brow bowed high.
I shrug. “What? They’re comfy,” I reply before slipping into the opposite side of the bed.
I freeze, and a curse word seeps from my lips when a warm hand grips my crotch, instantly turning my cock to stone. It takes a few moments for my brain to register what’s going on, but when it does, it takes all my strength—and then some—to stop Clara from stroking me through my briefs.
“Nope. Not happening.” My words are rough, relaying the moral struggle I’m trudging through .
“Why?” Clara snaps back. “If this isn’t what you brought me here for, why the hell am I here?”
“Because… you’re in shock !” I hiss through clenched teeth. “And when I take you… and don’t have any doubt, Princess, that is a when, not an if… it won’t be while you’re in shock. I made a mistake once letting you kiss me when you were rattled. It ain’t happening again.” Leaning over, I switch off the lights. “Now roll onto your hip, so I can spoon you.”
Clara gasps in a sharp breath, astonished by my demand. She isn’t the only one surprised. I don’t spoon. I’ve never fucking spooned. But I’ll spoon her if it guarantees the parts of her body I want to explore the most are facing away from me.
While grumbling under her breath, Clara rolls on her opposite hip. I splay my hand across the smooth planes of her stomach and draw her back.
What? If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right.
My lips quirk. This spooning shit isn’t too bad. My cock is nestled between the crack of her ass and halfway up her back, my torso is being warmed by the heat of her body, and the scent of her recently shampooed hair is penetrating my nostrils. It isn’t half bad. I could get used to this .
A few minutes pass in silence as I run my hand up and down Clara’s forearm. If her breathing pattern had leveled out, I might have believed she was asleep, but I know she’s awake, even with not seeing her face.
After another stint of quiet, Clara does a one-eighty. The moonlight sneaking into the room from the roof window illuminates half of her face. Even though I can only see half of her beautiful features I’ve studied in great depth the past six months, I can see enough to tell she’s struggling to emerge from the dark pit her attack pushed her into .
The warmth of her breath flutters my lips when she quietly murmurs, “Why am I here, Brax?”
I run the back of my hand down her face, removing a tear that sneakily escaped her eye. “This may be a little hard for you to believe, but you’re here because I actually like you, Princess. I want to take care of you.” When she gasps, feigning shock, I chuckle. “Is my revelation really that shocking?”
She sighs. “Depends. If you really knew me?—”
“I know you,” I interrupt.
“The real me, Brax. The before-Inked Clara,” she interjects, her voice shaky and low. “If you knew that Clara, your opinion of me might change.”
“Un-fucking-likely,” I reply without the slightest hint of hesitation.
Another stretch of silence passes between us. It isn’t awkward but necessary. Clara needs time to compose herself, and I need time to get over the shock I brought a woman to my apartment, and I’m not freaked out about it.
An uneasiness settles in the bottom of my gut when Clara asks, “What are the chances of my necklace being found?”
“I don’t know,” I reply honestly. “Depends on the value. If it’s worth a lot, the chances are low.” A heaviness slams into my chest when a stream of tears rolls down her cheeks. “Was it worth a lot?”
Clara shakes her head. “No.” She draws herself into my torso. “It’s not even valuable, but it’s all I have left.” Her lips quiver against my bare chest as she cries and cries until her eyes have no tears left, then she falls asleep in my arms.