Him.
She thought I was one of Teddy’s men. Immediately. Not a random thug—histhug.
That’s telling as hell.
I stare into her tear-streaked face. Fight the urge to brush the tears away. To pull her against my chest and swear no one will ever hurt her again.
One thought burns through everything else.
What the fuck did that Teddy asshole do to her?
2
Claire
There is a tall, tattooed man standing in my apartment and pinning me to the wall.
I try to repeat that thought in my head to see if it’ll make any more sense the second time around. It doesn’t.
There continues to be a six-foot muscular man with tattoos up and down his arms standing in front of me, and it continues to be an absolutely wild prospect.
The look on his face is serious, his dark brows slashes over his eyes that pinch inward. I have no idea what this man is thinking, and I still don’t know if I can trust him.
It seems way more likely that he was sent here by Theodore because I tried to talk, because I wanted to bring up what he did to me to the authorities.
Not that it did me any good, of course. Turns out when you’re a wealthy politician, you have a lot of sway with the local cops. Lodging a complaint against one isn’t likely to get far.
Still, I’ll hand it to the guy in front of me. He hasn’t hurt me, aside from the fact that I fell on my ass when he shoved at the door.
But right now, he’s staring me down like I need to make sense of this for him, and I don’t know how to do that.
“Tell me one thing, Claire.”
My spine goes stiff at the sound of my name.How does he know it?
“How do you know Theodore? What happened?”
This guy is asking me for the truth. Someone who clearly knows Mr. McDowell just like I do. But he’s giving me a chance.
Do I say something? How can I be sure that this guy even cares that some stupid horny politician hired me to dance for him and then got way too handsy?
My throat feels sticky, and I force myself to swallow as I tremble beneath this man. He’s so massive and imposing.
But even if I were blind, I’d be able to tell that he’s also one of the most gorgeous people on the face of the planet.
What is my luck that I get pinned to a wall by someone who is both stunning and extremely scary?
Blinking several times, I reach up to wipe the tear I can feel dripping down my cheek. The guy watches my hand move, eyeing it carefully.
It takes several swallows before I’m able to get a word out.
“I have to imagine that you’re here because he sent you to scare me, and you know it’s working. So, what happened? Well, yourboss got frisky with me, and I don’t think he loves that I tried to tell someone about it.”
I keep my story a little vague. I’m not interested in telling a stranger the juicy details about how a wealthy politician running for reelection tried to assault me on his ridiculously expensive yacht.
What’s worse is the fact that I’ve said it out loud to someone who isn’t a member of the police department for the first time. Hearing the words makes nausea crawl up the back of my throat.
I’m trembling and the tears are prickling again, and somehow I’m settling on the smell of this man’s cologne, drawn in by it. Something woodsy and warm. It doesn’t match how dangerous he looks.
