Wilde for Him (33 page)

"Here's the cellar. I left the door open. I really do doubt they're here." she said, even as she fished a key ring from her front apron pocket. "But if it makes you feel better, we can double-check to be sure."

"Thanks." Ben wasn't going anywhere until he knew for certain that Christine wasn't down in that cellar.

She unlocked the door, and as soon as it opened Ben heard a woman's muffled attempt at yelling, some scuffling, then Craig spoke.

"Who's up there?" he demanded harshly, making Ben realize that he couldn't see all the way up the stairs to the door, which worked to his advantage.

Jodie was staring at Ben with wide, startled eyes. Apparently, she had come to the realization that Craig had set her up to get Christine down in the cellar alone. Ben nodded his head, indicating for her to reply.

"It's Jodie, Mr. Crosby," she said, her voice steady despite the look of dismay on her face. "Is Christine down there with you?"

"No, she's not," Craig replied in a crisp tone, and again there was another noise that sounded like he was trying to restrain or subdue someone. "She left a while ago. Now, I'd like some privacy down here and I don't want to be bothered or interrupted. Make sure everyone upstairs knows that."

"Yes, Mr. Crosby."

Jodie drew the door closed, but left it so that it didn't shut tightly and Ben could easily push it back open. When she glanced back at him, her panic increased when she saw that he'd withdrawn the gun he'd had concealed.

"Oh, my God," she whispered as tears welled in her eyes. "I honestly had no idea Mr. Crosby would do something like this."

Ben just prayed that the other man hadn't hurt Christine in any way, because if he had, then Ben wouldn't be responsible for his actions. A slow, painful death wouldn't be near good enough for Craig.

"Look, I'm a security agent," he said in a low voice, trying to keep Jodie calm so that she wouldn't go into hysterics, even as his own heart was beating frantically in his chest. "I need you to go to call the police. Tell them that there's a hostage situation at Envy, and you need them here immediately."

She nodded in understanding, then headed back out to the main area. Ben waited until she was gone, then inhaled a deep, steady breath before quietly nudging the door back open again, his weapon poised and ready. It took every ounce of restraint he possessed not to just rush in, guns blazing, but he didn't know what the situation was like, or if Craig was armed. So, he cautiously made his way down the stairs, his entire body tensing at the sound of Christine pleading with Craig to stop whatever he was doing to her.

Another step, and they came into view. Rage surged through Ben at the sickening sight of Craig's face buried against Christine neck, and his hands in places they had no business being. Craig's back was to Ben, so he couldn't shoot the other man because there was too great of a chance that the bullet would go straight through him to Christine, who he had pinned against the wall.

He knew the exact moment that Christine saw him. Her eyes grew round, but she didn't say a word to give his presence away. Her hands looked as though they'd been restrained behind her back, rendering her helpless when it came to Craig's superior strength. She struggled against him, even tried to kick him, but it did her no good.

Silently, he made his way down the rest of the stairs, his gun trained on Craig's back, right in the vicinity of his heart. He still didn't know if he had any kind of weapon, and that was the only thing that kept Ben from not charging over to the other man and ripping him away from Christine—then beating the living shit out of him.

"Let her go, Crosby," Ben demanded.

Craig moved quicker than Ben anticipated. He spun around, and at the same time he pulled Christine around too, so that she was standing in front of him like a human shield. Then he wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her secured in place.

As far as Ben could see, Craig didn't have a weapon, but now Christine was in his direct line of fire. Her expression was terrified, and he noticed that the side of her face near her eye was red and puffy, and the straps of her dress had been torn off. Other than Craig putting his hands all over Christine, it appeared she was okay and unharmed. Thank God.

"Ahhh, your knight in shining armor has arrived," Craig drawled sarcastically, his face nestled close to Christine's cheek. "Just in the nick of time, as always." Then his eyes narrowed into menacing slits as he glared at Ben. "God, I hate you!" he spat venomously. "Everything was going my way until you came along, stole Christy away, and screwed everything up!"

The man was obviously a mental case, and Ben treaded lightly so that he didn't do or say something to send Craig over the edge. "It's over Craig. Let her go."

"It's not over until I say it's over!" he yelled like a crazed man. Then he bent down, pulling Christine with him, and reached for something on the floor. When he straightened again, he held a sharp piece of broken glass in his hand. He touched the serrated edge to her cheek and pressed just enough to make Christine whimper from the sting of pain.

"Put your gun down," Craig ordered, and dragged the blade down to the pulse beating in Christine's throat.

Despite the threat, Ben refused to release the gun—it was the only leverage he had in this power play between them and he wasn't about to put Christine in such a vulnerable position. He refused to let anything bad happen to her, knowing he'd never be able to live with himself if Craig harmed her in any way.

Images of Kim in Iraq during the ambush flashed in his head. In his mind's eye he saw her getting shot, then dying in his arms all over again. His throat started to close up with guilt, and he swallowed it back. He couldn't change the past or bring Kim back, but he was determined that his situation with Christine would end much differently… if only he could get a clear shot at Craig.

Ben looked into Christine's eyes, seeing the fear there, but also a strength and fortitude that made him proud, as well as an innate faith in his ability to defend her, to protect and save her. She believed in him, trusted in him, and it was those undiluted emotions that were nearly his undoing.

But then she closed her eyes and he watched her relax just the slightest bit, just enough to let him know without words what she was about to do—give him the clearance he needed to take Craig down.

In the meantime, Ben tried to reason with Craig until the opportunity presented itself. "Look, you let her go, and you can walk a free man," he lied, knowing he would do everything within his power to make sure that Craig spent decades behind bars, where he belonged. "There's no reason to hurt Christine."

"I'm not giving her up! She's mine," Craig ranted furiously. "And if I can't have her, no one will. Especially not you!"

During Craig's bitter outburst, he waved the sharp piece of glass in the air, using it to punctuate the resentment and vehemence of his words and leaving Christine free to complete her maneuver. In that unguarded moment, she unexpectedly went limp in Craig's arms, dropping like a lead weight and throwing him off balance—mentally and physically. She slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor, and as soon as she was out of the way, and before Craig could comprehend what had just happened, Ben pulled the trigger and shot the other man in the left shoulder.

Craig dropped the shard of glass in his hand and howled in pain as the bullet penetrated flesh and bone. Christine scrambled away the best she could with her hands tied behind her back, and when Craig took a step toward her once again, Ben stopped him cold before he could touch her.

"That was just a warning shot, asshole," Ben said, keeping his gun aimed high and pointed right between Craig's eyes. "You go anywhere near Christine before the cops arrive and I'll blow your fucking head off." And he meant it, too.

Obviously not wanting to test Ben's threat, Craig pressed a hand over his wound and slid along the wall to the floor, a defeated, broken man.

IT was nearly two hours later before Christine could finally go home. Soon after Ben shot Craig the police arrived and took him into custody. Statements had to be taken, reports had to be filled out, and because the cops had piqued the curiosity of her friends, she stopped to explain what had happened, and assure them that she was okay.

As soon as she and Ben arrived back at her house, she asked him to wait while she took a shower and changed into something more comfortable. Her legs were sticky from the champagne she'd dropped, and she had a few minor cuts from the shattered glass that she needed to wash. Overall, she just wanted to scrub away the overwhelming unpleasantness of the entire night and start out fresh and clean with Ben.

She no longer needed a bodyguard or a pretend boyfriend. What she wanted now with Ben was the real deal and something she'd never had with any other man before him. A best friend she loved spending time with and could confide her deepest secrets to, knowing they'd be safe with him. A generous lover who complemented her on so many sexual, intimate levels. A committed relationship based on love, respect, and trust.

But it was clear as she walked back into the kitchen and saw his businesslike stance against the far counter, and the impassive look in his eyes, that he'd already retreated from her and any of the feelings that had taken root and blossomed between them in their time together. This distant man in front of her with his emotional walls erected sky-high was not the warm, attentive, accessible man she'd just spent the past three weeks with. Instead, this was a man who was running scared and refused to face his past in order to have a future… with her.

Still, she was determined that he wasn't going to leave tonight without her giving him the two things he needed most in his life—her heart and her unconditional love. Whether he accepted her gift or not was entirely up to him.

With that in mind, she walked toward him and stopped a few feet away. She'd put on a pair of old sweatpants and an equally ancient pullover hoodie for warmth. Her hair was still damp and she'd washed all her makeup off her face in the shower. All traces of the sophisticated woman he was used to seeing were gone, and in her place was the person she was beneath all the exterior trappings: a plain and simple girl who ached to be loved and cared for by this man.

His gaze roamed over her face and came to a stop on the swollen, bluish-purple mark on the right side of her cheek where Craig had hit her, which would eventually match the bruises still on her shoulder and stomach, courtesy of Jason.

Ben gave her a lopsided grin, but didn't reach out and touch her as she wished he would. "What is it about you that turns men into psychopaths?" he teased, obviously trying to keep things light and easy between them.

"Must be my sparkling personality," she said with equal amounts of humor. "But don't worry, as far as I know, there's no more jilted men lurking out there."

"Good thing." His expression turned much too serious. "Are you going to be okay?"

Physically, she knew she'd heal. Emotionally, though, she had a feeling that it was going to take her a very long time to recover from the pain tightening like a vise around her heart.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "It'll take more than a shiner or a couple of shots with a paintball gun to do me in. I'm not all fluff, you know."

A low, rough rumble of laughter escaped him. "Yeah, you're one tough cookie."

She realized how strong she'd become over the past few weeks—internally and mentally—and knew she had Ben and his support and encouragement to thank for a lot of her transformation. "I guess I'm just done with letting people walk all over me. I've had enough and I'm not taking it anymore," she said playfully.

He didn't smile as she'd expected him to. "It's a good mentality to have." He paused, and she knew what was coming even before the words left his mouth. "I should go."

She crossed her arms over her chest, mirroring his stubborn attitude. "What if I want you to stay?"

A muscle in his jaw ticked. "Another night together isn't going to make ending this any easier."

She shook her head, wondering if he was being deliberately obtuse to avoid the real underlying issues between them. If so, she was about to put everything out there so there would be no mistaking what she wanted, or how she felt about him.

"The thing is, I don't want just one last night with you, Ben. I want, and need, a whole lot more."

"That's part of the problem, Christine," he said gruffly, his eyes flashing with gold flecks of anger. "I just don't have it in me to give you everything you need and deserve. You've known that all along."

Yes, he'd made it abundantly clear that he didn't fit into her life, and that his emotions had been stripped raw from past experiences, but she just didn't believe that he was dead inside, that he didn't have the ability to care for another woman, because she'd seen and felt evidence to the contrary.

"I love you, Ben," she said, risking it all for him. "With all my heart, with all my soul, with everything I am." She swallowed hard, hating that dark look of denial pinching his gorgeous features. "And whether you can admit it to yourself, or not, I know you feel something for me, too."

He groaned, sounding like a man who'd been mortally wounded. "I can't do this again, Christine."

Okay, that hurt—that she didn't mean enough to him for him to take a chance, that she wasn't worth the risk to his already battered heart. It also made her angry enough to confront him with what she knew to be true.

"You haven't said the words, but I know you love me, too," she said ruthlessly. "I've seen the emotion in your eyes. I felt it with every fiber of my being the night you told me that we were making love."

He took a step toward her. "Christine—"

She held up a hand to keep him at a distance. "Don't say anything. I don't what to hear you deny the truth, to me or yourself. I know what's real and true. You obviously don't and I can't force you to see or feel something that you won't allow to touch your heart or emotions."

He released a harsh stream of breath and looked away.