No In Between (17 page)

Eighteen

Michael presses against me, his hands shackling my waist, and the feel of his hands on my body makes my skin crawl. “Let go of me,” I hiss, shoving at his unmovable chest. I hear the sound of sirens nearing in the background, but they aren’t here to rescue me. I need to rescue me.

He dares to slide his hand down my waist to my hips, and anger explodes from some deep, pent-up place I had forgotten existed. “I said, let go,” I growl, swiftly lifting my knee and fully intending to plant it in his groin. He captures my leg, the touch wrong in every way.

“You have two seconds before I start screaming,” I warn.

“You don’t want that attention right now.”

“Try me,” I challenge. “Go ahead.”

His eyes narrow and he seems to sense just how dangerous the ground he walks upon is, and he moves his body from mine. But his hands flatten on the wall beside me, his arms caging me in. But I don’t want to escape. I want to finally face him, and the past that’s haunted me for far too long.

“Why are you here?” I demand. He looks so civilized in his perfectly fitted black suit and deep blue shirt, no doubt chosen to match his eyes, yet he’s such a barbaric asshole.

“I didn’t come to San Francisco to testify against you,” he claims, lying as easily as he has a million times before. “I came here to protect you, since your ‘boyfriend’ can’t seem to get the job done. I’ll be right here in town until the trial is over, no matter how long I have to stay. You can count on it.”

I laugh and I sound a little insane, but it’s controlled insanity. My kind, and I’ll unleash it my way, in my time. “That’s truly priceless, Michael,” I say. “You’ve managed to turn this into a way to get back into my father’s good graces.”

“I didn’t ask to be called into this, but I’m here now, and it’s clear I’m needed.”

He’s so damn believable in the role of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Perfect, that it makes me sick to my stomach, thinking of all the people he takes advantage of. And I was one of them.

“You know what?” I demand. “Fuck you, Michael. Fuck you. Fuck you. And
fuck you
.” Shock slides over his face, and I revel in it. “If you think hanging around with the threat of butchering me in court is going to scare me into helping you get your job back with my father, you’re wrong. I’m already going to be sliced and diced by the press, so it doesn’t matter what you do.”

There’s a movement to my right, followed by Jacob’s harsh command. “Step. Back.”

Michael’s eyes glint with irritation but he’s smart enough to listen, pushing off the wall. A moment later I have Jacob on one side of me and Kelvin on the other, but Michael’s cold, calculating blue eyes don’t move from me.

“I’ll be at the Fairmont,” he says with barely contained anger. He pauses, for effect no doubt, and adds, “Indefinitely.”

“Go home, Michael,” I bite out. “There’s nothing for you here.”

His lips twist evilly. “I guess we’ll see about that,” he replies, a snide arrogance in his tone that makes me want to slap him, but he’s already turned away. He’s leaving, but he’s not gone. I have failed to get rid of him.

“Are you okay?” Jacob asks. If he’s been in a fight, his perfectly pressed suit and flawless face show no sign of it.

“Did he hurt you?” Kelvin asks, stepping closer, and I realize I’ve never seen him in a suit before. He heads the local Walker Security team, which makes him Jacob’s boss.

“I’m fine,” I assure him, and it’s remarkably true. “And I have Jacob to thank for that. He refused to leave my side even when I was with the detective.”

“Good thing he didn’t,” Kelvin comments. “Michael was supposed to be on a plane out of the city.”

“Apparently his travel plans and departure from his hotel were meant as a distraction,” Jacob says.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” I say, shivering against a gust of cold wind. “Is Chris—”

“On his way to kick my ass for letting this happen,” Jacob assures me, his frustration evident.

“It’s not your fault this happened, Jacob,” I assure him, “and I’ll be the first one to tell Chris that.”

“When I’m protecting you, anything that goes wrong is my fault,” he corrects. “I should have let the detective get his ass kicked.”

The coffee shop doors open beside us, and Corey and Raf are marched out in handcuffs. Kelvin rests a hand on the wall and lifts his chin at Jacob. “What the hell happened in there?”

“The kid, Corey, seems to have the hots for Ava, and apparently called Sara a lying bitch.”

I blanch. “Me? He doesn’t even know me.”

“Out of the mouths of babes,” Kelvin says. “Sounds like he was speaking Ava’s kind of language. How’d that turn into a fight?”

“Raf, who in case it wasn’t explained is technically still Ava’s husband. Sara wasn’t the lying bitch,” Jacob says. “He claimed Ava’s the lying bitch. Then it was all fists.”

I think back to the Chanel store, when Ava took a call from her Raf. “I thought he wanted Ava back?”

“That is
not
a man who wants his wife back,” Jacob assures me, cutting a look toward the police car as the back doors are closed. “I need to go talk to the detective before he leaves.”

“Go,” Kelvin orders. “I have Sara.”

Jacob takes off in a jog and Kelvin is already herding me toward the gallery, eager to escape reporters. As we walk, a sudden wave of emotion overcomes me. Fortunately, I have the short hike to beat it back down. I
won’t
let Michael have the power of destruction over me—not even in the form of a few worthless tears.

Once we’re inside the gallery, Ralph darts out of his office. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say, though the dull throb starting behind my eyes and in my head argues differently. “I handled the detective. But you,” I add, “need to stop letting the police intimidate you. What time is it?”

He glances at his watch. “Ten to two; time for food. How about pizza?”

“Sure,” I say, though I’m certain I won’t be able to eat since Ava’s hearing is about to start. “You know what I like. Can you order?”

“You got it. Extra cheese coming your way.”

I shut myself in my office. Leaning against the door, I squeeze my eyes shut, only to have someone start shoving their way inside.

“Sara.”

Relief washes over me at the sound of Chris’s voice. I move away from the door, giving him space to enter. He steps inside the office, shutting us in, and the deliciously wonderful power of him consumes the room, and me, with it.

“I heard about Michael,” he says, dragging me against him, and he is warm and hard and wonderful in all the unexplainable, perfect ways that are Chris. “I hate that I let him get close to you.” He leans against the door and frames my face. “I swore I’d never let him hurt you again. I thought he was on a plane. Blake’s team confirmed his travel, and watched him get into his car.”

My hands go to his. I will never get tired of having Chris hold me like this, or look at me like I’m the beginning and end of his world, as he is right now. “Jacob told me they thought he was leaving, but I’m fine. This isn’t his fault, Chris. He got sideswiped. And this isn’t your fault, either. You’re the man I love, not my personal bodyguard.”

“The hell I’m not, and Michael will find out that his bullshit doesn’t change anything. You don’t have to worry.”

But
he’s
worried, and well beyond the normal, bossy, protective man I adore. I see it in his eyes, and I fear my confession last night is why. “I wasn’t afraid, and I’m not about to have a panic attack, if that’s what you’re thinking,” I say. “I told you. They never happen at a logical time.”

He turns us, claiming the dominant position by pressing my back to the wall, framing my hips with his, his hands going to the wall by my head. “Don’t do that, Sara. Don’t assume I think you’re weak. I don’t. You were afraid for Ella’s safety last night. If that’s not a logical reason to have a panic attack, I don’t know what is.”

“And don’t
you
make excuses for me. That’s denial—the very thing you swear destroys anyone it touches.” I try to duck under his arms.

He shackles my leg with his. “No one’s making excuses. That’s not how I operate and you know it.”

“You must wonder when, and where, I’ll have an attack again.”

He shakes his head. “You’re creating a problem that doesn’t exist, but know this. If you have another attack, I’ll be there to catch you.”

“This is
exactly
what I didn’t want. I don’t want you walking around trying to catch me.”

“That’s what we do, baby. We catch each other. I’ve accepted that with my meltdowns; now you have to accept it with this. I’m not entertaining any other version of who we are together.” He runs a gentle finger down my cheek. “Understand?”

While his tone is hard, his eyes are not. He means what he’s said. He really doesn’t seem to be letting this new knowledge cloud how he sees me, or us. “This is where you agree with me,” he encourages.

“I do. It’s what I want, too.”

“Good. Now tell me what happened with Michael.”

“He says he’s staying until the trial. And the real kicker? He says he’s doing this to protect me and my father.”

“A way to intimidate you with the threat that he’ll smear you in court.”

“And a desperate play to get back in my father’s good graces, which is exactly what I told him—right before I screamed ‘fuck you’ at him a few times.”

He gives me a deadpan look. “You screamed ‘fuck you’ at Michael?”

“Several times, quite fiercely. And considering it was in a very public place, not one of my most shining moments.”

“Well,” he says thoughtfully, “you did need to make sure you got your point across.” His lips quirk in that sexy, kissable way, and the tight ball of tension in my head dissolves into laughter.

“Yes,” I agree. “I guess I did.”

His hand settles possessively on my hip. “You kicked some ass today on all fronts. David was laughing his ass off at the way you called him and put the detective on the spot.”

“Did you hear that Grant used me to start a fight next door?”

“Yeah, I heard. Interesting development. I wonder what they know about those two that we don’t.”

“He gave nothing away to me. He made me think he wanted to know more about Mark and Ricco.”

Chris brushes some hair from my eyes, his mood doing one of those dark shifts, his fingers lingering on my cheek before falling away. “Your panic attack last night means nothing, Sara. Fighting back today, does. It proves you’re putting the past behind you. You know that, right?”

“Yes,” I say, realizing as I speak that he’s right. “The panic attack scared me because it made me feel out of control, but that’s not how I felt with Michael today. Not at all. I’m not the same person I was when I was with him, or even a month ago. Or even before that last night in Paris. Because of you. Because of
us
.”

“Us,” he repeats.

“Yes.” I confirm that bond we share. “Us.”

His fingers flex into my backside where they’ve settled, and his gaze lingers on my mouth. When it lifts, his stare is as hot as I suddenly feel. “I want to fuck you right here and now,” he shocks me by announcing.

“Oh no,” I say quickly. “Not here. We can’t.”

“We can,” he assures me, and his fingers begin to inch my skirt up.

My hand goes to his, stilling his actions. “No,” I insist. “Not here, Chris. And the hearing has already started; we have to be ready to deal with the results.”

“It’ll take a while to end,” he says, his fingers tunneling into my hair as he drags my mouth a tantalizing breath from his. “Didn’t we just decide it’s better to focus on what we can control? And I choose to control all the things I can do to you while we wait for David’s call.”

“Chris—” His lips brush mine, a featherlight touch that sends a rush of sensations along every nerve ending in my body. “You’re so unfair.”

“How’s this for fair?” He turns me and walks me backward until I hit the desk. “I’m going to fuck you right here, right now.” His hands go to my waist and he lifts me, setting me on the desk and caressing my skirt up my thighs. “Any objections?” He opens my knees and fits his hips between my legs, nestling the thick ridge of his erection in just the right spot.

“Since you put it that way,” I say, sounding as breathless as I feel, “no objections.”

His dangerously perfect mouth quirks and he leans in, nuzzling my neck, my arms wrapping around his neck. His tongue flicks wickedly over a delicate spot behind my ear that he somehow makes me feel in the deepest part of my sex. My thighs clench his hips and his hand cups my breast, strokes my nipple, and my lashes flutter, lowering. And then somehow, I’m staring over his shoulder at the painting of the roses resting on the ground.

Unbidden, random entries from Rebecca’s journal flicker into my mind. I can almost hear her voice in my head, feel her need for Mark in my need for Chris. Because of this room, which was her office. It’s their place, their past. It’s Mark’s loss and pain and Rebecca’s murder. It’s them, not us. A desperate need to escape rushes over me, and I shove my hands against Chris’s chest. “Wait,” I say, straightening. “Wait, Chris. Wait.”