Protection: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance (8 page)

“
J
esus
,” I whine as I climb off the treadmill. “Eight cities in twelve days. Ten miles on the treadmill on off days. This is absolute murder.”

“The indefatigable Elly Parsons is actually admitting to being tired?” Karen says. “Hey, at least you have two days in the same city right now. And the night off. Can’t beat that with a stick.”

Here’s something I’ve found out: Karen is fucking
awesome
.

She stretches, cooling herself off after the workout. I’m glad to see that she’s in the
Elle Does Athletics
gear I practically had to force her to accept as a gift. When I found out that Karen is as big of a workout fiend as I am, I sort of co-opted her as my gym partner. It makes sense when you look at how insanely buff she is; Karen gives Serena Williams a run for her damn money.

“I’m human,” I say with a shrug. “I could definitely use some Vitamin C and B12. We have six more months of touring still. It’s hard to believe we’re going to do such a long tour.”

“Well, we’re going to try,” Karen says with her trademark shrug. She sniffs her shirt and grimaces. “I need to shower.”

“You just can’t wait to get out of the Elle gym clothes because they’re too girly for you,” I accuse.

She gives me a blank look, her trademark reaction.

“I mean, they fit great, but I just
hate
pink. Anyway, if you get any closer, you’ll find out that I am not even close to lying about how bad I smell right now.”

“Ugh. Thanks for sharing. I’m going to do the same, and then veg until someone forces me to leave for the next city.”

“Sounds good.”

“Who’s on tonight? Lawrence?” I ask, trying to calculate their schedule in my head. Karen, Bill, and Lawrence alternate nights standing outside the door and Bill was on last night. We hit the lobby, both stretching as we wait for the elevators.

Connor doesn’t work those shifts anymore. He does… well, I’m not really sure. I guess he’s around during shows, mostly.

Pulling out the big guns for the most public events
, is how I reason it to myself.

Not that I’m thinking of Connor. I’m
wayyyyy
too busy to be doing that.

“Nope. Connor’s your man, for tonight anyway.”

I give Karen serious side eye, and she laughs.

“I thought you guys made up?” she asks.

“We did.”

“Well, it seems like you’re still avoiding each other—” she cuts herself off abruptly.

I turn to see Connor striding up to us. He nods to Karen, giving me an expression of studied indifference. It’s weird, because I can kind of
see
that he’s working super hard to ice me out.

Weird
.
I guess I’m getting to know him better, learning to read him.

I could kick myself for that thought.
Quit trying to create intimacy where there is none,
I scold myself.
You really need to work on your daddy issues.

I smirk to myself.
I’m funny, people just don’t know it.

“I’m off until tomorrow,” Karen says.

“You catching the elevator with us?” I ask, confused. “Aren’t we all going the same direction?”

“Nope,” Karen says, turning and heading for the stairs without further explanation.

I step into the elevator with Connor right on my heels.

I hope I don’t smell. I mean, I definitely do. I hope
he
can’t smell me. You know, because I’m a high school girl again, complete with the unreciprocated crush.

Neither of us says anything all the way upstairs. Connor lets me lead the way. When we get to my floor, a door slams at the far end of the hall.

“Go ahead,” he says with a frown. “I just want to stick my head into the stairwell really quick.”

He looks like something’s bothering him more than usual, but it’s hard to tell with Connor. He’s
always
intense and paranoid, as far as I’ve seen.

I shrug and swipe my keycard. It gives an angry beep and flashes red.

“Damn it,” I mutter. I try it two more times, with the same result. Then I jiggle the door handle. After a second, the lock flashes green and opens. “Stupid door.”

When I step in, it’s dark. Like completely, totally dark.

“Why is it dark?” comes out of my mouth, the dumbest question ever.
Whatever, I’m the only one that can hear myself.

I flip the lights on and head to change and wash off the fresh layer of post-workout grime. I make it one step into my bedroom, turn the lights on, and freeze.

A scream escapes me, louder than I thought possible.

“Connor!
Connor!
”

My hotel bedroom is completely trashed. My eyes rove over the damage; the mattress has been slashed to pieces, feathers from the pillows are everywhere. My clothes are strewn all over the room, tattered and ripped up.

I wish I didn’t see that my suitcase of intimates, bras and panties, is basically empty. They’re not in the room, which means…
God, he took them with him.

My stomach rolls, and I wonder if I’m going to be sick.
He’s been here, touching my stuff…

The paintings have been ripped off the wall to make room for a sickening scrawl of black spray paint.

WHORE
is there in big letters, at the top.

How could you????
is written under that.

Between the two there’s a collage of photographs.

I stumble forward to look at them. Behind me, I hear the front door open with a slam as Connor comes running.

“Elly?” he shouts. “Elly, are you okay?”

Close up, I see the photos are me and Connor. A collection of grainy black and white photos taken of us getting out of one of the rental SUVs.

No no no…
is all I can think.
This can’t be happening.

I reach out to touch the monstrous display with shaking fingers, but Connor stops me.

“Jesus,” he says, grabbing me by the elbow, yanking me back a step.

“He was here,” I whisper, closing my eyes against the fact.

“Fuck,” Connor says. His arms close around me, holding me so very tightly as tears start to fall. I can barely process it. “Shhh, it’s okay. I got you.”

He guides me out of the bedroom, one arm staying around my shoulders while he pulls out his phone. He calls Karen and asks her to bring ‘everyone’, then calls the cops.

I think about my panties again, and fear squeezes me so tight I’m afraid I’m dying.

“My chest,” I say, looking up at Connor. “I can’t breathe.”

“Okay,” Connor says. “I got you, Elly. I swear. No one’s going to touch you, ever. I won’t let that happen.”

He picks me up then, his touch so gentle that it makes me cry. He carries me out of the suite as if I weigh nothing at all, glancing down at me every few seconds. The stress and worry on his face make me feel worse, but the strength and warmth of him is nice.

I let my head fall against his chest, unresisting, and close my eyes again.

Take me anywhere. Anywhere but here
, I think.

In that moment, I know I don’t have to say it aloud. There’s an unquestionable kind of safety here, while Connor’s holding me; I know that he won’t let my stalker touch me unless Connor’s already dead.

Strangely, I find that thought reassuring.
Fucked up, Elly
.

Connor takes me to the elevator and down to the staff floor.

“BRAD! GISELLA!” His shout makes me jump, and he hugs me tighter for a second.
A kind of apology
, I think.

Doors start to open as Connor hurtles down the hall with me in his arms. I see Brad’s startled face as Connor carries me into a single hotel room.

“I’m gonna put you down now, honey,” Connor tells me gently. “I’m not going farther than the doorway, I promise.”

He sits me on the edge of an unmade bed, and I watch as he stalks over and grabs Brad by the collar of his t-shirt. I realize, in a funny flash, that I’ve never seen Brad in his t-shirt and PJs before. It’s strangely comical.

“Do not move from her sight,” Connor snarls, giving Brad a shake. “And don’t fucking talk to her either, unless she speaks first.”

“Uh—” Brad says, but Connor’s not interested in his response.

“I will be right here, on the other side of the door,” Connor reminds me.

He slams the door shut behind him, leaving me alone with a very startled-looking Brad. I look at Brad, he looks at me. I can see the questions whirling through his mind, but he just sinks into a chair and stays silent.

Thank you for that, Connor. I can’t talk about… it… yet.

Through the door, I can hear Connor literally
screaming
commands. I smother a laugh as I imagine everyone outside running around like terrified ants; it takes my mind off things for a second.

Then I realize how badly I’m shaking. I’m
cold
.

“I don’t care what you have to do. Get. Artisan. Here. Right
now
!” Connor bellows.

The door slams open and I jump again. I rub my eyes and realize I’m still crying. Or my face is damp, at least.

“For fuck’s sake,” Connor says when he sees me. He looks so angry, it’s really starting to freak me out.

When he comes over and sits down next to me, I pull back a little, flinching.

“Brad, get out,” Connor says.

Brad swallows and practically flees for the door.

“Hey,” he says, running his knuckles over the back of my hand.

“Hey,” I say.

“You know that I’d never let anyone hurt you, right?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I nod.
I do know that much
.

“I’m so sorry that I let this happen, Elly. I thought—” he stops, frustrated, and shakes his head. “It won’t happen again.
Fuck
.”

“You don’t… you can’t control someone else,” I venture.

The flash of disagreement is plain in Connor’s impossibly green eyes, but he doesn’t go there.

“Would you rather have Karen stay with you right now?” he asks, taking me by surprise.

“No,” I say instantly. “No. I want you.”

He sighs and wraps an arm around me again, drawing me close.

“Fuck, you’re shaking,” he says. His voice sounds stressed to the point of breaking.

“I’m chilly,” I admit.

“God damn it,” he says, to himself it sounds like. “You might be in a little bit of shock, honey. Let’s…” he pauses, thinking for a moment. “You can stay in my room tonight. I’ll take the couch.”

“Okay,” I say. I’d agree to pretty much anything at this point. Connor’s the only stable thing in my universe at this moment, and I’m happy enough to cling to him until the world rights itself again.

“Come on,” he says, pulling me to my feet. “Or do you want me to carry you?”

I give a humorless laugh.

“No, I can make it,” I say.

Connor leads me out into the hall, past all the Ravens and Gisella, who stare me down like a bunch of wide-eyed bobble head dolls. They actually step back and scatter before Connor, though I’m walking behind him and can’t see his expression.

He leads me to another single room at the end of the hall. The bed in here is still perfectly made, an unopened suitcase sitting on the couch. Other than that, it’s like Connor hasn’t even stepped in here yet.

Maybe he hasn’t. After all, he’s running the whole security operation. He probably does a lot more than I even know about.

“Are you still cold?” he asks.

I nod, and he moves over to adjust the thermostat, then starts pulling back the covers of the bed.
Turning it down for me. Kind of sweet, in different circumstances
.

I look down at myself; I’m wearing tight jeans and a silk shirt.

“I don’t want to sleep in this,” I say, feeling silly.

“Shit, of course.” Connor goes over and unzips his suitcase, rifling through his stuff until he comes up with a gray t-shirt and a pair of what looks like gym shorts.

“Are these okay? They’re clean. I can get Gisella to get something else…” he trails off, then shakes his head.

Not from my room
, I think.

“Just the shirt,” I say, taking it from him. I glance over at the bathroom, then bite my lip. It’s silly, but I don’t want to go in that dark bathroom by myself. Not yet.

“Can you turn around for a second?” I ask. There’s nothing remotely sexual about this moment in either of our lives, so I’m just going to do what needs to be done.

Connor turns his back on me, a funny expression on his face.

I strip off my jeans and shirt as fast as I can, pulling on the t-shirt he gave me. After a moment’s thought, I take my bra off under the shirt.

After the night I’ve had, might as well at least be comfortable
.

I climb into the bed and pull the covers up to my chin, feeling like a little kid.

“You can turn around,” I say.

Connor turns around and sees me in the bed, and a little bit of the anger in his gaze leaks away. Which makes me way happier than I expect, somehow.

I guess I don’t want to outright cause him stress…
is how I explain
that
gem to myself.

“Alright,” he says. “You want this lamp on instead of the overhead light?”

“Sure.”

He switches the lights and moves his suitcase off the couch. For a second, he’s at a loss as to what to do next. I’m sure normally he would change into night clothes.
Unless he sleeps naked, of course…

I roll my eyes silently.

You’re just tired
, I tell myself.

He sits down on the couch and frowns. He gives the tiniest shrug and then lies down. It’s actually super comical watching him try to arrange himself on the couch; he’s several inches too long and wide to fit on it. His feet hang
wayyyy
off the end; he hasn’t even taken his shoes off.

“Um, night,” he says. He settles on his back, throwing an arm over his eyes. He doesn’t move, but clearly he’s not sleeping, either.

“Hey,” I say after a second.

Connor moves his arm and glances at me.

“You need something to eat?” he guesses.

I shake my head.

“No. I just… I’m sorry that I dragged you into this thing with my… stalker, or whatever.”