Rock Hard (Rock Kiss #2)(95)

“Want me to go grab it? It’ll only take a few minutes.” Gabriel held the elevator open. “Go on up and get into something slinky.” He leaned in close to whisper, “I vote for the tiny black thing that’s all straps and skin.”

Blushing, she crooked a finger. “We don’t really need milk.”

He chuckled. “You’re not human until your first latte. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting.” Blowing him a kiss, she pressed the button for the penthouse after swiping the keycard.

She had a smile on her face when she exited onto the penthouse floor, but she’d only taken five steps when her blood ran cold. “How did you get up here?” she said to the handsome blond man standing by the apartment door. His face was older, meaner, and he had a new scar across his cheek, but there was no mistaking Richard.





36


TAKING OUT THE TRASH





“I WAS WAITING FOR you,” Richard said with a flawless smile, leaning his body against the wall. “We have something to talk about.”

“We have nothing to talk about.” Charlotte’s heart thudded in her throat, her rage a roar beneath the skin. “Get out.”

“You bitch.” Richard’s mask fell off far faster than it had the first time. “I spent years in prison because of you, and you can’t give me five minutes?”

“You spent that time in prison because of what you did.”

“Only because you made me,” he retorted. “If you’d been a real woman—”

“I’m not the one with inadequacy issues.” Charlotte would not back down, would not run. She was no longer prey—and she was no longer vulnerable. “I’m with a real man now, and guess what? He doesn’t need to hurt a woman to feel good about himself.”

“Some stupid rugby player.” He sneered. “I guess a dumb whore like you would want a dumb boyfriend.”

“You’re a pathetic loser who doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as Gabriel.” She curled her fingers around the strap of her handbag. “I have nothing more to say to you. You aren’t worth the time.”

“Oh, we’ll talk,” he hissed, launching himself at her. “You’ll crawl before I’m done with you.”

His hand went for her throat, but hell no, he was not holding her there. That was Gabriel’s right and his right only. Swinging her handbag, she slammed it against the side of Richard’s head. He staggered; she kicked him between the legs. Then she gave him a second hard whack just as the elevator doors opened behind her.

The next thing she heard was a roar of sound, and then Richard was flying back to slam into the wall, his nose crooked and gushing blood. Gabriel’s second punch took him to the floor, the knife in Richard’s hand dropping soundlessly to the carpet.

The third punch cracked bones in Richard’s face.

The fourth punch smashed out several of Richard’s teeth and turned off his lights.

It all happened so fast that she barely had time to blink before Gabriel was turning to her.

“Did he touch you?” It was a ferociously quiet question.

“No.” Deeply conscious that he was on a razor-thin edge, but not the least afraid he’d turn his anger on her, she went into his arms. “I whacked him with my handbag—it came in useful, see?”

He didn’t laugh, just crushed her against his chest. Breath harsh and pulse thumping, he held her for long minutes, his muscles vibrating against hers. She held him back, knowing her presence was all that was keeping him from beating Richard to a pulp. Not about to let Gabriel go to jail for a psychopath like Richard, she stroked his back until he got himself under enough control to say, “Call Detective Lee. I’ll keep an eye on the trash.”




THE DETECTIVE LAUGHED AT a newly conscious Richard’s snuffling, barely understandable accusations of assault against Gabriel. “He was protecting a woman against a psychopath armed with a knife. The psychopath would be you.” A grin that bared very sharp teeth as she put the knife in an evidence bag and held it in front of Richard’s face. “Mr. Bishop only used his fists. No prosecutor will ever touch him.”

Charging Richard then and there, she snapped the cuffs on him even as the paramedics lifted him onto a gurney for transport to the hospital. Gabriel had broken Richard’s face worse than Charlotte had initially realized—Richard would never again be as pretty, would wear his ugliness for the world to see. That seemed fitting. People should have a warning of his kind of evil.

“The fact he came after you so soon after his release is a significant aggravating factor,” Detective Lee said. “Hopefully we’ll get a judge who’ll throw the book at him this time.”

Charlotte hoped that too. She could handle Richard now, of that she was certain, but she hated the effect the attack had on Gabriel.

“Hey,” she said in bed that night, rising up on her elbow to look down at him. “You’re still furious. I can feel it.”

“Of course I’m furious. If I hadn’t forgotten you had my wallet and come back up, he would’ve had you alone.”

“I was doing a good job of beating him up,” she pointed out. “Richard expected me to be who I was, not who I am.”