AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He moved toward her, his footsteps hushed by the plush carpeting. Just as he reached out to touch her, her eyes blazed open and he steeled himself for her to scream.
But she just smiled at him, her big eyes hazy and unfocused. She kept dancing, her tongue tracing her lips.
Though the gesture felt ridiculous, Mal lifted a finger to his mouth in the universal sign for silence. She nodded and kept moving, tilting her head so all that glorious blond hair spilled in every direction. She held out a hand to him, and he stared, on the verge of clasping it.
“Mal, be careful. She’s…fragile. Women like her tend to bring out the desire to protect.”
He shook off the stupor that had infected him since he’d walked into this room. This wasn’t happening now. Not with her.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Her smile fled. Her expression turned quizzical and she angled her head, waiting for an explanation he didn’t have words to give.
Pointing at the wall, he lifted his brows. “Are you okay?” he repeated, keeping his voice as low as possible. “They didn’t touch you?”
She ducked her head, and he decided that was probably a dumb question. Lila had said Vinnie was Richelle’s boyfriend at one time.
He cocked a finger under her chin and lifted it. “Did he hurt you? Did he allow anyone else to hurt you?”
Confusion blossomed across her face. It wasn’t conventionally beautiful. Her features were somehow at odds with each other. Her nose was upturned and dotted with freckles he could see even in this light. Her mouth was too wide, her brows too dark in contrast with her white-blond hair. Her scant curves and angular body and pale skin definitely weren’t the standard California chic.
But she was arresting in a way he couldn’t forget.
“No.” Her voice was a rasp. “Just…no. No one hurt me.” That little half smile reappeared. “Except me.”
“Come on then.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her forward, stopping at the soft giggle that tumbled from her. It wasn’t brittle and broken, a hysterical sound caused by the traumas she’d suffered. Nor was it hysterical and unknowing, more from whatever she’d taken than fromher.
No, this sound was pure joy.
“Where are we—”
He shook his head and slammed his finger against his lips again. Her hand curled into his in a gesture of trust as she nodded. A smile still danced in her eyes. It was too dark to see their color or their expression, but he knew they’d be blue and mischievous behind the veil of whatever she’d shot into her system.
Even beyond the pull still humming in his blood, he hated her for doing that to herself. For bringing them both to that point. At least she’d made the choice.
Hell, she’d fucking chosen for them both. She was the reason he was in that apartment, wasn’t she?
He dragged her to the door and pressed his ear to it, listening to the raised voices down the hall. There were no more sounds of fists plowing into walls, but the volume of their discussion hadn’t lowered. If anything, the men were even louder since there were now three voices involved.
Behind Mal, the tinny music in Richelle’s headphones taunted him. That was normal life. Music, freedom, going fast. Pushing the limits—for himself, always. Because he couldn’t fucking trust anyone else.
She leaned her forehead against his back, and fuck, she was singing softly to whatever was blaring into her head. So soft it was almost a whisper. Her fingers were twined with his like warm silk over steel. That grip was so much stronger than her ethereal appearance.
Delicate outside, solid core. She won’t be broken by this. But you’re already broke, aren’t you?
He pulled open the door—carefully, so fucking carefully—and shifted to push her into the hall, caging her within the circle of his arms as if he could shield her from any possible threat. She giggled and gripped his biceps, looking up at him, eyes so vast and deep it was as if he was falling. Too far, too fast.
Deliberately, he turned his face away. It was too dark for her to make out much. Not that it mattered. He never intended to see this woman again.
He nudged her forward, more roughly than was necessary. He didn’t want to hurt her, but she was too close. Too soft and needy, and shit, he didn’t mess around with any of that anymore.
“Be careful, Mal.”
He’d learned his lesson there. Never again.
Something crashed in the living room. Fuck, it was time to go.
Mal used his boot to push the bathroom door open wider. He drew her inside and into the tub, hauling up the cracked window in one smooth move. It groaned but not enough to make him pause. He followed up with the screen before taking a quick look at the fire escape. It appeared rickety, but it should get the job done.
