Dark Mysteries (12 page)

Faith
shrugged, finally looking back at him. “Everyone has an
Achilles's heel. Find it. Exploit it. Slice it with a knife if you
have to. The only way to get through to someone scary is to be
scarier.”

Xander
looked at her for a moment, watching the way she stood, legs wide,
her weight distributed evenly. Her arms across her chest. Her back
straight. “Sometimes,” he said, smiling at her, “when
you talk like this... you're truly a terrifying woman.”

Faith
dropped her arms, chuckling slightly. “Sorry,” she said,
wiggling her shoulders like someone does when they stretch them out
after a workout, “something weird is going on around here. It
has me on edge. Don't need to get caught in some kind of war between
the families.”

Xander
looked down at his feet. If he hadn't been so preoccupied with Ellie,
he would have seen right away that she was off. That something was
wrong. “Look,” he said, reaching out and putting a hand
on her arm, “if shit starts going crazy, come get me. Between
Gabe and I... we can protect you.”

“Oh,
babe... didn't anyone ever tell you?” she asked, shaking off
his hand and moving to open the door for him, “I can take care
of myself.”

Nine

Ellie
stood in the kitchen for a long time after he left, feeling a little
more taken aback than she really had the right to. So what if he
needed to rush out? And was a bit... gruff. From the stories she
heard about him, that was his personality. Just because he took pity
on her for having a nightmare didn't change his everyday personality.

She
was projecting her feeling of connection onto him. And she shouldn't
even have felt that way. It didn't mean anything. People shared beds
with other people all the time. So what if he slipped a hand under
her shirt? And traced circles on her skin? And buried his hands in
her hair? Nothing had actually happened. He hadn't even implied he
was thinking about her that way.

He
had even went out of his way to tell her that she wasn't his type.

Ellie
washed the coffee cups and walked over to make the bed. She was
horny, she realized with a hysterical giggle. That was the problem.
Why she was horny was another question. She didn't even really like
sex. Sure, there had been times when the intimacy had felt nice once
upon a time. But she never experienced the clawing need for sex. Or
the fireworks during sex that everyone else talked about.

So
wanting Xander was weird.

With
a shrug, she showered and changed into black leggings and a
nondescript v-necked gray t-shirt. She had just finished pulling her
hair into a french braid that reached half-way down her back when
there was a knocking on the front door. Her heart leaped into her
throat, her heart slamming in her chest. She stepped carefully into
the hallway, watching the door as if it was about to burst inward.

Because
Xander always said it was him.

She
tiptoed back toward the apartment, trying to convince herself to calm
down. It was probably a client. Or a friend. Not every knock on the
door meant horror. In fact, he almost never knocked. He just found
his way in. And waited for her.

“Xander,”
a woman's voice called through the door. “Open up. It's
Hannah.”

Ellie
stopped moving, her hand frozen on the door. Hannah. Hannah Clary.
His client who he felt guilty about. Should she let anyone in his
office when he wasn't around? She didn't even know when he would be
home.

But
he needed to see her.

She
moved in through the office and unlocked the front door, pulling it
open to find Hannah and Elliott Michaels standing there... looking
completely out of place in his immaculate three-piece suit in such an
awful neighborhood.

“Oh,”
Hannah said, her gray eyes widening, “hi,” she mumbled,
dropping her hand from the door. But not before Ellie saw the scars.
The bright red, angry, awful looking scars around her wrists. Scars
that only come from fighting against some kind of binding. Scars that
came from being held against your will. Scars like she herself had on
her wrists.

“Hi,”
Ellie said, taking in the woman's long black hair and curvy body with
a bit of envy. Elliott was tall and good looking with dark hair and
blue eyes. He looked at her for a moment, before snaking an arm
around his girlfriend's waist. What should she tell him? She was the
maid? The secretary? His girlfriend? “Xander just ran out on a
job. He should be back pretty soon if you would like to wait.”

She
could feel them staring at her, taking in her black eye that had
started to take on a green and yellow tint around the blue, the
scratches on her face, her cut lip. She could almost hear the
thoughts pass through her head. Abused woman. Hannah smiled at her
softly, as if sensing, or expecting skittishness in the small
blonde-haired, blue-eyed, battered woman in front of her. “If
you don't mind...”

“Not
at all,” Ellie said, moving out of the way. “I'm...
Ellie,” she said, looking awkwardly around the office. It
really wasn't meant for receiving guests.

“I'm...”

“Hannah,”
Ellie finished. “And you're Elliott,” she said, inclining
her head at him. He really was good looking in a very distant, almost
cold kind of way. He wore his power like an aura around him.

“Do
you work for Xander?” Hannah asked, moving to sit on the edge
of the desk.

“Oh,
no,” she said, deciding the truth would probably be the easiest
course of action. “He's working on a case for me.” They
both nodded at her and a awkward silence fell. She didn't even have a
cell number to call Xander at to tell him to get back. “Do you
guys want some coffee?” she asked after a long minute.

“That
would be great,” Hannah smiled, nodding.

“Cream
or sugar?” Ellie asked, wincing a bit at the rehearsed sound to
her words. Years of serving tables did that to you.

“Black,”
Elliott said, looking at the pictures on the corkboard, “for
both of us,” he said and received a pointed stare from Hannah
and smiled, shaking his head. “Please,” he added.

Ellie
let herself in to the apartment, taking her time pouring the cups, in
no hurry to get back to the uncomfortable silence in the other room.
She could hear them talking to each other in quite tones, unaware how
the sound carried.

“This
is where you went for help?” Elliott asked, his tone
disbelieving.

“Trust
me,” Hannah said, sounding confident. “I did research.
Xander is who you want on your side. I just... waited too long.”

Ellie
walked back in as they stepped away from each other like guilty
teenagers. What must it be like to be that infatuated with another
person?

Ellie
had just handed them their cups when the door opened, Xander looking
down at his phone. “What the hell are you thinking leaving the
door unloc...” his voice trailed off, looking up and seeing
Hannah. His eyes looked confused at first, like he wasn't sure about
what he was actually seeing. Then his eyes fell automatically to her
wrists and a guarded darkness came over his features.

“Sorry,”
Ellie said, admitting it was really stupid of her to not lock the
door after them. “I wasn't sure if it was okay to...”

“It's
fine,” he said, his tone firm but oddly gentle. Like he didn't
want her apology.

“Hey
Xander,” Hannah said, smiling at him. “How have you
been?”

Xander
shook his head. “Fine. How have you been?”

“All
better,” she said, waving a hand. “I called. Left
messages...”

“I've
been busy,” he hedged, looking like he wanted the floor to open
up and swallow him right then and there.

“I
wanted to thank...”

“You
have nothing to thank me for,” Xander said, moving behind the
desk and opening a drawer. He pulled out a manilla folder and held it
out to her. “Actually, I've been meaning to have this sent back
to you,” he said shoving it toward her until she had to take
it.

She
looked at it suspiciously, opening the tab and looking inside.
“Absolutely not,” she said, shoving it against his chest,
making him stumble back a foot.

Ellie
almost wanted to laugh. A big, hulking man like Xander being pushed
back a step by a pretty black-haired woman in heels. Judging by the
strange tilt to the edge of Elliott's lips, he was having the same
struggle with his composure.

“Sweetheart...”
he started and then looked almost guiltily at Elliott. “Hannah,”
he corrected himself, “I didn't do the job you hired me to do.
I owe you your money back.”

“You
did a lot of work on the case,” Hannah corrected. When he still
refused to grab the folder, she threw it on his desk. “You read
all those notes. And you broke into my apartment...” she said,
almost laughing. “You got into a fist fight with Elliott...”

Ellie
looked at Elliott, who nodded at her. She tried to imagine the fight:
huge dangerous Xander rolling around on the ground with impeccably
dressed, powerful Elliott Michaels. It was a funny image and she
found herself bringing a hand up to cover her mouth.

“And
then you were drugged, kidnapped, and tortured,” Xander said,
his tone attempting to sound rational, but sounding sad instead. He
was trying to keep it together. The absolute last thing he had
expected to deal with that day was a confrontation with Hannah. He
wouldn't have even considered the idea that Ellie would have let
anyone in his office. He glanced over at her, her hand covering her
lips. Maybe her fear had slipped when she heard a female voice. Maybe
she felt comfortable letting someone in who had been similarly
abused.

Hannah
was in rare form. Haughty and determined. Angry, almost, at him for
not getting back to her. For making her trek all the way into his
neck of the woods.

“Oh,
my god,” Hannah said, rolling her eyes, exasperated, “it
wasn't your fault. If this was anyone's fault, it was mine...”

“Hannah...”
Elliott broke in, his tone rational, firm.

“Not
in a
'I slept with my boss so I deserved to be stalked by a crazy
bitch who was in love with him'
kind of way,” Hannah shot
back. “I mean... for not getting help earlier. I knew it was
escalating and I just kept... pretending it wasn't that bad.”
She reached out and touched Xander's arm and his eyes went to her
wrists again. “This was on me. Not you. So stop punishing
yourself, you idiot,” she said, letting her hand drop. “And
you're taking the damn money,” she added for good measure.

Ellie
watched Hannah with a sense of awe and envy. The girl had just gotten
out of the hospital a few days ago and she was already back to being
some kind of force of nature. Strong. Sure of herself. Unashamed of
her scars. Ellie looked down at her wrists, covered in hair bands.
Always worried someone would get the wrong impression.

Of
course, Hannah hadn't been tortured for years by someone who was
supposed to love her. Maybe it was easier to move on when your
tormentor was just some random whack job. When they were safely
locked away behind bars. When you had someone by your side who held
you through the nightmares, who kissed away the fears.

God,
what was wrong with her?

“Fine,”
Xander sighed, his lips quirking up. “I'll take the money. I'll
buy a new stun gun and name it after you,” he winked.

He
hadn't even winked at her, and she felt a rush of desire flood her
system, making her skin feel tingly and her heart beat a little
faster. She should have lied to another private investigator. One
less unnervingly sexy. Preferably an old, fat guy. Or a surly,
loud-mouthed woman. That would have been the better choice. Now she
was stuck in close quarters with someone she was having slightly
inappropriate thoughts about. Okay... really inappropriate thoughts
about. He looked just as good in a long sleeved shirt as he did
without one. Well... maybe not as good. But he was yummy to...

“Ellie,”
Xander broke into her thoughts. Her head snapped up, her cheeks
heating and her eyes looking guilty. Had she been staring at him? She
was pretty sure she had been staring. And from the strange look on
his face, he had called her name more than once.

“What?
Sorry...” she said, her face feeling like it was on fire.

Xander
shook his head. She was acting really strange. And her face was red
as a beet. “I said I am going to go show Elliott and Hannah a
building in the neighborhood,” at her blank look, he pressed
on, “for the low income housing complex he is building...”
he added, wondering how long she had been zoned out. What was making
her look so embarrassed. “Do you want to come?”

“No,”
she said too quickly. “No thanks... I need to...” Take a
cold shower, a really, really cold shower, “straighten up the
kitchen,” she finished, knowing he knew she was lying and not
caring.

He
sent her a weird smile, leading the Hannah and Elliott toward the
door. “Okay,” he said, reaching out and touching her arm.
“Lock the door,” he said and was gone.

Yup,
Ellie nodded, sliding the lock. A really cold shower.