Head On (Strength And Love)(7)

I swallow, hard. “I can go to the police. Tomorrow.”

He shakes his head, impatient. “One, they won’t do anything. They might, maybe, look into whether someone hacked your computer. Two, even if they did do something, they aren’t going to post someone on your house. This isn’t the movies. The police are overstretched, and they aren’t going to do anything about a possible future crime. Not with the scant evidence we have about this. Three, I go with you, I incriminate myself, and this sort of shit is the kind of thing some cop will sell to the papers. I don’t want to be in the media telling the world what I do, and I doubt you want this made public either?”

I bite my lip and his gaze lands there for a moment. Despite the dim light of the room and not being able to see his eyes too clearly, for a moment, I fancy I can feel a hunger in him. It should terrify me, but it gives me a dark thrill. A stupid, dangerous, dark thrill. I must be crazy to have any feelings towards this man, other than disgust and anger. He has sex for a living. Ugh, imagine how many women he’s been with. The thought makes me shudder. It also makes be a bit excited. Yep. I’m definitely stupid. And possibly sex starved. Being a twenty-one-year-old virgin will do that for you.

“If you come with me, I can keep you safe.”

I roll my eyes. “So you say, but how do I know you won’t get me to your lair and have your wicked way with me.”

He laughs then, a proper guffaw.

“You crack me up. My lair.” He sobers and scrubs a hand over his jaw. “Look, if I’d wanted to have my way with you, I could do it here. No offence but you’re small, and you’re in bed, defenceless. If I wanted to, I could do what I liked to you here. And let’s be brutally honest, I have the perfect alibi. Emails requesting it, and bank transfers for God’s sake. I’ve no need to get you to come to my house. I don’t want to do anything to you. I don’t want women who aren’t into me. And, you’re not my type anyway. I’m not into the Victorian ghost look.”

He indicates my high necked, cotton nightdress and I feel my face warm. I wear this because it’s comfortable.

I think about what he’s saying. It makes sense. I’m not going to be safe here. There’s no one I can call. Not who can get here quickly anyway. If this man wanted to hurt me, he could have, he’s right there. All big and imposing, and angry. Yeah, if he wanted to harm me, I’d have no defence at all.

“I used to be in the military. Special forces.” His voice is calm, serious. “I’m trained to fight, and trained to protect. I won’t hurt you. I fucking swear it. If it will make you feel more comfortable, I can call my sister and get her to come stay with us. I don’t mind at all if it will make you feel better. I understand you being nervous to go somewhere with a guy who’s broken into your home. But I can’t go home and leave you here. I wish I could. I don’t need this shit. But I can’t. Something happens to you and it’ll be on my conscience.”

I consider his offer. “You’ll call your sister?” I’d feel much better with another woman there.

He nods and takes out his phone again. “I’ll do it now.” He dials a number and I hear a woman answer on the other end.

“Sis, it’s me. Got a massive favour to ask. Can you come over for the night? I know it’s late and Katie will be asleep, but bundle her up and come on over, will you?”

I hear grumpy sounding mutterings and he sighs. “It’s a long story, but there’s a woman…a client, and I’m bringing her back with me. She’s been…traumatised. I think another female in the house will make her more comfortable.”

I clearly hear the okay she gives in reply.

“Who is Katie?” I ask as he hangs up.

“My niece. Five going on fifty. She’s a real character.”

I smile at the pride in his voice, then my brain tells me to stop being stupid. This could all be a trick, and the woman his partner or something. Like a serial killing Bonnie and Clyde. “How do I know you and your supposed sister aren’t in this together?”

He scratches his cheek, and I can almost taste his impatience, but he tampers it down yet again. “You got the internet on your phone?”

I nod.

“Okay. Look up Ann Kilbride. There will be some articles come up. Her husband died in a hit and run.”

I gasp. “Oh, my God.”

“Yeah. So, look her up. The local paper has a picture of their wedding day. I’m in the picture, you’ll see me with her. My name is there. You can verify it.”

He reaches toward me and I still as his hand brushes my shoulder. There’s a click and my other bedside lamp comes on, the one with the bright bulb in it.

Light floods the space between us, and I view his face clearly for the first time.

My God, he’s stunning. Really gorgeous. No wonder women pay him for sex. He looks like a model, but one who has been in a fight or something. His nose isn’t perfectly straight, there’s a scar on his chin, and his hair is messy, and not in that artfully styled way a lot of men wear. A few days worth of scruff only serves to make him look hotter. He’s an insane mash up of pretty and rugged, rough and sexy. I don’t ever think I’ve seen a more attractive man, unless we’re counting that guy from Game of Thrones, the big one I’ve had an insane crush on for the last few years.