The Best Laid Plans (19 page)

God she looked hot wearing a light sleeveless blouse and a charcoal knee length skirt that made her resemble a naughty librarian. She held her phone to her ear, paced back and forth up the first couple feet of the dark sidewalk he stood on. Her voice was raised to make it over the music spilling from the pub as people came and went – judging by the fluctuations in its volume.

“Not sure why you’re so late, but I hope you’re on your way. There’s a swarm of guys hanging around, wondering why I’m alone.” Her tone teased, light-heartedly. But he knew she must be being hounded inside. “See you soon, babe.”

She’d never called him ‘babe’ before.

She thumbed the screen, and leaned against the building with her back to him, rooting through her purse for something. She hadn’t seen him. He could wait for her to go back into the pub, give it a couple minutes, then catch a cab home. And deal with all of this tomorrow.

She was so beautiful. He had to stop himself from walking up behind her and swallowing her body with his in a huge embrace. But it would be better this way. She’d know everything and could choose for herself.

“There you are.”

Malcolm heard the guy’s voice before he came into sight, skulking around the corner toward Jayne.

“Do I know you?” she asked without enthusiasm.

“Don’t be like that.” He stepped closer. “We were both there. No one met you. It’s okay to admit you’re alone.”

“Actually, I’m not alone. And I’m not interested.” She moved to step around him. He blocked her with his body, and Malcolm’s blood pressure skyrocketed.

“Actually, I’m more interested in your purse. Birkin, right?”

“Fuck off!” Jayne exclaimed, trying to step around him again.

Malcolm stepped forward, too late. He saw the glint of the blade, and the man slammed Jayne against the wall by her throat.

***

Jayne had only left to call Malcolm, half hoping he’d show up as she called. She’d hoped it was Malcolm she heard approach her, but instead it was the curly-haired asshole who’d sat at her table and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

The asshole who squeezed her throat hard enough to make sparks appear in her vision. She clawed at his hands, but he didn’t seem to feel it. His eyes burned with hatred. What had she done?

He was so strong. She choked, thrusting her purse at him, hoping through the panic and oxygen deprivation that he’d just take it and go.

Instead, he pressed up against her, hot breath reeking of rye and coke. She tried to thrash away from him, to kick him anywhere, but his weight pinned her to the wall. The building’s stucco scratched her back as he ground against her harder.

He reached down between them, and horrified, she followed the movement with her eyes, rasping in half a breath before he tightened the grip on her neck.

 And that’s when she saw the knife.

She couldn’t even draw a breath to scream.

The band played on, a popular one hit wonder song from the nineties.
This is it. This will be the soundtrack to my rape and murder.

 The cruel grip tore from her throat so suddenly she fell to her knees hard, choking in deep breaths that felt like they cut her throat on the way to her lungs. She rubbed her throat and scrambled to her feet to get away from her attacker, now being attacked by the guy on top of him.

Jayne ran around the corner, ran into the pub and grabbed the first security guard she saw.

“Please,” she rasped. “A guy attacked me around the corner. Someone stopped him, but he might need help! Call the cops!”

Shit!

“He has a knife!” she added over her shoulder.

The security guard jumped to his feet and said something into a walkie-talkie, but Jayne was already heading back outside and around the corner. Maybe she couldn’t beat the asshole in a fight, but she could make damned sure he didn’t get away before the police came. And her rescuer might need help – he may not have seen the knife and she’d just left him!

Rounding the corner, she was relieved to see her rescuer still doing alright. In fact, he did better than alright. He’d knocked her attacker out and had used his belt as shackles so he couldn’t run away if he got up.

“Can I help? Are you okay?” Her voice shook as adrenaline started to dissipate, letting panic seep in.

He stood and turned, and her knees almost gave out.
“Malcolm?”

He reached for her as she rushed forward, more scared now that she knew it had been Malcolm the guy could have hurt with his knife.

“Step away from the lady!” Three security guards flowed around the corner and in between them, heading for Malcolm.

“No!” Jayne exclaimed, her voice sounding like a strangled goose. “He’s the one who saved me!”

“You’re sure?”

She nodded and they shifted their attention to the guy on the ground.

“Where’s the knife?” The head security guard looked at Malcolm. “She said he had one.”

Malcolm nodded and pointed up the walk. “I kicked it up there away from him after I disarmed him.”

“We’ve got it from here,” one of the other guys said. “Police have been called and are on their way.” Malcolm nodded and took Jayne in his arms.

He stroked her hair and back, and she felt herself crashing and burning beneath his gentle touch. “I’m so sorry I’m late.” Regret and anger laced his voice.

“I’d say you were just in time.” Levity failed, but she meant it. If he hadn’t come when he had …

She shivered, feeling the man’s hand around her throat again, brushed her neck with her hand.

Malcolm moved her over to the light, pushed back to look at her. “Your throat is really red. It’s probably going to bruise. We should get you some ice.”

“I’m fine,” she said.

“Jayne!”

“Maybe something cold to drink then instead?” Something in his eyes made her accept the drink. But … “I can’t go back in there. It’s too loud, too much.”

“I’m not leaving you alone.” His eyes were stormy.

“I’ll be—” Her argument was stopped by the arrival of the police. Jayne motioned at Malcolm to go get her a drink. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Had happened. He returned with something sweet with a hint of an alcohol burn in it while she finished her statement to the cops, and yes she did want to press charges, thank you very much.

Malcolm wrapped his jacket around her shoulders, thinking she was cold. But it wasn’t temperature that made her body quiver. Fear and relief gripped her body and mind, shorting out her nerves. If that man had gone any further – but he hadn’t.

If Malcolm hadn’t been there in time to stop him – but he had.

If Malcolm had been hurt – but he was fine.

Of course he was fine. He was strong. He could fight.

He wasn’t so easy to overpower as she was. He wasn’t a target like she was. Weak. Pathetic. Anyone could take anything they wanted from her, and she couldn’t do anything about it.

At that moment, Jayne hated being a woman so intensely it made her stomach clench.

The cab ride back to Malcolm’s apartment had been a long one. Jayne sat curled into a ball beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. He held her close, covered her with his jacket. Keeping his hand gentle, he stroked her hair when what he wanted to do was go back to the bar, hunt that fucker down and snuff out his miserable existence. The punches he got in, and knowing he’d broken at least one of his fingers when taking the knife from him, weren’t enough; oh how he wished he’d made the bastard bleed out. Restraining himself against that asshole suddenly felt like the biggest mistake of his life.

But going back to the bar wouldn’t fix anything. The police had the attacker now. Malcolm unclenched his fist and breathed deeply to lessen the pounding in his head. He held Jayne safe in his arms. The attack at the bar was miles behind them. But distance from the scene of the crime made no difference. A chasm formed in his heart, filled with anger and regret. He should have stepped forward as soon as he saw that asshole walk up to her. But he’d held back. And this was the result.

He unlocked the door, not knowing how they’d gotten upstairs, so wrapped up in his inner turmoil that he’d lost the last few minutes. Jayne stood behind him and that was the only part that mattered. Opening the door, he gestured her in first. He kicked off his boots and slammed the deadbolt shut, fussing with the chain. Anything to not look at Jayne. To not see how he’d fucked up by almost standing her up.

How could he have been so stupid? If he’d truly stood her up – and he almost had – anything could have happened to Jayne. Instead of being scared and roughed up, she could have been raped, or stabbed. Maybe killed. His heart stuttered in his chest. And it would have been his fault because she’d been relying on him to be there. What happened to her tonight was all his fault.

And he couldn’t even look her in the eyes.

Daring to look up, she wasn’t glaring at him like he half expected. She wasn’t looking at him at all. God she looked small and fragile standing in front of his balcony, looking out the window, with the city’s lights shining through her hair. She hugged herself tightly; hell knew what visions were going through her head.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He hated the tremor in his voice. He was supposed to be the strong one right now so she could lean on him.

She shook her head and shivered. “Even thinking about it makes me feel weak.”

Completely his fault.

“I am so sorry, Jayne.” His hands tentatively found her shoulders, brushed her arms trying to soothe her. She leaned into him.

“For what?” Bewilderment tinged her voice.

“I wasn’t there. If I’d been—”

“You were there, Malcolm.”

“But he could have hurt you worse than he did. And it would have been my fault!”

She elbowed his ribs, not hard enough to hurt, but sharply enough to get his attention. “You saved me. You were there for me when I needed you the most. I hate that I needed protecting at all, but you came through. You stopped him from … ” she trailed off, clutching his hand, pressing it tighter to her shoulder. “It’s over. You made it okay.” Her voice pleaded for something. “Make me okay.”

And he needed her to be okay. He needed her to be safe. He needed her. Desire, savage and complete, slammed into him.

He spun her roughly around, kissed her trembling lips, and leaned forward, pressing her back to the wall. She stood there safe, and alive, but anything could have happened. She could have been taken away from him forever. The thought of her being gone strangled his heart in his chest. Jayne wrapped her arms around him, pulled him closer with a gasp. A small hop and her thighs were around his hips, squeezing him hard, not hard enough. His hands danced wildly across her skin, hers pulled him closer to her. He needed her heat, needed to feel the life burning inside of her.

It was all happening too quickly, too fiercely intense. Maybe she needed him to be gentle right now. But he couldn’t stop.

Neither could she.

Nails gouged him in her haste to claw his shirt off, and paw at his belt. She moaned when he tore open her blouse, buttons flying, fabric tearing.

“Malcolm.”

She said his name like he was already inside her. He couldn’t breathe for wanting her. His hands slid up her thighs, under her skirt. He almost lost it when he felt no fabric. Just warm silky skin, and an impossibly wet Jayne. Had she been like this earlier when they’d been out? When that asshole had—

He slammed a fist into the wall beside her, kissing and biting at her neck as she curled rough fingers through his hair, pulling it hard. She was so hot and intense and alive. But what if he hadn’t shown up? What if that creep had taken it further, not just mugging her, but—

She unbuttoned his pants and took him in her hand.

***

Jayne needed him to fuck her to prove she was okay. To show her he thought she was strong. Tenderness would undo her. If he made love to her right now it would mean she was fragile, and vulnerable.

And she’d shatter in his arms, leaving him with the fragments of a woman.

He moved like an animal, powerful, strong beneath her, devouring her with his mouth and hands. He claimed her in the best way imaginable – in just the way she needed him to. Whether or not he knew, his reaction was perfect, allowing her to feel strong and safe in his arms. She needed him now, took him in her hands, felt every inch of his desire. Maybe her senses were sharper from adrenaline, but he seemed bigger. Even his balls were completely hard.

His groan was more of a growl as his lips found hers once more, teeth nipping at her tongue. His hips drove her back into the wall as he lifted her higher and entered her with one savage thrust. She clung tighter to him, kneading his back, urging his movements faster, harder. She wanted him to fuck her through the wall, to bruise her back, to bruise her lips with his.

She wanted to ache from him, only him. By choice. She needed him to erase the memory of the bad pain and replace it with something good.

And he was. Slamming into her with everything he had, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe, but she needed more. Pleasure unwound from deep in her belly, sending warmth through her limbs. Malcolm turned them around, and laid her on the floor, not pausing his movements. He moved her like she was weightless.