The heaviest part of the storm passed Bex by with a bottle of pinot on the coffee table and an old Steve McQueen movie on the TV, at least, until she lost power and then it was just her and the bottle. Considering her mood, she couldn’t think of better company.
The Fergusons, or as she privately thought them ‘Manson-family Lite’, were giving her gray hairs. So much angst, rage, and resentment distributed between the three of them, there was no way out that didn’t involve extensive blood loss and/or counseling. There was no way out of this that would leave them intact, and that was a hard pill to swallow, considering all she’d done to help them change their lives since they’d come into the program.
Violet, on the other hand, remained completely unfazed by the upheaval of leaving her old life and moving into the program. Of course, up to this point, everything in her life had been unsettled, so it stood to reason that she could adapt quickly to just about anything.
She was a kindred spirit, with her eyes sharp and her back unbowed because she didn’t know any other way to carry on. She’d referred to her experiences in Massachusetts as her ‘prison break’, out of bondage and into her own life as a free woman. In a lot of ways, Vi’s life was similar to Bex’s, whose life had been one big prison break, from two days before her seventh birthday when the man she’d thought had been her father left after learning the truth, until now. Only Vi had managed to ditch her jailers and really make a break for it.
Bex smiled, such a tough kid, with the stones to walk away from her mother, and the only life she’d known, at fourteen. Reclining on the couch with her feet on the table, she swirled the wine in her glass. Had it not been for her younger sister, she would have made the same choice. Walked away from the drama, the craziness, and the maternal albatross around her neck. Her life would certainly have been different without the chaos and the endless stage show tragedy that was her own mother, even in her occasional bouts of sobriety.
Only that wasn’t true. She grimaced as she sipped her wine. Whether she wanted it or not, the other constant in her life brought order from the white noise with no visible effort at all. Eli was with her, beside her as her friend, behind her as her ally, and in front of her when necessary, always without complaint and no expectation of a reward. And it was only recently that she began to suspect why.
He never said anything about it, which was surprising given his penchant for talking about anything that came to his mind, but every once in a while she saw . . . something. A flash of longing on his face, an extra hint of affection beyond merely being her friend, hell, even last night as she sat mutely on his couch. He was tender with her, in a way that seemed different from the way he interacted with other women. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on her part, but she’d been expertly reading people since about the age of ten, and felt pretty confident.
That confidence, however, didn’t necessarily translate into action. Just because she believed that maybe, most likely, he felt the same didn’t mean that she knew what to do about it from here. Her longest relationship to date had only lasted one tumultuous year and the restraining order was still in effect. She figured that long-term relationships just weren’t in her DNA. It’s not like she’d had the best of role models, either.
It didn’t mean that she hadn’t thought about it more than once. The long car rides transporting witnesses, when they got to talk, really talk. He drove, so she could watch him to her heart’s content without concern of being discovered. His angular features gave him a somewhat austere look that his blue eyes infused with warmth. His mouth was quick to smile and had been at the root of more than a couple fantasies of hers, late at night fare that wouldn’t even be okay on cable.
The phone rattled on the coffee table in front of her, making her frown. There were only two reasons for late night calls, neither of which she felt like dealing with right now. One look at the caller ID had a rueful smile tugging at her lips. “Afraid of the dark?”
“Nyctophobia, from the Greek Nyx or night, is one of the most common and primal of man’s fears, but alas, I just wanted to check on you.” His late-night voice, all sexy and honeyed with a touch of bourbon, always reminded her of dark chocolate, decadent and mostly forbidden. Even when he was spitting out random factoids, she just loved listening to him talk. “I lost power during the last lightning strike.”
“Same here. Killed my movie. You never see Bullitt on cable.” She kicked her legs up so she was stretched out on the couch, a hand behind her head as she closed her eyes and imagined him in bed, speaking life into the darkness around him. “What about you?”
He hummed and in her mind she could see him stretching out, the sheet inching lower on his bare chest. “Played a little online chess, watched a rerun of Ghost Hunters International, nothing special.”
Her lips twitched in amusement. “We’re an action-packed pair, aren’t we?”
He hummed in agreement. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You know you can call me if you need me.”
“I know.” She sighed and leaned up to sip the last of her wine. He was always just a shade extra attentive when she was having a tough time, bringing her thoughts on him full circle. “You take good care of me.”
“Someone has to.” The smile in his voice warmed her and reminded her of a cozy hug. “Sleep well, Bex.”
“You too, Eli.” They disconnected and for a moment she let herself dream of not having to tell him goodnight. Of resting comfortably in his arms, regardless of the storms outside, literal and figurative.
Bex knew she was a train wreck when it came to relationships, so that’s why they remained only fantasies. His gentle and loving nature would be bled dry in under a week and it would wreck the best partnership and friendship she’d ever had. Regardless of the potentially smokin’ hot sex they’d have, she knew it was probably a bad idea. Still, in the dark, it was a nice dream to have.
* * *
AR had turned in around midnight. He’d foregone going to the gym, because the heavy dinner Violet had cooked for him had left him sluggish and sleepy.
The whole visit weighed heavy on his mind. Her resolve to carry on in the face of unimaginable horror was inspiring, even if the events of her early life had left marks on her psyche that were most likely permanent. He’d asked what he thought would be an innocent question, which was laughable in hindsight, and she’d come out swinging. Rightfully so. Even then, she’d forgiven his transgression with very little fanfare.
Thunder sounded in the distance, and the rain beat a soft tattoo against the windows. He’d been hearing about the coming storm all day, but hadn’t paid that much attention to the weather since Bex had given him his assignment. After that, all he could think of was Violet.
Every thought he’d had since leaving her apartment had somehow migrated back to her. She was like a magnet, drawing him closer to her, despite his determination to remain unmoved. A piece of her had even managed to make it into his apartment, in the form of the book she’d given him before he’d left her tonight.
He stared at the book on his bedside table, still undecided. The cover was unremarkable, faded green cloth and slightly frayed at the corners. No writing other than the miniscule, gold lettering on the spine. It was deceptively seductive. Absolutely nothing about the book said lurid, but he’d have been lying to say that the temptation wasn’t great. Just a little view into her world, some common ground for them, when he knew he shouldn’t want that at all.
He had to wonder if every witness was going to be this vexing, though he knew that was his mind trying to reconcile the fact that Violet was special to him, even if his choice was not the appropriate one. He’d never thought this much about propriety and decorum in his entire life, and he was pretty sure he was over it.
Reclining in the bed, AR picked up the book and leafed through the forward. It wouldn’t hurt him to just start the book. No one said he had to finish it, right?
He came awake with a start, the book sliding off his chest and onto the floor next to the bed. It took a moment for him to place what it was that roused him from slumber, but then he heard his phone vibrating on his nightstand after the rumble of thunder subsided. Given his vivid dreams earlier in the week, he took a moment to yank out a leg hair just to make sure he was actually awake. The pain made enough of a statement to convince him.
She started talking as soon as he answered, sounding terrified, “Atticus? It’s Violet.”
He sat up, not bothering with the light. “Are you okay?”
“I-I don’t know. I had this dream . . . I woke up, and I thought there was somebody in the apartment. And there was no light and . . .”
AR was pulling on his running shoes and grabbing his gun, the phone wedged between his jaw and shoulder. He only stopped long enough to grab the raincoat by the door. “Okay, are you still in the apartment?” Running down the stairs of his building, he paused at the door as he watched the rain come down in evenly spaced sheets. There was no way to get to his car without getting drenched from the knees down. Fuck it.
“I checked around the apartment and didn’t find anyone—”
“You checked around the apartment?” He was loath to speed as rain-slicked streets and rear-wheel drive were not a good combination, but the idea of her confronting an intruder by herself had him dropping the hammer and praying silently. “I’m less than five minutes out. Stay on the phone ’til I get there.”
Her quavering breath over the phone made his insides twist in pain. “You don’t have to come. I’m sorry. I’m sure it was nothing. Just a stupid dream and a stupid thunderstorm. I’m sorry.”
“If you apologize to me one more time, I . . .” He wanted to threaten to turn her over his knee, but that was not where his mind should be. “Don’t apologize. Just . . . just don’t. I’ll be there in a minute.” He turned into the parking lot of her complex and she still hadn’t spoken. “Violet? Are you there?”
“Yeah.” She sniffled. “I’m here.”
“Good,” he said with a smile, “so am I.” He parked as close to her building as he could and ran to the breezeway, though it didn’t do a lot of good as his shorts where still clinging to him like he’d put them on just after the rinse cycle and his shoes were sloshy.
Violet threw open the door before he even had a chance to knock. “Hi.” She stood there in her black t-shirt, with her blanket wrapped around her like a toga, the phone in one hand and a butcher’s knife in the other, clutched in a way that suggested she knew what to do with it.
AR took a moment to just stare, because the two braids down the side of her head and the butcher’s knife glinting as the lightning streaked across the sky behind him was so absurd, he wasn’t sure what to do with the image. “Really?”
She blinked at him. “You didn’t expect me to check the apartment unarmed, did you?”
He snorted a laugh before he got a hold of himself. “No, but I do expect you to wait right here while I, the trained professional, check the apartment, before we declare it ‘all clear’. You got me?” She cleared her own apartment with a butcher’s knife. He didn’t know whether to be proud or terrified.
Vi sighed deeply and nodded, stepping out of his way to let him in the door. She locked it behind him and started towards the kitchen. “I guess I can put this away now.”
He shook his head and turned on the small flashlight he’d had in his pocket. “Just wait right here. I’ll be back in a second. Okay?”
She nodded and he headed towards her bedroom, his gun out. He cleared the small room, and the closet, checking under the queen sized bed, as well. It struck him that everything was meticulously clean, like that was all she did in her spare time besides read. The bathroom was the same, empty and clean, even when he pulled back the shower curtain. He’d tried the lights in all the rooms after he’d cleared them, but none came on. He searched the linen closet and the hall closet, finding them unoccupied, as well, and he checked the breaker box in the hall closet and declared the electricity situation hopeless for now.
He walked back out to the living room and found her standing by the door, knife still in hand. “Now you can put that away.”
“Oh, thank you,” she said on a sigh and went to the kitchen. “Do we need to call Bex?”
AR re-holstered his weapon and shook his head. “I don’t think so. I mean, there’s no real threat that I can see.”
“Okay.” She walked over to him and went to hug him, only to jump back when she realized how soggy he was. He’d forgotten to take his rain slicker off when he’d done his search. “I am so sorry, Atticus. You’re soaked. I didn’t mean to bring you out in the rain.”
Now that she mentioned it, his body began trembling slightly from the chill and damp soaking through his shorts and shoes. “You’re fine, really. I told you to quit apologizing. This is what I’m here for.”
“To catch pneumonia?”
“Well, no,” he laughed ruefully, “not that. But to take care of you.” He pulled the raincoat off over his head and hung it over the back of a chair in the kitchen. “You don’t have to apologize for being scared.”
Vi opened her mouth a couple times but did not speak, finally walking off into the back bedroom. She emerged a moment later with another blanket in her hands. “Here, take your shoes and shorts off.”
Of all the things he’d ever expected, that was definitely last on his list. “Excuse me?”
“Your shoes and shorts. We’ll hang them up, or stick them in the oven, and they can dry out so you don’t get sick, okay?”
Not that he was complaining, but he was sure that there were all kinds of rules against what she’d just suggested. “You know, Vi, I really should be going.” He picked up his raincoat, planning on walking out with it in his hand, hoping that the cool rain would appropriately dampen his libido.
“You can’t stay for a just a little while? At least ’til I fall asleep? Would that be okay? I’d sleep better knowing you’re here.” Lightning flashed, casting her face in a bluish glow. She looked so sad and afraid.
Just to appease his curiosity, he asked, “What’s the blanket for?”
“So you can wrap up in it and get warm while your clothes dry.”
The fact that he was even considering it should have stopped him right there, but he was cold, and she just looked so disconsolate. “Just until you go to sleep, right?”
She pressed the blanket into his hands, nodding. “Yeah. Please.”
“Okay, I’ll be right back.” He threw on his raingear and walked out to the car to grab his go bag. The constant sizzle of the water hitting the streets was loud enough to blot out the whispers of misgivings that passed through his mind as he contemplated this plan. He returned to the apartment quickly and she locked the door behind him without comment.
Feeling equally like this was the best and worst idea ever, he walked into her bathroom and changed into his dry pajamas. He had to admit it felt good to be out of the damp and into something warmer. After hanging his clothes on the lip of the bathtub, he returned to the living room to find Vi sitting on the couch, holding his blanket and a pillow.
“You going back to bed?” he asked as he took a seat next to her. She handed him the blanket and he unfolded it over his legs.
She stared at her hands and didn’t look at him. “Yeah, if that’s okay with you. Do you need anything before I go?”
He wanted to reach out and touch her arm, but thought better of it considering his earlier experience. He didn’t even count the hug she’d initiated because it had clearly been out of relief and nothing else. “I’m good, thank you. Get some sleep. I’m right out here.”
She nodded and walked back to her bedroom. “Thank you, Atticus,” she said as she paused in her doorway with her hand on the frame.
“You’re welcome, Violet.”
AR lay on her couch, pleased with his resolve as he stared at her ceiling. The storm had stalled out over them, the lightning and thunder settling into a comfortable constant rhythm, a slow strobe light that lulled him into a surprisingly peaceful sleep.
He didn’t know how long he’d been down when he came to with a start, the sound of Violet thrashing about in her room and screaming. He ran in there with his gun out, ready to take on whatever he found there, completely unprepared for what he saw.
Violet was contorted in the bed, bound up in her sheets, whimpering and crying. He put his gun back into its holster and set it down on the floor next to the bed. Not sure how to handle the situation, he went with his gut, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing a hand on her arm in an attempt to wake her. “Violet.”
She gripped his wrist much harder than expected, twisting away from his hand. “Take your hands off me! Don’t fucking touch me!”
Undaunted, he tried again, both hands on her upper arms, holding her still. “Vi, wake up, baby. Come on. You’re okay. Wake up.”
She fought him, doing her best to throw off his grip, shove him away, threatening and swearing, and instead of releasing her, he stayed, murmuring words of comfort and support, trying to draw her out of whatever hell enveloped her. Her hands were surprisingly strong, and would probably bruise his shoulders, and so he let go of her arms in hopes that would soothe her. She came around slowly, blinking, her grip on his shoulders loosening and sliding down to rest on his hands. “Hey.”
“Hi.” He couldn’t help smiling. “You all right?”
She stretched in the bed and sighed. “Maybe? I’m assuming you’re not here for your health.”
“You were yelling. I came to make sure you were okay.” He was acutely aware that her hands were still on his and she wasn’t flinching from his touch now.
“I guess I’m as okay as I’m going to be.” She sighed and laughed weakly. “It’s not always like this.”
Considering she was his first witness, the scope of his experience was distinctly limited. “Like what?”
“The dreams. They come and go in waves. I can go for weeks sometimes . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“Then they come back?” He brushed a lock of hair that had escaped her braid and tucked it behind her ear.
“They always come back.”
He watched her watch him for a moment, her eyes, so spectacularly vivid in the sunlight now inscrutable in the darkened room. “What’s on your mind?”
“Would you . . . stay with me?”
AR’s mouth dried out at the request and every muscle in his body went rigid. “I . . . um. I thought I already was.” Going for the humor was the only option that kept his voice from shaking.
“I meant in here.”
Oh, he’d known what she meant when she asked her initial question, but he really didn’t want to have to answer truthfully. The truth between them was problematic in the best of times, career-ending in the worst, and yet he knew she deserved more than lies and deception from him. “I’ll stay until you go to sleep, and then I’ll go back to the couch. Agreed?”
Violet nodded, the corner of her mouth curling up in a small grin. “Agreed.” She took her hands from his and scooted over in the bed to give him some room.
He supposed he should have been grateful that it was not a twin, but he was sure that there would be no bed large enough to keep the impure thoughts in check if he were lying next to her. Buying some time, he went to the living room to retrieve his pillow. He could do this. Just lie there in the same room as her, the same bed, and not touch her. This was not the hardest thing he’d ever done, though at the moment, his cock would probably disagree.
Feeling like he’d stalled long enough, he returned to the room to find her on her side, facing the window, and the sheet turned down on his side of the bed. Her silhouette in the flash of lightning was tempting, accenting her small frame, her lush hips underneath the sheet. He slid carefully into the bed, murmuring, “Margaret Thatcher, naked,” as he tried to keep his arousal at bay.
Vi turned and looked at him over her shoulder. “Hmm?”
He froze for a moment and then pulled the blankets over him. She wasn’t supposed to hear that. “Nothing. Go to sleep.” He lay on his pillow, his arm that was closest to her folded under his head to prevent any questionable behavior, and listened to her breathing. Before too long, exhaustion overcame any nerves he had about their current sleeping arrangements, and he drifted off.
AR awoke a little while later to peace and blissful quiet. The rain had slacked off to a steady patter on the window. The serpentine trails were visible through the shades from the street lights outside. Evidently, the electricity had come back on, too.
Wondering about the time, he tried to move his arm to see his watch, only to find that Vi had, in her sleep, wandered over from her side of the bed and taken up a position with her head on his shoulder and her arm across his stomach. “Oh man,” he breathed. So far beyond the bounds, he couldn’t even see them from where he was. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to move her, enjoying the feel of her soft little body cuddled up against him.
“Atticus?” She raised her head and opened one eye to look at him.
“Go back to sleep, Vi.” He figured as long as she was asleep, they wouldn’t have to confront the ashes of what was once his promising career as a WITSEC inspector.
She purred and stretched next to him, hooking her leg lightly around his. “What time is it?”
The feel of her breath on his neck had him flexing his fingers against a reaction. “I don’t know. Early, I guess. You’re lying on my watch.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Instead of moving back over to her side of the bed to free his arm, she wriggled even closer, rolling her pelvis against his.
It was all he could do not to groan at the contact. Intellectually, he knew that this was not a good idea, but parts of his body were protesting to the contrary quite vehemently. He looked at his watch and saw that it was still damn early, just after 4:30. “I should probably get going.”
Vi’s fingers were busy tracing distracting patterns on his stomach through his shirt. “Do you have to?”
“Yes.” Her hand’s slow journey lower and lower on his belly was the sole focus of his attention. As much as he wanted her to continue, he knew he should stop this, but found that he really didn’t want to. “Violet.” She looked up at him, blinking lazily as she continued her torturous massage. “You slept fine while I was here. No reason to think you won’t once I leave.”
Her hand stilled and she closed her eyes. “The operative phrase is ‘while you were here’. I slept well because you were with me. You make me feel safe, and I haven’t felt safe in a very long time.”
Her unprompted admission stole the wind from his argument, the breath from his lungs. To see her lay herself so emotionally bare in front of him was humbling. “Violet, I . . .”
She buried her face in his chest, fisting her hand in his t-shirt. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to put you on the spot, I just . . . I feel safe around you, cared for. I’ve never really had that before. I’m sorry.”
“Look at me.” AR waited until she lifted her chin, her eyes shining with unshed tears and full of tumult. “What’d I tell you about apologizing to me?”
She licked her lips, his eyes following the movement. “Okay. Then how ’bout this instead?” She moved quickly, sliding up just enough to press her lips to his.
The explosion of heat throughout his body was instantaneous, and had him tightening his arm around her, caressing her side. Her moan when he slipped his tongue between her lips brought him to his senses. His hand on her head moved to her shoulder and moved her away from him. “Violet.” His voice sounded rough, like he was on the ragged edge. “I can’t do this. We can’t do this.”
She moved to lie on her side facing him and he turned to face her, as well. “You don’t want me?”
That was the furthest thing from the truth he could think of. “That’s not what I said.”
Vi reached out to trace his features with her fingertips, down his face to his neck and then to his chest. “So you do want me?”
He covered her hand with his to keep her from her southward journey. “It’s more complicated than that and you know it.”
She moved closer to him, tangling her feet with his. “Not really. I feel . . . safe with you. Real. Normal.” She was close enough to him now that she nuzzled his nose with hers. “I want you, Atticus.”
He was surprised to find his hand had moved to her hip, sliding from there to her waist and back. Her shirt had ridden up as she moved, exposing the soft skin of her belly, which beckoned to his fingers.
“Please,” she whispered, “just this once.”
Touching her warm skin, the sound of her broken breath, the look of anticipation in her eyes, and his resolve disintegrated in front of him.
Her eyes widened and then drifted shut as he moved suddenly over her, laying her back on the pillow as his mouth covered hers. He cupped her cheek in his hand, her softness overwhelming him. His hand went back to her belly, dragging her shirt slowly upward to expose her breasts, full and firm. Taking her nipple into his mouth, he relished her moan of pleasure as her fingers speared into his hair to hold his head in place.
“Oh, God, Atticus . . . please . . .”
Now thoroughly aroused by her reactions to his ministrations, he knew that he was in for both a dime and a dollar, but he couldn’t be moved to care in the slightest.