Chapter Two #2
His face tightened to a glower. “Then you walked here in the rain?”
“Yes.” She barely managed to get the word out.
“Carrying her?”
The edge of censure in his tone frustrated her. “Yes. I didn’t have any other options.”
At her confession, he sat back in his chair, his stare pinning her in place. “And now you’re going to tell me why you’re here and how you came to be in this state.”
It was a command, pure and simple. Once upon a time, that wouldn’t have bothered Sasha. She’d grown up compliant, always following the rules and never rocking boats. But now that her whole life had been upended, Nick’s tone made her bristle.
Somehow, she swallowed down her anger, took a deep breath, and tried to remember the words she’d rehearsed. “You probably don’t recall, but when you visited Mike at our house, Harper was a newborn.”
“I remember.”
He did? “About a year later, Mike’s behavior changed suddenly.
He turned anxious, secretive. For months, I didn’t know he’d fallen into dicey political waters at work.
He never gave me details, but I gathered his difficulty had something to do with his boss, Walter Clifford, the Orleans Parish district attorney.
Then I overheard Mike talking to you on the phone a few weeks before…
” She didn’t want to finish that sentence and relive her husband’s death again. “He told you that Clifford was dirty.”
“As sin. He’s responsible for Mike’s murder.”
“I gathered. Apparently, the man suspects Mike left behind some evidence that proves his corruption. In the last fifteen months, I’ve tried to figure out where he might have hidden it, to no avail. But I knew my husband. If he’d been about to blow a whistle, he had solid proof.”
“Meanwhile, Clifford has had thugs and hit men chasing you, right? He’s told you to hand your evidence over or he’s going to turn you into fish bait.”
“Harper first.” Her voice broke. “If I don’t produce the proof three days after her murder, then me.”
Something terrible flickered across Nick’s face quickly, then it was gone. Sasha couldn’t decipher the expression, but resisted the urge to back away from him—barely.
“Why do you assume I’m any better than Clifford?”
Sasha’s heart stopped. Why had she? “I—I just thought…”
“That since Mike was my childhood friend, I’d want vengeance for him?
That I’d help you out of the goodness of my heart?
” He shrugged. “C’mon, I knew Porter well.
So I know he told you to steer clear of me unless it was a dire emergency.
But you assumed that since I’m a convicted rapist, I didn’t have many boundaries to cross, and murder wouldn’t bother me.
How do you know I have a conscience at all?
How do you know I can’t be bought by the other side? ”
Sasha froze. She been so desperate, so sure Mike would have steered her in the right direction, that she’d rationalized the very real risks of coming here. Obviously, she’d been na?ve. Foolish.
She had to leave now.
Darting to her feet, Sasha charged out of the kitchen and dashed down the hall.
Harper. She had to reach her little girl, pluck her out of bed, and escape—somehow—before Nick Navarro stopped her.
Would he turn her over to the people wanting to kill her baby?
Or did he have some nefarious plan of his own?
In seconds, she heard pounding footsteps hunting her from behind. Oh, god. Oh, god! He was going to catch her before she and Harper could escape.
Suddenly, he clamped hard fingers around her wrist and yanked. She spun to face him, nearly tripping and falling. Nick caught her with his body, bracing her against the hot, solid width of his chest.
Before he could tighten his grip on her, she started clawing and kicking, aiming for his genitals. He dodged her, clamping his thighs around hers and capturing both her wrists in his huge hands.
Then he nudged her off balance. While she went from fighting him to fighting for firm footing, Nick took her to the carpet in the narrow hallway and lowered himself on top of her, pinning her trembling form under him.
Sasha fought him with every bit of her strength, but she was nearly a foot shorter and a hundred pounds lighter. He had gravity on his side.
Panic clawed her. She couldn’t breathe.
No!
She’d failed Harper. Her baby didn’t deserve to die because her father hadn’t been sneaky enough to sidestep criminals and her mother hadn’t been worldly enough to escape them.
Sasha kept fighting long after Nick had her contained. She tried not to sob. She still didn’t understand all the rules of survival, but she knew crying wouldn’t do any good.
Finally, Nick clamped down on her with strong arms and long legs, holding her immobile. “Stop!”
Panting, her breath quivering, Sasha looked up into his endless inky eyes. She expected to see laughter, triumph, anticipation.
She saw regret.
So he wasn’t looking forward to killing her and Harper. She doubted that would stop him.
Sasha wasn’t above begging, not if it would save Harper. “Please, she’s just a baby…”
“Shh. You and your daughter are safe with me. I won’t let Clifford’s hit men near you.”
No words could have shocked her more. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“You don’t, not any more than I know if you’re telling me the truth about whatever evidence Mike may have found. But you want protection from Clifford’s hit squad. I want revenge against the asshole. Looks like we have to trust each other.”
Could she? What other option did she really have? In this case, the devil she didn’t know had to be better than the one she did. At least she hoped.
Sasha gave him a shaky nod. “I need help. I can’t run anymore. They’re getting closer. Harper is sick…”
“And you’re exhausted.”
“I don’t have any money to offer you…”
He hesitated. “That’s not what I want.”
Then what was he after?
Even as Sasha’s mind raced, she became aware of the inferno of heat Nick put off. It sank through her damp clothes, under her skin. For the first time in weeks, she felt warm.
“Um…I could clean your house.”
“That service comes with the rental.”
“I’ll do your laundry.”
Nick shook his head. “I know how to use the washer and dryer just fine.”
“I-I can cook…”
For a quick second, he looked as if that intrigued him, then he scowled. “Takeout works for me.”
Now what? Besides housework, her only other talent lay in scrapbooking, and she seriously doubted he’d want a personalized album commemorating the time he’d spent in prison. But she had to give him something. Relying purely on his good favor would be too dangerous.
“Then what do you want in return for your help?”
Above her, he shifted, grimaced. Confusion buzzed through her brain…until she felt his erection, lengthening and hardening between her legs.
Sasha sucked in a breath. Even through her jeans and his, she could tell he was large.
She hadn’t had sex—or any contact with a man—since the night before Mike’s murder, and her neglected body didn’t fail to notice that Nick was thoroughly male.
The mixture of fear and desire confused her, even as his scent hung musky in her nose, dizzying her head.
His stare melted with heat, pouring over her like liquid seduction.
The truth—the price he intended to extract from her—was in his eyes.
“Me?” Sasha breathed.
He stilled for a moment, studying her. Then, as if he couldn’t resist anymore, he notched against her, his erection now like steel. He nudged her right where it counted, against that bundle of nerves that sent a streak of heat racing up her belly and down her legs.
Sasha closed her eyes. She had to be insane. He was a convicted rapist. Mike had told her that while Nick was one of his best friends, he didn’t trust the guy with women.
Her body was just responding to stress, to her long abstinence.
How many times had she fantasized about finding some way—any way—to forget the mess of her life for a few stolen minutes?
Too many to count. But the heat simmering in her veins now couldn’t have anything to do with Nick Navarro himself.
“You’re kidding.” She shook her head. He must be.
“Do I feel like I’m kidding?”
Sasha swallowed against the uptick of her heartbeat. “Why?”
“I’ve been in prison for over a year. You have to ask?”
He thrust his hips against her again. Like before, he hit the perfect spot, the one that still hadn’t recovered from his last nudge. Fresh heat zipped through her, more intense than before. An ache began to pulse between her legs.
What was wrong with her?
“I meant why me?” Sasha heard the quiver in her voice. “I’m sure you know women who are younger, who don’t have stretch marks and a C-section scar. Who—”
“I know a dozen Barbie dolls I could call now if I just wanted to fuck. You’re real.” He unclamped one of his hands from her wrist…then glided onto her breast. “This is real.”
He sank his fingers into her giving flesh, dragging his thumb over her nipple.
Sasha sucked in a breath. Despite her damp shirt and bra, she felt his touch all the way to her toes.
Tingles skittered through her system. Her nipples puckered, beaded.
Under his broad palm, he teased one of the buds with another slow caress.
His rough breath rent the silence between them. She shut her eyes—and bit back a moan.
She had to be totally out of her mind. Why wasn’t she fighting, screaming her lack of consent?
Her brain told her she’d lose any chance of persuading him to protect her and Harper.
Loneliness reminded her how badly she’d missed human comfort.
Her touch-starved body shouted the fact that there was something about Nick Navarro that lit up the long-suppressed woman inside her that had fantasized about silken satisfaction with a very capable man.