Santa Wore Leathers Page 10

  Slash leaned against her, his putrid breath making her gag. “Everyone’s attention is on the fire. No one’s watching what’s going on here.” His other hand clutched her breast. “Bet I could take you right here against the car and no one would notice. ’Course my tastes run to the younger stuff. But a revenge fuck can be good, too.”

  Dear God, help me. Wolf, I need you.

  Chapter 13

  Wolf seethed with anger as he worked to contain the fire. When he’d arrived on the scene, Becca was already there, interviewing Cassie. His heart twisted when he saw his baby sister crying and his resentment toward all reporters galled. Hadn’t Cassie been through enough at the hands of the news-hungry media?

  He’d thought Becca above all that. In fact, he’d rationalized her presence by thinking she was just offering support. Then she started taking pictures of the burning building, no doubt for her newspaper. What a fool he’d been to believe in her. She was no better than any other damn reporter.

  A warning, a plea filtered into his consciousness. Help me, Wolf…I need you. He raised his head and zeroed in on Becca at her car with a man standing over her. Damn, from here it looked as if he had his hands on her. Wolf blinked. Wolf, help me! My God, he was choking her!

  Wolf depressed a button and spoke into his mouthpiece. “Tell the cops there’s a woman being accosted at her beige car at the opposite end of the mall.”

  “You sure, man?”

  “Yeah. It’s a reporter I used to date. Tell them to hurry.”

  For all his annoyance and disappointment toward Becca, he didn’t want her hurt. Every instinct screamed at him to go to her. Protect her. Kill the sonofabitch who dared put his hands on the woman he loved—loved and yet disliked. He turned back to battle the blaze, scrambling over the roof to reach another potential hotspot. He had a job to do. No matter how much the man in him wanted to protect Becca, the fireman in him had to extinguish the fire. This was how he earned his livelihood. People depended on him.

  Wasn’t being a reporter how Becca earned her income?

  Hell, she didn’t have to question Cassie while her dream burned.

  But, what of Becca’s dream? Didn’t she have a right to do what she loved, too?

  God, he hated being the ass. Of course she had a right to do whatever she desired. He cared for her, the warm woman who liked to grumble and tease. She completed him. He couldn’t describe how or why. He just knew she was the woman for him. Reporter or not, she completed his soul.

  He glanced over his shoulder. A policeman was talking to Becca. The asshole who’d touched her lay sprawled on the ground with another officer’s knee in his back. Wolf breathed a sigh of relief and returned to his task. The woman he loved was okay.

  ****

  “Miss Sinclair, I’ve arranged for an ambulance to take you to the hospital. It’s procedure to have victims of sexual assault examined. A trained counselor will speak with you.”

  She focused on the kind officer, trembling more as each second passed. “I…I don’t want to go to the hospital. I wasn’t…” she clutched her torn top to her breasts and her teeth chattered, “…I…I wasn’t raped. Just groped and scared shitless. If you hadn’t come when you did, I might not have been so lucky.”

  “You can thank your ex-boyfriend for that.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

  “Ex…ex-boyfriend?” Surely the officer had misunderstood.

  He glanced from the notes he scribbled in a notebook. “Yeah, Dan Wolford. ’Course we just call him Wolf. He saw the man attacking you and called it in. Said you were a reporter he used to date.”

  Her shaking increased. “U…used to…” Tinkling sounds filtered through her mind as her heart shattered into tiny shards. I’m a reporter he used to date.

  “Too bad you two couldn’t make a go of it. He’s a helluva nice guy. Sure does take care of his family.”

  Wolf must have seen her talking to Cassie when the ladder truck arrived. Had he thought she was interviewing his sister during her crisis? She groaned. Cassie was crying, so, of course, he assumed she was asking his sister questions, not offering support. Her shoulders slumped. Did he think so little of her?

  Now that her examination was over and the upsetting interview with the sexual-abuse crisis counselor finished, Becca waited for Brittany to come and take her home. The doctor had prescribed something for her headache. Her poor old noggin had taken a beating these last few days. First, the box of shelves fell on it and then Slash had pounded it repeatedly against the roof of her car. Still, for all that, her head had fared better than her heart.

  They were so early into their relationship and already Wolf had walked out of her life—without a proper good-bye or an attempt at explaining. She’d been a fool to let him into her life and her bed. What was wrong with her? Why did every man eventually walk away from her? Scalding tears burned paths down her cheeks, and Becca retreated inside her battered and broken soul.

  A cool hand to her cheek jarred her from her internal painful place. “Britt.” Her mouth was so dry. “I need a drink.”

  “So do I, girlfriend, after seeing your face.” Brittany handed her a cup of iced water. “Does it hurt?”

  The cool liquid soothed her damaged windpipe. “Every part of me hurts,” she rasped. “Being strangled is no fun. Doc says I’ll talk like this for a few days.”

  “You sure you’re fit to go home? I can stay the night.”

  “Not needed. I’d sooner be alone. Just get me out of this place. I’ll explain everything in the car.” She opened her arms. “I need a hug, Britt.” In the moments that followed, she realized how much she could still cry. Was there no end to the tears?

  It was nearly eight when Brittany eased her clunker to the curb in front of Becca’s. Her blue eyes narrowed and swept to Wolf’s townhouse. “His lights are on. I ought to go over there and smack him.”

  “He’s at the station, working two twenty-four-hour shifts. I think he has his lights on timers.”

  “I’ve heard a lot of stupid reasons for dumping someone, but to drop you because you’re a reporter is some sick shit.”

  Becca smiled and reached out to take Brittany’s hand. “Double-B’s.” They’d called themselves that since their junior year in high school.

  “Better and Best.” Brittany squeezed her hand. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too. Come inside. Or better still, take Einstein for a walk. I’m taking a hot bath and going to bed.”

  “I’ll make you tomato soup and a grilled cheese.”

  “You know me so well. Come on.”

  Einstein was all over her when she stepped inside. He sniffed her from head to toe, whining and licking. “Did Baby miss Mommy?” She planted a kiss on the top of his head and he slurped her right back. “What would I do without you?”

  Brittany pulled his leash from the coat closet doorknob. “Want to go for a walk, Einstein?” She pointed to Becca. “You go take a bath.”

  Becca stood at the doorway to her bedroom. The room she’d shared with Wolf last night. Rose petals littered the floor and her linens. Her purple sheets were still a tangled mess from their early-morning lovemaking. She shook her head once. No, not love. Sex. Love would involve some trust. If Wolf truly loved her, he’d have known she would never cause Cassie any harm or discomfort.

  She rushed to her bed and yanked off the sheets and blankets. At the top of the steps, she heaved them downward and then stomped down the steps to kick them to the bottom of the stairway. Because it felt so damn good, she kicked them down the hallway to the laundry closet in her kitchen.

  “Damn him. Damn him for making me fall in love. For making me feel again. And for making me hurt inside like I’ve never hurt before.” She shoved two blankets into the washer and added soap and softener. Once the machine had started, she leaned over it, hugged the appliance and bawled as she cursed the world and one particular man living in it.

  Her tantrum over, she straightened and went upstairs. She tugged her f
avorite pansy-flowered sheets from the linen closet and made up her bed. Then she scooped the dried rose petals from her floor and dumped them into her trashcan, along with the burnt candles. Anything that reminded her of Wolf went into the can—the strand of pearls, her feather pen and condom wrappers. She carried it outside to the dumpster, along with the arrangement of flowers he’d gotten her.

  When she returned, her attention snagged on the inflatable bear in her yard. With great glee, she strode over toward the bear, kicked it down and stomped on it.

  “What in H-E-double toothpicks are you doing now?”

  Becca clapped her hand over her heart. “Mrs. Minelli, you scared me.”

  Her elderly neighbor marched to Becca’s side. “Romance is over, huh? Bad in the sack was he? Let me guess, he was built like a moose and hung like a mouse.”

  “No. Not at all, and that’s all I’m sharing of my sex life. He hurt me.” She jumped on the bear decoration again and took a perverse pleasure when it popped. “This is how he stomped on my heart.”

  “Just what the world needs. Another drama queen. Maybe you ought to give up men for Bingo and water aerobics.”

  Becca snatched the destroyed decoration from her yard and tossed it onto Wolf’s front porch. “That might not be a bad idea.”

  “Darlin’, take a bit of advice from a senior citizen. People are gonna hurt you. It’s a fact of life. What you have to ask yourself is which weighs more on the scales of life? What he brings to your heart or the occasional time he mucks things up and hurts you. After all, you’re not perfect either. None of us are, but most of us are worthy of love.” She patted Becca’s arm and turned toward her townhouse. “Gotta get home to George before his Viagra pill wears off.”

  Once inside her home, she tossed her washed blankets into the dryer and pushed her sheets, smelling of roses, Wolf and sex into the washer.

  All physical traces of Wolf gone, she ran back upstairs and started her bath. She passed the mirror and stilled. Her diamond heart blinked and teased in the mirror’s reflection. His gift to her. Evidently, the necklace was more valuable than his promises.

  Her front door opened. “Becca, we’re back. Are you still awake?”

  “Yes. Just about to get in the tub. I had to put clean sheets on the bed.”

  Einstein propped his nose on the edge of the tub as she bathed. The hot water soothed her aching muscles, clearing some of the mental fog from her thinking processes. She had to admit she shouldered some of the blame for her broken heart. Hadn’t she guarded it this past year? Yet, as soon as one dark-eyed man with a lone dimple aimed a smile her way, she lowered her guard. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

  Her dog whined and rested a paw on the tub. She leaned toward him and he licked her face.

  “Looks like it’s just you and me from now on. And no more carrying my underwear next door to that man. You hear?”

  He barked twice.

  “Don’t you talk back to me.” She stood and dried off. “Do I need to rearrange my drawers?”

  He growled deep in his throat, turned and sat with his back toward her. And wasn’t that just like a man?

  Chapter 14

  Becca fumbled in her sleep to answer the phone. The sunlight glaring in her windows made her wince, and she covered her face with a pillow. “Hello?”

  “Why in hell won’t you answer your cell or return my texts?”

  At the sound of Wolf’s voice, a lump of pain formed in her chest. She opened and closed her mouth twice, willing her vocal chords to work.

  “I’ve been out of my damn mind with worry. I called the hospital, but they said you were released last night.”

  “Why? Why do you care what happened to me?”

  “You can ask me that?” His voice had that deadly quiet about it. The man was angry and she didn’t give a damn. “What’s wrong with your voice?”

  “I’ve had damage to my windpipe.” And to my sense of security and to my love-damaged heart.

  “Jesus, did that man choke you?”

  “Oh, and like you really care! Don’t pretend something you don’t feel. Look, I’m sorry you couldn’t reach me. Slash, the man who attacked me, threw my phone away. Besides, why would you want to call a ‘reporter you used to date’? I believe those were your exact words when you described me to the police.”

  Wolf cursed into the phone.

  “Don’t call me again. You lied to me, and I was dumb enough to believe you. You’ll never get beyond the fact I’m a reporter, and I’ll never trust you won’t turn your back on me again.” She ended the call and crawled out of bed. If she hurried, she could grab a cup of coffee and a donut on her way to work.

  Marshall approached her desk. “Wasn’t expecting you in today.”

  “I have a job to do. News needs reporting.” Wolf’s remarks about the lack of sincerity in reporters came back to her, and she pushed them aside.

  Marshall’s unibrow shifted. “You up to doing the piece on your attack?”

  She nodded. “I’m working on it now.” Actually, it was helping her deal with the trauma to write about it.

  “E-mail the article to me when you’re done. I’m leading with it today.” Her boss turned to leave and she grabbed this opportunity. “Marshall? The firemen in the city are doing their annual toy ride day after tomorrow. I’ll be one of the participants. Want me to take some pictures and interview a few people? Might make a good human-interest piece.”

  He nodded. “Might.”

  “It’s their twentieth year doing this.”

  A slow smile creased his wrinkled face. “You’re still after that column, aren’t you?”

  She crossed her arms. “I’ve got fourteen hundred and twelve followers. Worldwide.”

  “Yes, and my wife is one of them. She reads your blog to me every morning over breakfast.” He shook his head. “That damn Bull. I laugh like a loon every time you write about him. He must be the biggest dumbass in the whole state.”

  “Oh, Boss, you got that right.”

  ****

  Wolf was in one hellish dark mood. Not only had he doubted Becca, but thanks to his big mouth, she knew about it. He’d hurt her, which was something he’d promised her he’d never do. Now he’d have to fight like hell, possessed to win her back. What made things extra difficult was his work schedule. He was tied to this station for another twenty-one hours. Every job had its drawbacks.

  Like having to interview people at their most painful times.

  Wolf cursed and changed rags to rub over the chrome of fire truck number two. If there was one thing that pained a man more than heartburn or kidney stones or hemorrhoids, it was his conscience bugging the hell out of him when he was wrong.

  “Got a minute?” Jace stood in front of him. He’d been so lost in thought, he hadn’t heard or seen his brother approach.

  He spared him a grunt and kept on polishing the chrome.

  “How are things between you and Becca?” Jace leaned against the truck.

  Acid rolled. He was not in the mood for this. “Piss-poor, if you must know.”

  “Is that why you aren’t talking to anyone?” Jace glanced over his shoulder. “Fellas think you’re mad at them for something. They’re in there organizing the toys that’ve been donated so far and you’re out here wiping phantom dust off apparatus.”

  “I’m not in the mood for polite chitchat.” He tossed the rag aside and slipped his hands in his pockets.

  “Not even with your own brother?” Jace’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, that’s right. Your younger brother. Hell, you won’t confide in me. Never have. Not about the important stuff.”

  He scowled at Jace. The big brother wasn’t supposed to confide. He was supposed to listen, act and do whatever it took to solve family problems.

  “You’re so hung up on being the big brother and doing for us that you forget maybe we’d like to help you through life, too.” Jace sighed, as if reading Wolf’s mind. “We’re brothers, man. I should be able to offer you advice or
protect your back, but you’re too damn stubborn to lean on anyone.” Jace lifted his hands and let them fall. “Hell, no wonder you’re having problems with Becca if you won’t lean on her.”

  “Me lean on her? Hell, a man’s job is to protect his woman. I couldn’t even do that when she was being attacked.” His male pride had taken a huge beating over that. Being tied to his job when the woman he loved needed him had made him feel powerless. And he was damned mad over it all.

  “Man, you need to get over some of this sexist shit.”

  “Sexist? I’m the least sexist—”

  “Women are hellishly strong. Sure, we’re supposed to look out for them, but we have to lean on them too. Look, any human who can squeeze into a dress and skimpy panty hose and those damn high stilettos to dance backwards is no weakling.”

  Sometimes his little brother knew how to bean him between the eyes. The corners of his mouth twitched. “Man, that’s some deep shit.”

  “Honest to God, Wolf, it’s like I told Wendy Anne. I look at you sometimes and see the hamster wheel turning, but the hamster’s dead.”

  Wolf slapped a hand over his eyes and sighed. Where the hell did the kid get his logic? Still, he had to admit Jace was able to keep his wife happy; something he hadn’t been able to do with Becca. Maybe he could learn a thing or two from him after all. He clasped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “How about a soda and a long talk?”

  ****

  The following afternoon, Becca stopped partway on her outside steps. A live four-foot Christmas tree in a pot stood next to her front door. It was decorated with purple and lavender bulbs. An angel graced the top. Wide iridescent silver ribbon twisted and wrapped around the small branches. A card was nestled within the pine.

  She opened the envelope and tugged on the card. An empty doghouse was on the front with the words, “The only thing missing is me.” She sighed, struggling between the urge to open it or tear it up. Whatever Wolf wrote will only bring me pain. I can’t deal with this right now, not after all I dreamed last night.