Chapter 4
Alec
My dreams did not, in fact, play nice with me.
When I wake up in the morning and look around, it takes me a second to remember that I’m sitting in Claire’s chair in the hallway of her townhouse.
Once I place where I am, I cast a glance toward her. She’s still sleeping in her bed, safe and sound, just like I left her. But echoes of my dreams haunt me as I watch her.
Images of everything I wanted to do to her—and would never allow myself to enjoy—spun through my unconscious mind all night.
With a sigh, I stand up, stiff and achy as hell from falling asleep in the damn chair instead of a proper bed. Nothing a few good stretches won’t work out.
I pull my arm over my head and then the other, waking up my muscles. It’s early as hell, and I need coffee if I’m going to get anything done today.
I head to Claire’s kitchen and go through the cupboards until I find a bag of coffee grounds. I pour them into her rickety old coffee maker, wondering if the thing is going to have me chewing my beverage this morning.
“Making yourself at home?”
With a mug in my hands, I jerk as I pull it down from the shelf, nearly dropping it. When I spin around, Claire is behind me, still wearing that oversized tee and nonexistent shorts.
It seems exceedingly unfair that someone who just woke up looks as delectable as Claire does right now.
Her long waves have been pulled up into a messy bun on top of her head, and the oversized T-shirt dangles off her shoulder so I can see her warm beige skin peeking through.
It’s not as cold in here as it was last night, but I can still see the shadow of her nipples through the fabric.
Focus, Alec.
I turn back toward the counter and set my mug down, using it as an excuse to tuck my erection into my waistband before facing Claire again.
“Trust me. You don’t want me going any longer without caffeine.”
“Well, I hope you made enough for both of us.” She makes a face—this combination of annoyance and harmless teasing. “Because I’m not sacrificing the last of my coffee to you.”
I turn back toward the bag of grounds and give it a shake. She’s right. There isn’t much left.
Reaching up for another mug, I take down a smaller one—just as Claire steps forward to grab it herself.
Our hands collide.
Her fingers are warm and soft against mine, and the touch shoots straight through me like a live wire. Claire freezes, her breath catching, and for one long second, neither of us moves.
She’s so close I can smell her. Something soft and sweet, like vanilla and sleep-warmed skin. Her lips part, and my eyes drop to them without permission.
Kiss her. Just fucking kiss her.
The thought slams into me so hard my jaw clenches. I force myself to release the mug and step back before I do something stupid.
“Go ahead,” I manage, my voice rougher than I intend.
Claire blinks, then snatches the mug like it might bite her. A flush creeps up her neck as she turns away.
“Thanks.”
When coffee is set—me taking it black while she uses a hefty dose of creamer—we walk into her living room. I sit across from her in the chair while Claire takes her spot on the couch.
“I need to know more details about what happened with the senator.”
Claire nearly chokes on her coffee. “Excuse me?”
I watch her put the cup down on the table before I continue.
“I need to know the details. Teddy needs to pay for what he did, but I can’t figure out the best course of action without all the information.”
Claire looks uncomfortable, and I can imagine why. But these are questions the authorities are going to ask, and I want to have the answers.
“I told you last night he tried to do something he shouldn’t. Why do I need to go into the gruesome details?”
“Because people are going to ask, and we need to have a response. The senator is clearly more than meets the eye. The person watching you last night proves that, let alone the fact that he sent me to scare you.”
“He hired me to do a dance. He met me at the club where I work. I needed the money. And when things got too intense, I ran.”
The air is stiff and tense between us. I clench my jaw, trying my damndest not to yell at Claire because she’s frustrating as hell.
Stubborn is apparently something we both have in common.
“No.” She stands up, meeting my glare with one of her own. “I just met you, and I’m not opening up about my trauma to some guy who, less than twenty-four hours ago, was looking to intimidate me for cash.”
I stand too, crossing the short distance between us. Even at her taller height for a woman, I tower over her, gazing down at her in her pajamas with not a stitch of makeup.
She doesn’t back down at all.
“You need my help. So unless you’re actually enjoying living like this—” I gesture around the apartment and then toward her body, insinuating her day job. “—you’ll stop being a brat and let me help you.”
Claire’s eyes flare wide. The raw fury on her face is impressive considering how sweet she looks in every other situation.
“You jerk! You know nothing about me!” She jabs a finger into my chest. “I’ve lived in this city my entire life, and this is the best I’ve had it, you spoiled meathead. Not all of us have everything so easy.”
She slams her foot down and turns away, stalking to the window.
“My father abandoned me when I was a baby, and my mother turned to booze and work so she didn’t have to look at me.
I’m doing all this because I’m trying to finish college.
I have nothing but my art and myself to rely on, so sue me if I don’t think jeopardizing all of it to catch a damn senator is a good idea. ”
Her words are a kick to the balls. Knowing that Claire’s situation is even worse than I thought has my chest pinching in a way it never has before.
She’s struggling. And that asshole was looking to take advantage of her desperation.
“Claire.” I walk up behind her, keeping my voice low. “I want him caught. I want his career to end for what he did to you. Talk to me so I can make that happen.”
Her shoulders droop.
For a long moment, she doesn’t speak. Her fingers find the hem of her shirt, and she picks at a loose thread, twisting it around and around.
“My stockings,” she finally whispers.
“What?”
“I’d left them when I started to leave.” Her voice is so quiet I have to strain to hear it. “It’s hard to find the right ones, so… I didn’t want to leave them behind.”
She pauses. Swallows. Her shoulders curl inward like she’s trying to make herself smaller.
“I hurried back to grab them when somebody grabbed me by the hair and shoved me against the wall.”
Her hand drifts up to the back of her head, touching the spot like she can still feel it.
“My head hit it, and I slumped. Apparently, the senator is pretty spry for an older guy.”
I don’t speak. I barely breathe. If I make a sound, I’m afraid I’ll spook her—or I’ll lose what little control I have left.
Claire’s fingers are still working at that thread, pulling it tighter and tighter around her fingertip until the skin turns white.
“Every time I was around him, he’d always make comments about my lips. My mouth.” She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. Just something hollow and broken. “I guess I should’ve guessed that’s what he’d want first.”
My stomach drops through the floor.
No. No, no, no.
“I’d never…” Her voice cracks. She clears her throat and tries again, but her words come out fractured. Halting. “I’d never done it before. And for too goddamn long, I was just… shocked. Frozen. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think.”
She still won’t look at me. Her gaze is fixed on something outside the window, but I don’t think she’s really seeing anything at all.
“Eventually, I bit down.”
The words hang in the air.
“He flew backward. My mouth tasted like blood.” A shudder runs through her whole body. “And I kicked him in the leg so I could make a break for it.”
The room falls silent. I can hear Claire sniffle, and I know she’s crying. Silent tears streaming down her face while she stands there, still picking at that damn thread like it’s the only thing holding her together.
Something inside me cracks wide open.
I think of my team. The ones I couldn’t save. The ambush I didn’t see coming.
I couldn’t save them. But I can save her.
The thought settles into my bones like concrete.
Tentatively, I rest my hand on her shoulder. She flinches at first, then slowly relaxes under my touch.
“You did the right thing,” I say, my voice rough. “That was damn brave of you.”
Claire spins around, her tear-stained face screwed up into a frown. “Brave? I let him assault me. It shouldn’t have even gotten that far.”
“You bit the guy’s dick.”
Neither of us can help the short chuckle that escapes. It breaks some of the tension, but not the fire burning in my chest.
“That’s damn impressive.” I hold her gaze, letting her see every ounce of what I’m feeling. “And he’s going to pay, Claire. I promise you.”
She searches my expression, and I let her look. I’m an open damn book.
“I’ve taken care of a lot of riffraff in my life. This one’s just a little bigger and slimier.”
There’s a beat, and then Claire nods. I’ve passed the test for now.
But I’m not done.
I step closer, close enough that I can see the dried tear tracks on her cheeks. I cup her face in my hands, tilting it up so she has no choice but to look at me.
“No one touches you again.” My voice comes out low. Dangerous. A growl more than words. “Not while I’m breathing. Do you understand me?”
Claire’s eyes go wide. Her lips part, but no sound comes out.
I watch her process it—the intensity, the possession, the promise wrapped in threat. She’s not used to this. Not used to someone protecting this hard.
For a second, I think I’ve scared her.
Then something shifts in her expression. Her breath catches, and instead of pulling away, she leans in. Just barely. Just enough.
Like she’s drawn to the heat even though she knows it might burn her.
“Alec…” she whispers, and the way she says my name does dangerous things to my self-control.
I force myself to drop my hands and step back before I do something we’re both not ready for.
“We’ll bring all this up to the cops,” I say, my voice still rough. “And they’ll—”
“I already took this to the cops.” Claire’s expression shutters. “They didn’t do anything. The detectives said there wasn’t enough evidence. It was my word versus his, and no one was going to believe some stripper.”
My vision goes red.
I clench my hands into fists so hard it feels like my skin will crack. My pulse is racing, and I can’t stop myself from grabbing her shoulder.
“They said that to you?”
Claire just nods.
My grip tightens, and I have to force myself to let go. I’m pacing through her townhouse before I can stop myself, a stream of curses aimed at the senator and our shit system that doesn’t do anything to keep victims safe.
I’m ready to put my fist through a wall when Claire steps in front of me, blocking my path.
“So, you got your details.” Her voice is steadier now. Stronger. “What now?”
“Oh.” I sneer into the middle distance, my mind spinning with possibilities—none of them legal, all of them satisfying. “I’ve got some fucking ideas alright. And they’re not pretty.”