One Dance for Case (Possessed 2)

“There a problem here, Miss Eve?” he asked like he was supposed to. It was the one and only warning the customers would get before he tossed them out.

Holding her breath, she waited for the man to release his grip on her. When he didn’t, she felt an almost electric crackle in the air as he was ripped from her back.

Once again, the stranger from before had pulled yet another man off of her. Turning to him, she said, “This is getting old.”

The look he gave her should have had her wilting. There was anger and heat in his dark brown eyes as he responded, “Maybe if you stopped letting strange fucking men put their hands on you this wouldn’t be a problem.”

His tone of voice, the possessiveness, the ownership in it blew her away. She was nobody to him. She didn’t even know his name, yet he seemed invested in her. A total of maybe twenty minutes in each other’s presence. How the hell could he be so invested?

“Evelyn, we need to talk.” His friend—she couldn’t remember his name—demanded again.

“Look, I’m sorry Deedee sent you on some wild goose chase for me; I really am. But as you can see, I’m fine. I don’t know what you want nor do I care at this point.” That was a lie. She wanted to know but felt it safer to let it all go. “I can’t do this, okay? I’ve got people to take care of, and that doesn’t include nosey neighbors and shit.”

“The black eye tells me differently,” the man who’s name she still didn’t recall spoke up.

“You have a lot of nerve, buddy. Leave me alone!” She almost stomped her foot walking away, but thought better of it at the last moment, not wanting to look or sound like a little girl.

“Evelyn!” That wicked voice had her halting mid-step without even meaning to. A sliver of awareness slid down her spine. Almost a craving of the dark need she heard in that single world.

She waited, remaining rooted to the spot in her refusal to speak to him or his friend.

It wasn’t long before she felt his heat at her back, his hand in her hair, his body engulfing hers. “Please, Kitten?” he whispered in her ear.

“Why can’t you leave me alone?” she said only loud enough for him to hear.

He seemed to take a moment to ponder her question as he placed both hands on her hips, rubbing the tops of her thighs with his thumbs and turning her around. When she didn’t immediately meet his gaze, he placed a finger under her chin, lifting up so he could see her. “Tell me what happened here,” he ran his thumb under her blackened eye again, “and I’ll leave you alone.” She wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not. Why would he even want to know?

When she went to open her mouth to answer, he blurted, “And not a lie either.”

What was he, a fucking mind reader?

Shooting him a scathing look she told him, “I had an accident,” hoping he’d let it go.

“Too vague.”

Fuck.

She didn’t want to tell him. Marcus was angry enough with her. She knew if someone found out he’d hit her after she and Andy left his Mommy and Me class early a few days ago, then there’d really be hell to pay. He’d decided to move himself into their tiny one-bedroom apartment where she and Andy now shared the bedroom. Thankfully, it had a lock on it so she could have the pretense of safety while he was there. But she had no doubt that if he wanted in, he’d get in.

“I can’t.”

“Why?” his look was skeptical.

No matter how much she hated it, she had a unique connection to this hardened man and lying to him wasn’t something she wanted to do. “Please don’t make me lie to you.” She could feel the sadness in her own eyes, so she knew he saw it.

Casey could see the emotions swirling in her eyes. Fear was prominent, but there was a burning anger in her, too. He wanted to know what caused those two things to clash so violently that they rolled off her in waves. Permeated the air so he was nearly suffocating in it.

“You can tell me anything, Kitten.” Lowering his head towards her, he heard her subtle intake of breath. Just when she would have thought he was going to kiss her, he turned his head, running his cheek alongside hers. “Anything.” He breathed in her ear again, needing to reinforce his vow to her. Flexing her hands in his shirt, he pulled back slightly to see her give a small nod. “Tell me who hurt you, Ev.” He let a note of steel run through his voice, so she knew there was no choice. She was bruised. It was crucial he knew who did it, so he knew whose knee’s he’d be breaking.

Just when he thought she was finally going to tell him, her spine stiffened and resolve colored her eyes.

He lost her before he even had her.

“I don’t even know your name. How can I tell you

my secrets?” The inflection in her voice gave away her nerves. She wanted to trust him, but her apprehension held her back.

“My name is Sergeant Casey John Risley, retired U.S. Army Ranger, born and raised in Baltimore. I eat pancakes as often as I can, live off MRE’s when Dee refuses to cook for me, and I have a soft spot for a certain dancer I just met. That enough for you?” She cracked a small smile, that had to be a good thing.