Rush of Innocence (Rush Series #1) (3 page)

She
glanced down at her hands, and seeing the cuts, she ran them under the
water.
 
She grimaced at the sting. Why
hadn’t her father told her about the threats? Ever since her mother’s death
when she was ten, he’d been so overprotective, but she’d taken it. She
understood his need to protect her and keep her close, but this was too much.
She was no longer a child, she was an adult. Tears filled her eyes in direct
contradiction to her words. Stuffing her emotions back down deep within, she
grabbed a napkin from the dispenser and scrubbed the makeup from her pale face.

***

Sun
was streaming through the windows when she woke the next morning. However, that
wasn’t what woke her – it was the harsh whispers being exchanged between her
father and Alex Masters.

“… I
had no choice. She needed to be told. She’s an adult, Arthur, no matter how
much you wish she was still your little girl,” Alex said.

“That
wasn’t your decision to make,” her father declared.

“The
better she understands the seriousness of the situation, the better it will be
for all of us.”

“If
you’d been doing your job, this wouldn’t have happened,” her father admonished.

Silence
met her father’s words and she cringed at his cruelty.

Unable
to restrain herself, she said softly, “I think a simple thank-you will do,
Father. After all, the man did save your life, not once, but twice.” Both heads
turned in her direction. “Alex, do me a favor and give me a minute alone with
my father, will you?”

At
her father’s nod, Alex stepped through the door. Trinity had no doubt he was
standing right on the other side, vigilant. Rising and stretching her weary
muscles, she rose and sat on the edge of her father’s hospital bed. The bandage
now covering both his head and arm did nothing to distract her from her
memories of the night before.

“How
are you feeling, Dad?”

“I’m
fine. I don’t know why I can’t go home.”

“I’m
sure you’ll be home soon enough. Alex is right, though, you should have told me
you were in danger,” she scolded.

“I
didn’t want you to worry.”

“Too late.
I
always worry,” she said flippantly, trying to lighten the mood.

“Protecting
you is
my
job. I don’t want to give
it up,” her father said.

“I
know. But I’d rather know the truth. When I think about…” she paused as tears
clouded her eyes.

Her
father raised her hands to his lips and grimaced when he saw the scrapes on her
hands.
“Trinity
Allura
Grace!
What have you done?”

“It’s
nothing.”

“Oh,
baby. I’m sorry! It had to have been so horrifying for you. I never wanted you
to have to go through something like that again,” he exclaimed.

Leaning
forward, she placed a kiss to his head. “Well, it all worked out,” she
murmured, “but you need to apologize to Alex. He was wonderful last night. We’d
never have made it without him.”

“I
will, I will,” her father promised.

“Good.”

“I
need you to do something for me,” he said.

“Okay.”

“I
need you to go to into my study and pull out my case files for the judge who’s
taking over my cases. Okay, darling?” he asked.

“Of course.
Whatever you need.”

“Good
girl. I gave the list to Alex. My keys are in my pants pocket. The files are in
the top drawer on the left side of the desk,” he instructed. “A courier will be
by tomorrow to pick them up. I’ve instructed Alex to take you home. There’s no
reason for you hang out around here.”

“I’d
really rather stay,” she protested.

“I
appreciate that, darling. But, you need to get cleaned up, you’re a mess.” She
cringed at the recriminations. “Plus, I need a small case packed, and you know
what I like. Also, I need to make sure the windows are replaced and the dining
room cleaned up. Can you take care of that?”

“Yes,
Father.”

“Good
girl!” he said with a smile. “Now, get Alex back in here and get ready to go,”
he said dismissively.

As
she and Alex drove silently through the streets of downtown Savannah she tried
to wrap her mind around the fact that someone had deliberately shot her father.
While he was a Judge, she couldn’t think of any reason anyone would want to
kill him. He could be a little abrupt and aggressive at times, but to want him
dead? With a headache brewing behind her eyes at the lack of sleep, and the
stress of situation, she absentmindedly reached back and released her hairclip.
She closed her eyes as she massaged the back of her scalp.

“Tired?”
Alex asked quietly.

“Not
as tired as you, I’m sure,” she murmured without opening her eyes.

“All
part of the job,” he replied.

“What
happens now?” she asked as she leaned her head back against the grey leather of
the SUV.

“Security
will be tightened,” he stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

“What
about my job? Will I be able to go to work?” she asked.

“You
can. But you’ll need to have someone with you.”

“For
how long?” she asked.

“For
as long as it takes.”

“For
as long as it takes for what?” she asked, opening her eyes to stare at his
profile.

He
flicked a quick look in her direction.
“To ensure yours and
the Judge’s safety.”

Trinity
thought of how tightly restrictive her father already kept her, and shuddered
to think of even more constraint. “Do you think my father is overreacting with
my need for security as well? The threat is against him, not me.
Right?”

Alex
remained silent for so long, she thought he wasn’t going to answer. “You could
be used against him. You are a weak link where he is concerned,” he said
without inflection.

She
bristled against the words
weak link
.
All her life, her father had treated her as if she were indeed weak. And even
though she’d graduated Suma Cum Laude from college, he acted as if she didn’t
possess an ounce of common sense. Not for the first time, she wished her mother
had lived. Her slaying at the hands of their kidnappers had been the catalyst
of her father’s irrational over-protectiveness – or maybe rational over-protectiveness,
in view of recent events.

Trinity
and Alex were met in the garage by
Ringo
Barnes,
another bodyguard from Alex’s agency,
Savannah
Security, Inc
.

Alex
shook hands with
Ringo
.
“Everything
okay?”

Ringo
nodded, glanced at Trinity, and then turned back to the entrance of the house.
Trinity trailed behind them, more nervous than she expected. Cautiously, she
split away from them when they headed into the kitchen. She stepped slowly into
the dining room and was surprised to see it looking as if nothing had happened.
The only difference being the window now housed a standard window glass and not
the beautiful stained-glass work. It had cost her father a small fortune for
the stained-glass, she was sure he wouldn’t be happy about having to replace it.
She looked at the carpet where he’d fallen, and outside of it still being wet,
there was no evidence of the blood that had been there the night before.

She
jumped when Alex spoke from behind her.
“Trinity?
You
okay?”

She
swallowed at how close her father had come to dying the night before. “I’m
fine. I think I’ll shower and catch a nap,” she said, turning away from him.

“Okay,
well I’m going to head to the office and then home. I’ll be back in the
morning. If you need anything, let
Ringo
know. Try
not to worry, everything will be fine.”

She
nodded. “Thanks again, Alex. I appreciate all you did for my father and me.”

“Ma’am,”
he said with a smile and a slight bow of his head – a throwback to his southern
upbringing, no doubt.

Chapter 2

Trinity exhaustedly slid out of her
black pumps and stepped into the luxuriously plush carpeting of her bedroom.
She unclasped the thin black belt around her waist and reached behind to unzip
her dress. Pulling the dress forward on her arms, she let it fall to pool at her
feet. She bent and threw the dress over the chair seated in front of her
vanity. She didn’t know if it would be worth having the white dress cleaned or
not. As she swung around, she caught her reflection in the long mirror attached
to her wardrobe door. She grimaced at the scrapes on both her knees. She took
in her reflection. Her long, dark hair was well cut and maintained so that it
hung smooth and shiny down her back. Her figure was average – meaning average
bust, incredibly small waist, and average bottom. Her face was average, with
its best features being her full redden lips and large, round, dark eyes.

She
let her gaze sweep the room she’d been in for the last fifteen years. There
were none of the things found in most girls’ rooms. There were no mementos from
her old high school or college; no pictures of friends; no stuffed animals left
behind from her childhood. The room was fashioned to be elegant – as her father
wanted it. As she looked at the sterile environment, loneliness flooded her.
While she’d never admit this to anyone, not even
Sundra
,
her best friend, she was lonely. She wanted to find a man to date – for more
than two dates, which was her average, and be a couple with him. She eventually
wanted to marry and have kids, the normal things most girls wanted. But so far,
she’d not managed to find this illusive creature. While she was asked out a
lot, after no more than a couple of dates, the men just drifted away, usually
without an explanation. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She didn’t
want to grow old with a houseful of cats. She wanted to grow old with someone
beside her… someone to hold her and love her.
Someone like Rush Drayton
, she thought, but shook her head. No, he
was definitely out of her league.

Her
father, and probably
Sundra
, too, would be shocked to
know how much of her time was filled with thoughts of love and sex. She often
wondered what it would feel like to have the warmth of a man’s hands running
over her body; to feel his lips against her skin; to feel him as he claimed her
body as his own. But so far in her nearly twenty-three years of life, she’d
never found out. Again, she wondered what was wrong with her. Most girls her
age had already had sex multiple times with multiple partners.

After
a quick shower, she slid in between her white cotton sheets and closed her
gritty eyes. She felt she had just closed her eyes when a soft tapping had her
slowly reopening them. Stretching her aching muscles, she slipped on her
housecoat.

“Come
in,” she said.

The
door pushed open to reveal Ms. Gibbons, the woman who’d been the only mother
she’d known since she was a young girl. Ms. Gibbons had been their housekeeper
since before she was born.

“I
wanted to let you know lunch is on the table, Trinity,” Ms. Gibbons said.

While
not feeling particularly hungry, Trinity smiled. “I’ll be right down.”

As
her father wasn’t there to object, she pulled on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt
and made her way downstairs, barefooted. She sat alone at the massive dining
room table and ate the melon and prosciutto on her plate. She looked around the
room thinking once again how lucky they all were. Thinking of her father
reminded her of the case files she needed to retrieve for the courier coming
the next day.

She
rose and retrieved his keys from her purse and headed into his study. His study
walls were paneled in deep, dark, walnut paneling; two walls had built-in
bookcases. In the center of the room was a massive desk her dad had procured
from an estate sale. It was antique and elegantly carved. She sat at his desk
and took in the familiar smell of the lemon wax polish Ms. Gibbons used.
Leaning forward, she picked up the picture of her mother and father taken on
their honeymoon. Her father was a different man in this picture than he was
now. He looked happy and carefree. They were standing on a beach and her mother
was swept up in his arms and they were smiling. Her mother’s long, dark hair,
so much like her own, blew in the wind. With a catch in her chest at her loss,
Trinity replaced the framed picture exactly where she’d gotten it from.

Turning
back to the task at hand, she tried to remember which drawer her father had
said. Not remembering, she stuck the key into a drawer and allowed it to slide
out on its rollers. She glanced at the list of files needed from the piece of
paper she’d gotten from Alex before beginning to thumb through the colored file
folders, each neatly labeled. She frowned as she went from folder to folder:
Adam
Chancey
;
Tommy Lanier; Court Monroe; John Stanley; Alan Weber; Langston Montgomery;
Scott Bowman
… These were all boys she’d dated over the years. A scowl
marred her features as she extracted one of folders. The label had
Zander Greene
typed on it. Flipping open
the folder, she let her gaze skim the page. At the top of the page was
Savannah Security, Inc
. in big, bold
typecast. From the words written, she was able to ascertain that she and
Zander, the boy she’d gone to junior prom with, had been under surveillance.
But why?
At the bottom of the page, written in red ink, was
the word:
Eliminated.

Eliminated?
What did that mean? From what she could remember, Zander had hounded her
nonstop to go to prom with him. She’d been flattered, of course. He’d been
good-looking and captain of the baseball team. After her one date with him to the
prom, he’d suddenly lost interest in her. She’d been hurt, assuming she’d done
something wrong.

She
threw the folder on top of the desk and pulled out another. This one was
labeled
Andy Nelson
, a man she’d gone
out with a couple times a month ago. She flipped open the file and glanced at
the bottom, again in red ink was handwritten:
Eliminated
. She saw notated on the page: the time he’d picked her
up; the restaurant they’d gone to, and the movie theater and movie they’d seen.
She saw the time he’d dropped her off and that Andy had kissed her outside the
door. The make and model of his car was listed, as well as where he worked and
how much he money he made. He apparently had no prior police record and paid
his bills on time.

The
folder slipped from her fingertips as the cold reality of what all these
folders meant. Her father had her followed on every one of her dates and then
had
them
‘eliminated’. Why would he do that? Of
course, she knew why. Anger flooded her as she thought of all the times she’d
sat in her room crying over one of these boys who’d stopped speaking to her or
avoided her. She’d thought it had been her, when it had been her father! She
was so tired of his overprotective heavy handedness.

A
clawing feeling of claustrophobia settled in her chest. Needing to get out, she
went up to her room and changed quickly into a pair of jeans and a white
sweater. She quietly slipped out of her bedroom. She peered over the banister
just in time to see
Ringo
head for the kitchen.
Moving stealthily down the stairs, she glanced back at the hall leading to the
kitchen, not seeing anyone; she slipped out the front door, and closed it
soundlessly behind her.

She
walked quickly down two blocks and entered a small coffee shop called
The Hotspot
. She went to the counter and
bought a cup of coffee and sat in a booth. She pulled out her phone and called
for a taxi. Her hands began to tremble as she thought about the total evasion
of her life. She might have been able to understand when she was a child, but a
month ago? This was just too much. He’d gone too far this time. Her chest
burned with hurt and humiliation. She wondered what had been said to those boys
and men.

She
rose when the taxi arrived, and slid into the backseat.
“The
Savannah Museum of Art, please.”

Needing
peace, she headed to the only place that would give it to her. The museum
housed several different exhibits, ranging from paintings, to sculptures, to
rare artifacts. Trinity’s favorite section was the sculptures. She gave a wave
to Henry, the man at the admissions counter. She’d been at the museum so many
times, he knew her now by her first name.

Moving
quickly, she entered the huge atrium which housed the sculptures. Three sides
of the atrium were engineered out of weathered glass. Surrounding the atrium
were beautiful gardens full of colorful flowers and lush green shrubs. She
slowed her walk and breathed in the beauty of her surroundings. She was happy
to see the room empty as she’d hoped it would at this time on a Friday. She
moved to the stone bench in the center of the room and sat down with her purse
in her lap. A thought crossed her mind, and she quickly opened her purse and
pulled out her airline ticket; she’d been afraid her father might have somehow
taken it. Her eyes stung with renewed frustration.

She
inhaled a deep, calming breath and allowed her eyes to flow over each
sculpture, over their smooth lines and intricate carvings. She liked the Roman
pieces the best. Their features were strong and bold. Their muscles so defined,
she could almost imagine they were real. The burn in her chest lessened as she
sat. She once again breathed in a cleansing breath, and wasn’t aware of the
tears on her cheeks until that moment.

“They
are quite breathtaking, aren’t they?”

She
jumped at the familiar male voice behind her. She raised a hand to her face to
swipe at the tears and cleared her throat. “Yes, they really are,” she murmured
without turning around. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man move to
the bench and sit down. She continued to stare straight ahead at the finely
honed masterpieces.

“This
is my favorite place in the museum,” Rush Drayton said with husky undertones.

“Mine,
too,” she said softly.

“To
have that kind of genius inside must be a wonderful thing,” he continued.

She
only nodded, wishing he’d either leave, or at the very least, leave her alone.

“You
have to wonder, though, if it doesn’t take a little bit of insanity to create
something this surreal.”

Surprised
at his obvious appreciation of the works, she said, “Aristotle said there is no
great genius without a mixture of madness.” She turned her head for the first
time to the man sitting next to her.

She
swallowed to keep from gasping at how stunning the man was. He was the one that
was surreal. He reminded her of the statues. He was still facing the
sculptures, pondering her quote, she supposed. He was tanned and his lips were
full and curved into a soft smile as he studied the white marble before him. He
must have felt her stare because he turned his head towards her. She swallowed
again at how absolutely breathtaking he was.

“Aristotle, huh?
I’m
gonna
use that quote if you don’t
mind,” he said with a grin.

She
blushed and looked away. “Please do. I’m sure Aristotle would have liked to be
quoted.”

“Trinity,
wasn’t it? Beautiful name,” he said.

Clearing
her throat again, she smiled. “Thanks.”

“Going
somewhere?” he asked, pointing down at the plane ticket clutched tightly within
her grasp.

“Thinking
about it,” she replied, “Vail.”

“
Ahh
.
I own a few properties in Vail. It’s
a great place.”

Before
she could reply, her phone blared out its ringtone. She blushed and scrambled
to reclaim it from her purse, irritated at herself for forgetting to turn it
off. She gave Rush Drayton an apologetic smile. Rising from the bench, she
clicked the phone on.

“Hello,”
she murmured.

“Where
the hell are you?” Alex Masters asked with irritation.

“None of your business!”

“You
can either tell me where you are, or I’ll simply…”

She
clicked the phone off in the middle of his threat. She was a grown woman of
legal age. She did not need to be babysat. She took a deep breath, suddenly
feeling claustrophobic again. It seemed no matter how she struggled, she
couldn’t get enough air. She was suffocating. She felt even further trapped by
the man sitting behind her, obviously watching her with avid interest.

Turning
quickly, she practically ran from the room. Behind her, she heard the godlike
man call after her, but she kept going. Her father had a stranglehold on her,
and she didn’t know how to loosen its grip.

She
stepped outside the museum and flagged down one of the taxis
cruising
the street.

“The
airport, please,” she said as she leaned back in the seat. She flipped open her
purse and double-checked her ticket was still there. When the taxi pulled up in
front of the airport, Trinity paid him and got out. She sighed heavily at
knowing she had no clothes and would need to buy everything when she arrived in
Colorado.

She
only had to wait an hour to catch the flight to Vail. She’d texted
Sundra
to let her know she was on her way. When she reached
the Denver International Airport, her phone sang out its ringtone. She glanced
briefly at it and sighed.