“I may be a little while,” Alec said when we paused at the entrance to the gym, “but I’ll come see you again after.”
“Can I watch your practice?” I asked.
“No.” The answer was too quick.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want you to see that, to see me like that.”
“You don’t scare me.”
“Trust me, you don’t want to see it.”
I realized it would bother him, distract him, if I were there. “Be careful.”
He smirked, kissed my cheek, and then went for the gym. I stood there and watched after him, wondering. His smirk was the cocky one. I usually liked to see it. It gave me confidence. I’d seen him practice; I knew he could fight, and Vincent seemed to agree. He was surprised when I told him Alec was hurt when he went to see Joe Bishop. I had the impression he’d never seen Alec lose a fight and that was the first time he’d ever been worried he might not win.
But the night I first took care of him Alec said he’d had much worse. He was serious when he said it, not a lie to make me relax.
I turned and headed slowly upstairs.
Perhaps Alec had serious altercations before meeting Vincent? It fit with his rebellious youth. But Vincent told Zoe he’d known Alec for almost fifteen years—Alec would’ve been only about ten or eleven.
Also, there was Vincent’s reaction when I told him Alec said his injury didn’t hurt. He’d said, “of course,” as if he knew Alec would play off an injury, as if he’d seen him do it before—but if he’d never known him to lose a fight… What in the world was I missing?
I sat at my desk to wait for Alec and fell asleep, arms folded across an open book.
“Adriane,” Alec said in my ear.
I opened my eyes but didn’t move at first, lost in the feel of his cool hand brushing my hair off my neck. He lifted me from the chair and carried me to bed. He lay me down and covered me with the blankets then sat on the edge, petting my hand and up my arm.
While he did this, I took a quick inventory.
“I told you,” he said as he watched his hand on my skin, “just a practice.”
I glared. “You know everything.”
He lowered his eyebrows in mock seriousness. “You worry about all the wrong things.”
“I only worry about you.”
He lifted his chin arrogantly. “Exactly.”
I sat up on my elbow. “You wouldn’t tell me if you were hurt.”
“I rarely receive injuries.”
I touched his shoulder, where it’d been black
“That was an extreme circumstance.” He lay down on his side next to me, and turned his full attention to caressing my neck, surely trying to distract me, trying to avoid any serious discussions.
I tried to push him over to lie on his back. He didn’t budge, now pulling his fingers through my hair, while the corner of his mouth twitched.
I attacked with a kiss.
This time, I easily rolled him.
I held myself up with my hands on his chest. “I win.”
He laughed. “I don’t remember learning that maneuver.”
“I just taught you.”
“It’s been a while since I learned something new.” He reached to pull me back to him.
“No.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I need to make sure I know why I’m worrying about you.”
His expression evened, but he let me go on, didn’t close himself off completely.
“You won’t admit when something hurts you,” I said. “I need to take care of you, or at least try. But I don’t understand you. I will always appreciate everything you’ve already shared, but I want to earn enough trust for you to let me in.”
“I do trust you.”
“But you won’t let me in.”
He touched my face with his fingertips. His expression strained. I kept my hands on him, partially to soothe, and partially to keep him from getting up and turning away.
My voice was soft. “You’re a mystery sometimes, a contradiction. Sometimes it makes you more beautiful, but sometimes it’s just baffling. You say you’re rarely hurt, and Vincent was surprised to find that you had been. But...”
“Go on.”
“You said you’ve had worse.” I touched the scar almost completely concealed by his eyebrow. “And I’ve seen your scars.”
He continued to wait.
“Vincent told me about when you met Mr. Bishop,” I said.
“I know.”
“If you made it through that with not even a broken bone, who could possibly hurt you?”
“Someone who could not find forgiveness.”
Forgive him for what? What could he have ever done, and who had the ability? He blamed himself for his mother, which explained much of his own internal anger, but…did it cause someone else’s?
I covered my mouth with my hand.
He gave no expression.
I slowly lowered my hand. “He hurt you?”
“I was the cause of her death.”
“When?”
“She died the same day as my birth.”
I had no idea what to say.
He laid a hand on my cheek. “I’m all right, Adriane.”
“You won’t tell me when you hurt,” I retorted.
He pulled me into a hug, and smoothed his hand down my back.
This was the reason for his overwhelming guilt for his mother, why he needed to hear that it wasn’t his fault—and why his father never said it.
His father blamed him for killing her.
It sounded like Alec hadn’t fought back. He’d never lost a fight—he’d allowed himself to be beaten, as if he felt he deserved it. His father had made him believe his mother’s death was his fault.
“I promise I’m fine,” he said.
I knew that wasn’t true. I kept myself pressed to him, hiding the distress on my face.
He was quiet. I had the feeling he wasn’t sure what to do, how to handle my reaction. Then I worried he might see my tears as having sprung from pity. That was probably worse for him than his father’s hatred.
I swallowed hard and took several deep breaths. Then, with a calm expression, I sat straight. He held my hand as he sat to face me. I did not tell him I was sorry for him. I swallowed the words as they crawled up my throat.
My voice was gentle. “Tell me.”
He looked at our hands. I doubted he’d ever talked about this, even with Hanna.
I squeezed his hand tighter. “Please, Alec.”
He looked up, made eye contact. I swore I could see as he battled against his natural tendency to shut people out.
“I always knew I would never be deserving.” His tone was level, like stating facts. “I could never atone for killing my mother.”
“It was her choice.”
“Logically, I understand that.” He rubbed his thumb across the back of my hand. “You helped me see it.”
“But you still don’t think you’re deserving.”
“I’ve only proven his point over the years.”
“You’re a good man.” I fought to keep my aggravation out of my voice.
He shook his head, as if I was completely missing something. “He said I would never have someone. He was right.”
I held his hand tighter. “I love you.”
“I always knew, from the first day I saw you, I would do anything for you, no matter how much it hurt. I will give you anything you need. I will protect you. No matter what happens.”
He sounded like he was telling me goodbye, or at least like he was going to in the near future. My stomach wrenched. “Please, Alec…”
He touched my cheek. “I promise.”
My anger flared, anger at him, at his father, at myself. I was failing. “If you insist on pushing me away, why’d you let me in at all? Why’d you let me be more than just your friend? Why’d you kiss me?”
His tone was calm, explanative. “You woke up. The haze in your eyes was gone, and I could see you again. I saw you wanted more than friendship.” His eyebrows lowered. “It was difficult. What you wanted was clear, but he was screaming…”
Screaming. I’d seen it, the battle behind his eyes, as if he was enduring blaring sound, the headache.
“You hear him,” I said.
“His words echo in my head, in my conscience.”
I brushed my hand down the side of his face, across his ear. “He’s loud.”
“Yes.” His tone was quiet, calm and patient. “The more I wanted you, the louder, the more commanding, he was.”
He was using the past tense.
“You don’t hear him anymore,” I said.
“Not since the night you woke up, when you insisted on taking care of me.” He closed his eyes. “My God, it was so quiet.” His expression relaxed, like the slow roll of clouds after a storm, after they’ve spent all their angry energy. He wasn’t angry, not at me, not at his father. It was the expression of blind acceptance, and I knew it was his father’s words he’d accepted.
“It can always be quiet,” I said. “I’m good at quiet.”
He smiled a little as he opened his eyes. “You always have been.” Then he leaned in and lightly touched my lips with his. It was like he was savoring dessert a little at a time, making it last.
I knew what he was doing—stopping the discussion. He was done talking. He wasn’t going to argue with me, wasn’t going to let me argue with him, and I decided not to try. I kissed him back, tried to show him I wasn’t going to let go, that I would always want him.
With his gentle hands and soft lips, he controlled the kiss. He lay me down, but his hands didn’t wander past my neck.
I reached for the hem of his shirt.
He took my hand and laced his fingers through mine. He kept the kiss light, soft, controlled.
“I love you,” I murmured against his lips.
He paused and lifted just enough to make eye contact. “I will always love you,” he said, “no matter what happens.” His tone was like a soldier saying goodbye to his wife, like he was deploying and was confident he would not return.
He held me to his chest and stroked my hair.
I slid my hand down his stomach, toward the button of his pants.
He took my hand and brought it to his lips. Then he continued stroking my hair.
Afraid he might leave, I stopped trying to get him to do more.
***Alec***
The parking garage was dark, even more so since they had broken several of the lights. Alec persuaded Bishop to stay in the car he’d “borrowed”. No one should know they were working together—no one should know Alec was involved at all. It wouldn’t be a big leap for Dean to realize where Adriane was. This was why Alec needed dark. He had to be the one to talk to Talbert, to…persuade him, while maintaining anonymity.
Alec’s and Bishop’s men were positioned around the garage, in the deepest shadows. Alec had been concerned about them working together, but so far it had been smooth. Bishop had control of his men, or rather, he had their respect—they seemed to trust his judgment blindly.
Finally, the door leading from the city hall offices opened. Talbert paused at the wall of darkness. The silence was perfect. Not one man made a sound.
Looking around wildly, Talbert started forward. He looked like a bird on speed. Alec was expecting him to start flapping soon. If Talbert was this scared of the dark, Alec realized he would have to be careful with him.
Talbert passed Alec’s position behind a cement pillar. Silently, Alec stepped forward and followed Talbert to his car. Talbert took his keys from his pocket, and they rattled in his shaking hand. Alec couldn’t help but smirk. He’d never understood the concept of being afraid of the dark. Adriane, delicate and lovely, was not afraid of the dark. Even living alone, she often never turned on more than one small lamp at night, just enough light to read by. Adriane was stronger than this pussy. She’d always fascinated him with her strength, so different from what he was used to. She’d showed him it was possible to be gentle as well as strong, like flowers growing out from under rock.
Talbert dropped his keys, and Alec took the opportunity. Before Talbert could bend over to pick them up, Alec was there, a hand firmly grasping his neck from behind, holding his head still.
He kept his voice a low murmur so Talbert wouldn’t be able to recognize it. “Mr. Talbert, I presume.” This was the test to see what Talbert was made of—to see if he was really just a secretary.
Talbert continued to shake, obviously unable to speak. Alec started to wonder if he might lose continence.
“You are Samuel Dean’s assistant,” Alec said, “in all matters. I would be careful if I were you. Some of those matters may get you into trouble one of these days.”
Talbert spluttered something incoherent. He obviously wasn’t capable of coherency at the moment.
Thoroughly annoyed, Alec took a paper with the number of a throw-away cell from his jacket and stuffed it into Talbert’s shirt pocket. His voice was threatening. “If you’d like to stay out of prison, call this number—and in a timely manner.”
Talbert’s head bobbed.
Alec took that to mean he understood. He pushed Talbert the last few inches closer to the car and pressed him against it, with just his hand on his neck. “Count to ten, then get in your car, and go.”
Talbert was quiet.
“Out loud, you dumb fuck,” Alec muttered.
Talbert’s voice tremored. “One, two…”
Alec stepped back and slipped into the shadows.
“…four, five, six…”
Alec rolled his eyes. How slowly was the idiot going to count?
“…eight, nine, ten.” Talbert hesitated, and then without looking around, he picked up his keys, and stumbled into his car. The tires squealed as he turned out of the garage.
One of Bishop’s men started laughing.
***Adriane***
Steam rose from the water filling the bathtub, and I could almost hear the sizzle of it against my cool skin. I welcomed the scald. It slowed my thoughts. Maybe this was what Alec meant about physical pain being easier.
“Adriane.”
Alec’s voice came through the cracked door. He didn’t open it any farther. The water splashed off me as I stood and grabbed a towel.
I opened the door. He was standing straight, wearing his usual clean-and-pressed suit, and he smelled right, the hint of aftershave still clinging to him. He was all right. Holding the towel in place with one hand, I pulled myself tightly to him with the other.
“Thank you,” I said against his shirt.
“Anything for you.”
“How’d it go? Did he say anything?”
He didn’t answer, and my mind jumped to the worst possibilities. I pulled back and looked up at him. From the way his neck was tilted, I realized he’d been smelling my hair.
I smiled.
He led me to the next room to sit on the bed. He told me only the basics—that Talbert hadn’t seen him, and that he hadn’t given Alec any information, yet. Alec was waiting for him to call. He seemed annoyed Talbert had been so easily scared.
“Who has the phone?” I asked.
“Vincent. I want him to be thrown off by different voices, so he has no guess as to who’s hiding you. Vincent’s tone and manner of speech are very different from mine.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“What?” he asked.
“No one talks like you.”
“How is that?”
“You used the word ‘modicum’ to describe a man’s, um…” He was very annoyed with Talbert’s lack of…fortitude.
He tilted his head, waiting for me to say it. “Testicles?”
I smacked his arm, and he laughed.
“You know what I mean,” I said. “Proper grammar and a full vocabulary mixed with curse words.”
“Sometimes ‘fuck’ conveys the point more clearly than ‘I am displeased’.”
I smacked him again. He laughed harder.
“You trust Vincent the most,” I said. “Don’t you?” Anyone would’ve done if it was only about voice.
“I do. I’ve known him since I was a child. He’s a good man.”
That made me feel a little better, somehow. If Alec trusted him like that, then I trusted him too—to watch out for Alec.
“Do you think Talbert’ll call?” I asked.
His expression deadened. “He’d better.”
I pushed on his chest to get him to lie down. He pulled me with him.
“You’re not so tough,” I said.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Look at you, being pushed around by a ballerina.”
He smiled, and I allowed the subject to move to other things—things that were fun to discuss and debate, and had no possibility of being upsetting. And I never did put on proper clothes, just the towel. I again fell asleep to Alec’s hand stroking my hair down my back.
Before the sun completely filled the room, a knock at the door roused me. Alec was still stroking my hair.
“Sleep,” he murmured then slid out from under my limp body.
I didn’t fully wake until I heard Charlie’s voice, low and urgent. “He wants to meet again.”
“When?” Alec asked.
“As soon as you can get there.”
“Ten minutes.”
“Yes, sir.”
Charlie left, and the door closed.
I was sitting up in bed when Alec turned. “Everything will be fine,” he said.
“Will you bring all of them? Vincent and the others?”
“That’s not necessary.”
“For me? Please.”
He sighed. “All right.”
“Good.” I sat up on my knees, holding the towel in place, and wrapped an arm around his neck. “Please be safe.”
We changed, and I went with him downstairs. Charlie was waiting in the foyer. Behind him, two cars were visible through the narrow windows that flanked the front doors. We stopped several feet away from him, and Alec gave me a short but sensual kiss.
Charlie shifted uncomfortably
I reached around Alec to give him a quick hug. My fingers brushed the cold of metal, and I froze. Somewhere in my mind I knew why he’d stepped into the closet before leading me downstairs. Actually feeling the gun made it more difficult.
He pulled my hands away. “I promise.” Then he stepped out into the sudden downpour.