Craving HIM (Serving HIM Vol. 7) (20 page)

“Are you mine?” I snarled the words at her and twisted my hips.

“Yes!” The word was broken by a scream as she came apart around me one more time.

She reached up, caught my face, hauled me down. I let her kiss me. Then I bit her lower lip and drove inside one more time, hard and fast. Flooding her with my cum, I closed my eyes. Mine. Mine.

But I hadn’t protected her.

And she hadn’t let me. Hadn't trusted me to do it.

***

It was past midnight and I was wide awake. Not that I expected much different after what had happened. Aleena had lain curled against me for nearly an hour before she'd drifted into sleep, but once I knew she wouldn’t wake, I’d climbed out of bed, unable to stay there as I thought about what had happened.

I wanted to kill Mitchell Pence. I wanted to kill him so badly I could practically feel his flesh giving way under my hands as I choked him. Because I didn’t trust myself not to hunt him down, I locked myself in my office and started trying to catch up on work. Anything to keep my mind off of what I wanted to do to Pence. Off of how things between Aleena and I had broken.

The first thing I saw when I logged into my email was a message from Kowalski. Clicking on it, I skimmed the message and then groaned. Shoving back from the desk, I moved back into the living area of the penthouse and started searching for my phone.

It was on the couch, half hidden under the suit jacket I had thrown off last night. Kowalski’s message was short and to the point. He had information and we needed to talk. I eyed the clock. It was too late to be making calls. Well, if one was polite.

I wasn’t feeling anywhere close to polite. My mood was almost toxic. Punching in his number, I prepared to leave a message, but he came on the line almost immediately.

“Waiting for me to call?” I asked, surprised at how normal I sounded.

“No. I’m working something for another client. How are you tonight, Mr. Snow?”

“Shitty. You said you had something…?”

“Yes.” Kowalski’s sigh was heavy and hard. “I can’t discuss it now and it’s best to do it in person. Can we meet in the morning?”

I named a time and place and he agreed, ending the call before I had a chance to press for any shred of information. Maybe I should hire him permanently and just keep him on retainer. Then he wouldn’t have to leave me hanging while he dealt with another client. I wasn't a patient person on the best of days and this was hardly the best.

Shoving the phone into my pocket, I moved over to the bank of windows and stared outside. Clouds had rolled in, obscuring much of the skyline and a heavy, sullen rain was falling. I wanted thunder. Lightning. A storm that might echo some of the hell I had inside me.

She hadn’t trusted me.

I knew Aleena wasn’t going to see it that way, but it was what had happened. I'd told her I’d handle it, but she'd gotten involved without even talking to me about it. She hadn’t trusted me to take care of things and now she was hurt. She had bruises—vicious and purplish-black—on her wrists and another one on her breast. They were the sort of bruises that came from true pain, not the sort of pain that edged over into pleasure, that fell into the dark side of ecstasy and agony, but real pain.

I knew what it was like to have those kinds of bruises. I’d had them before. And worse. The worse that could've happened to her.

“Fuck!” My shout bounced off the walls and I spun away from the window and the hazy form that was my own face. Drilling the heels of my hands into my eyes, I tried to shut out the way those marks had darkened her soft skin. Tried not to think about how easily Pence could have hurt her even more than he had.

Tried not to think about what might have happened if Vincent hadn’t gotten there when he had.

“Don’t.” I twisted my hands in my hair and yanked, hard enough to hurt. It did nothing to distract me and my brain started any ugly slide as my imagination conjured up the awful image of him violating her.

Violate—such a tidied up word for something so messy and ugly.

He would have done it, too. Pence was the kind who thought
no
meant
yes
and
please don’t hurt me
was a demand for brutality and humiliation.

“I could shake her,” I muttered.

The images wouldn’t stop, merging from what might have been to what had been.

Storming over to the bar service, I splashed some scotch into a glass and tossed it back. It didn’t do anything, so I had another and then another. Slumping against the wall, I stared at the gleaming wooden floors while screams started to echo in the back of my head.

They weren’t Aleena’s, though. They were mine.

Getting drunk in my state of mind was a bad idea, I knew, but I had to drink enough to drive away the demons. Once they were hidden away again—they were never truly gone—I forced myself to put the scotch away so I wouldn’t give in to the temptation of total oblivion. It was a dangerous mix, my mindset and a lack of self-control. If I wasn’t careful, I’d hunt the prick down and kill him.

Even though I wasn't entirely sober, I managed to focus on work and made some headway before my eyelids felt too heavy and I slumped over my desk, caught somewhere between passing out and actual sleep.

When I woke, it was morning, early enough that the sky was still pink. Everything felt surreal and heavy and I dragged myself into the guest shower without looking toward my—our—room. If I did, I’d see her, and I'd see those bruises, and that wasn't the state of mind I needed to be in today.

After a hot shower and a hurried cup of coffee, I hit the door. We could talk, I told myself as I heard her calling out my name.

But it would have to be later.

***

If I had any more coffee, my stomach lining was probably going to peel away, but I needed the caffeine. What little sleep I'd gotten hadn't been very restful. Gritty-eyed, I nodded at Kowalski as he came into the coffee shop located on the first floor of my company’s headquarters.

The gleaming silver spire was home to several other companies and a couple of small boutiques on the bottom level. More often than not, the place was crowded and this morning was no exception.

After we both got our preferred poison from the barista, I jerked my head toward the lobby. “We’re going up to my office,” I said shortly.

“That might be best,” Kowalski said neutrally, keeping pace with me despite the fact that I had almost eight inches on him. He wasn't a big man at all, skinny with a thin face and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses that made him look more like an accountant than a former cop. Still, there was something about him that said he wasn't someone to be trifled with.

I liked him.

I led him to the elevator reserved exclusively for my use and we stepped inside without speaking. I punched in my code and it swept us up to the top floor while Kowalski made small talk. I didn’t respond, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Once we were inside my office, I shut and locked the door. It was so early that Amber wasn’t in yet. It wasn’t unusual for me to come in early. It wasn’t happening as much lately. Instead of losing myself in work, I lost myself in Aleena and considered it the better option. My heart twisted at the thought of her and I pushed her away. I wasn't ready to deal with that just yet.

Kowalski settled in a chair in front of my desk while I sat down behind it.

“I’ve got good news for you.” Kowalski smiled at me before he took one more sip from his coffee and then put it down so he could dig through his briefcase. As I waited, he pulled out a thin file folder and handed it to me.

I flipped it open and found myself staring at one of the young women who came in to clean the penthouse. I couldn’t remember her name, but I knew her face. She was pretty and wide-eyed and had an innocent look to her. Innocence always hit me wrong and for some reason, I remembered it far longer than its counterpart.

She had a kid, I remembered suddenly. I could remember Fawna buying her gifts every year for a while now and insisting I sign a card.

Closing my eyes, I muttered, “Fuck.” I didn’t read the report. I would later, but for now, I wanted answers from the man who’d just dropped this bombshell on me. “What did she do?”

“I will be blunt, Mr. Snow and tell you that poor girl probably didn’t stand a chance against Ms. Rittenour.” He pursed his lips and took another drink of coffee. “It would seem you’re not the only one who utilized the services of a professional.” He nodded at the file. “Ms. Rittenour had her investigated and found some things that made it easy to convince Erika to help. Erika was too afraid to not give Penelope what she wanted.”

“She doesn't exactly look like the hardened criminal type. Just what could she have done that would make her that willing to screw me over?”

I could see the card Fawna had shoved at me, the memory coming clearer as he mentioned her name.

Erika. A child. Bad boyfriend—I knew that because somehow Fawna had always been able to get such information from people and she’d passed it on to me. She knew how I felt about abusive shits like that.

“Aw, hell…” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Does this have anything to do with the CPS case a few months back?”

Child protective services had investigated Erika after she had to take her daughter—now four—into the emergency room. She’d walked in and found her boyfriend touching the child.

The bastard was in jail right now, waiting for his upcoming trial. I remembered Fawna telling me she'd called a couple of my judge friends to pull a few strings and make sure he couldn't make bail.

“I take it you're familiar with what happened with Erika’s former boyfriend.”

I glanced up at Kowalski, my lip curling. “You could say that.”

“Had I been her, I would have killed the bastard.” Kowalski delivered the words calmly, with that same faint, professional smile on his face. Then he took the image from the top of the neat stack of pages. “Penelope found out. I don’t know how since it involved a minor.”

“Penelope is good at digging in the dirt,” I said, disgustedly.

I looked down at the next image and closed my eyes. It was Erika again, this time with her daughter. They were coming out of a brick building and my eyes strayed to the sign.

“You followed her to her therapist?” I asked.

“I've been watching her.” Kowalski offered me nothing else.

Blowing out a breath through my teeth, I studied the two in the photo, the little girl smiling bright and easy while her mother smiled back. Erika's smile was strained around the edge. “She didn’t do anything that could cause her problems with CPS. She kicked him out, called the police, took the kid to the doctor. She did everything right.”

“Ms. Rittenour gave the impression that she had friends in social services. Friends who were already concerned about the awful things Erika had allowed to happen.”

I jerked my head up, staring at him. I'd known Penelope was a bitch, but to blackmail a woman with having her child taken away...that was low, even for her.

“That’s what Erika told me.” He looked away. “Your Ms. Rittenour tied her into knots.” He looked at the picture he held for another long moment and then placed it face down on my desk. “I’ve watched them. Erika's a good mother, loves the little girl, worries about her. She was an easy target for the right sort of manipulation.”

“She could have come to me.” I clenched my jaw until my teeth started to grind together and I had to force myself to relax it. “Dammit, why didn’t she come to me?”

Kowalski didn’t have an answer for me.

Really, though I didn’t need one. Penelope was a master manipulator. Nobody knew that better than I did. I had watched her twist so many people around her finger and she’d tried those same machinations on me. And I couldn't deny that I didn't always seem like the easiest person to talk to, particularly if that person was used to men hitting and hurting.

“What are you going to do?” Kowalski’s question wasn’t directed toward anything having to do with Penelope, I could tell by the concern in his eyes.

I rubbed the back of my neck. “I honestly don’t know right now.” Flipping the file closed, I braced my elbows on the edge of my desk. “Give me something on Penelope.”

“Ms. Rittenour paid her.” Kowalski made the simple statement in a matter of fact tone as he picked up the file I’d discarded. He flipped through it although I suspected he had the contents memorized. “At first, Erika told her no. But then came threats about the incident, about Erika’s ability to provide and protect the little girl. All designed, of course, to keep Erika from talking since taking the money made her look even more guilty.” He tapped the file with his finger. “I have everything you need here. Erika gave me all the information, times and meeting places. Also, Ms. Rittenour called her, at home and via her cell. She kept documentation of all of it and has agreed to let us have her phone records as well. She’s willing to talk to the police about what happened, and testify if needed.”

My initial instinct was to fire her. She'd betrayed me. Lied. Invaded my privacy, Aleena's privacy. No one would think badly of me if I called her right now and told her she was through.

I already knew I wouldn’t.