What He Guards (What He Wants, Book Twelve)

WHAT
HE GUARDS (What He Wants, Book Twelve)

By Hannah Ford

Copyright 2015, Hannah Ford, all rights
reserved.
 
This book is a work of fiction,
and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.
 

CHARLOTTE

I stared down at the phone in my hand,
feeling disconnected from my body, like I was in some kind of dream state.
 
I’d only ever felt that way once before
– when I was watching my father die, when I was standing by his bedside
while his body rattled as he took his last breaths, the smell of antiseptic and
chicken soup heavy in the room.

But this was much more intense.
 
With my father, it was like I’d been watching
a movie or a scene in a snow globe.
 
Now it felt like I was
in
the movie, like I was part of the
scene.
 
And even though none of it
felt grounded in reality, I knew I couldn’t escape.

“Charlotte,” Noah demanded again.
 
“Who was it?”

He took my phone from my hand and looked
at the call log, his brow furrowing when he saw “Unknown” written on the
screen.
 
He took in a long measured
breath.
 
“That was
him
?
 
The man
who sent you to Audi?”

I nodded.
 

“What did he say?”

The room was slowly coming back into
focus, the colors and angles sharpening.
 
I flexed my fingers experimentally, wondering if I was going to have
another panic attack like I’d had the other day.
 
But instead of feeling weak and numb, I began to feel
strong.

I was sick of being on the defensive,
sick of waiting for things to happen.
 
I was sick of being scared, sick of waiting for Noah to allow me into
his world, sick of just sitting on the sidelines while everyone else swept me
up in their decisions.

I was under attack.
 
And I wanted to fight back.

“Charlotte!” Noah demanded.
 
“Look at me.”

I looked at him, my heart clenching at
the worry on his face.
 
“He said he
was going to kill me.”

Noah’s eyes blackened and his complexion
became ruddy as two spots of color darkened his cheeks.
 
“He said
what?”

“He said he was going to kill me.
 
He said he was going to strangle me
just like he strangled Katie.
 
He
asked me if I was going scream like she did.”

“Jesus, Charlotte.”
 
He ran his hand through his dark hair
and his jaw tightened.
 
The
expression on his face was steady, even, but I could sense his rage boiling
beneath the surface.
 
He was
furious at me for defying him, for sending that email to Ryan Ramos, for
putting myself in danger.

He took a step toward me, and his temple
throbbed.
 
I met his eyes, and we
stood there for a moment in my living room, just staring at each other, a
heightened intensity hanging in the air between us.
 
I knew he wanted to punish me.
 
I’d been defying him repeatedly over the past twenty-four
hours, and he didn’t like it.
 
He
didn’t like me not trusting him, didn’t like me threatening his control.
 
He was resisting the urge to spank me
and fuck
me and tie me – I could see the desire searing
in his eyes and I wondered how long he’d be able to fight it
.

His emotions around the fact that I’d put
myself in danger had transformed into a dark and twisted need to control my
body, and I could see him wrestling with it, trying his best to keep it at bay
for now.

He seemed to be successful as the intense
look in his eyes diminished just the tiniest bit.
 
My heart rate began slowing, but I knew it wasn’t over.
 
Noah may have been successful in
tamping his urges for now, but they would be back, and when they came they
would be stronger than ever.

“We’re calling the police.”
  

“No,” I said.
 
I’d expected my voice to be shrieky and shrill, but instead
it sounded strong and determined. For a second I had that same flash of being
disconnected from my body, but a second later it was gone and I was firmly
grounded back in reality.

“Yes,” Noah said, beginning to dial the
number on my phone.

“Noah!” I said.
 
“No!”
 
I grabbed
for the phone, but he held it just out of my reach.
 
I lunged for it again, but his body was made of stone,
expertly conditioned by hours of running and weights.

“Charlotte, this is not up for
negotiation,” he said, like I was a child being told I couldn’t play with a
favorite toy.

“What are you going to say to them,
Noah?” I demanded.
 
“That some
random person called and threatened my life?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to
say.”
 
He’d finished dialing, and
he put the phone to his ear, waiting for the call to be picked up.

“Are you
serious?”
 
I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. “Are you even thinking this
through?
 
What do you think the police are going to think, Noah?
 
Do you think they’re going to believe
you?”
 

“It’s inconsequential whether they
believe me or not.
 
They will be
forced to take action.”

“Really, Noah?
 
They’ve charged you with
first degree
murder.
 
They’ve started the trial
process.
 
They’re not going to be
jumping at the chance to start looking at other suspects. They’re going to
accuse you of lying, they’re going to say that you’re interfering with their
justice process.”

“Can I have Detective Fisk, please?” he
said into the phone.
 
“Thank
you.”
 
He was put on hold, and he
shook his head at me.
 
“You’ve been
reading one too many crime novels, Charlotte.”

 
“That’s bullshit.
 
They want to nail you for this, Noah.
 
They’ve been quiet so far because they’re waiting for the
media to get interested, and then they’re going to ride this case for all it’s
worth.
 
Me sending that email was
just the first step of what was inevitably going to happen.
 
The DA’s office wants to bury you, and
they’re not going to listen to anything that makes it look like they’ve got the
wrong person.
 
And you know it.”

“Charlotte, I will not play games with
your life.
 
Now get your things.”

“Get my
things?”

“Yes.
 
We’re going back to my apartment.
 
You agreed to do as I say, and this is what I’m saying.”

“And you agreed to try things my way.”

“Yes, well, the situation has changed.”

Red hot
fury coursed through me.
 
How dare he just decide to change our
agreement.
 
He’d
said we could try this my way, and at the first sign of a speed bump, he was
taking it back.

A weariness
washed over me.
 

Let him,
a voice in my head whispered, tempting
and sweet.
 
Let him
take
over
,
let him call the police
.
 
Let him take you back to his
apartment,
let him take his frustration out on you with his
hand, his belt, his cock.
 
The thoughts pulled on my mind.
 
Come
on,
they beckoned.
 
Just
do it.
 
Let him take over.

But I couldn’t give in.

Because Noah was wrong.

His desire to protect me was clouding his
judgment.
 
If he called the police,
it was going to backfire.
 
Sure,
maybe they’d make some half-ass attempt to trace the call from Anonymous, but
that could take weeks.
 
And that
was assuming they even believed Noah in the first place.
 

And then what?
 
Even if the police figured out who’d made that call, it didn’t mean they
were going to start an investigation.
 
Especially now that my email had been printed in the City Herald.
 
The cops would blow it off as a prank call
from someone who’d been following the case and decided to try to scare me.
 

No.

The police and the DA had already decided
who killed Katie.
 
This trial was
going to be high profile, and they wanted to win.

Suddenly, I was scared.
 
It had been a mistake, sending that
email to Ryan Ramos.
 
I’d been
foolish, and it had cost me.
 
But
it was done.
 
There was nothing I
could do about it now.
 
And if Noah
did this, if he contacted the police in a misguided effort to protect me, it
would make things worse.
 

We had a chance to keep him out of jail,
no matter how slim and dangerous that chance might be.

We needed to take it.

“I’ll lie,” I said.

“What?”

“I’ll lie.
 
I’ll refuse to turn over my phone, I’ll say you’re making it
all up.”

His eyes widened in outrage.
 
“Charlotte.
 
This is not up for discussion.”

“I’m not trying to discuss it,” I said, shrugging
my shoulders.
 
“Go ahead.
 
Do what you want.
 
They’re going to think you’re making it
up.
 
They might even charge you
with obstruction of justice or interfering with an investigation.”
 
It was a stupid threat.
 
They wouldn’t charge him with obstruction
or interference.
 
But they would
think he was crazy.
 
They would use
whatever he said against him.
 
The
last thing he should be doing right now was talking to the police, and he knew
it.

He hung up the phone.

He looked at me, our eyes meeting across
the living room.

It was a stalemate.

He wanted to protect me.

And I
wanted
 
to
be
protected by him.
 

But I also refused to lose him.

This might be his one chance at
salvation, and I would do anything to bring it to fruition.

“Noah…” I started, but he gave me a
slight shake of his head, warning me not to speak.
 
So I stayed quiet while he mulled the situation over in his
head.

He crossed the room to me, until our
chests were almost touching.
 
He
put his hands on my shoulders and slid his hands down my arms before
intertwining his fingers with mine.
 
“I cannot let you do this.”

“You’re not
l
etting
me do anything.”

“I explained the rules, Charlotte.
 
I will have complete control of your
body and your
well-being
.
 
You are not to make a move without my permission.”
 
His tone was measured, even, but he was
a man that had been pushed to the brink, and I could feel his need for control
still simmering below the surface.
 
He needed my surrender, and if he didn’t get it… well, then there would
be consequences.
 
I was starting to
realize that his was how he dealt with anything – fear, sadness,
lust
, anxiety – that left him unsettled.

“You said we could try it my way,” I said
gently.
 
“You said we could do
this.”
 
I squeezed his hands in
mine and he closed his eyes.
 
I saw
the pain pass over his face, the agony that tortured him when he thought of me
being in danger.

“That was before I knew some mad man
wanted to kill you.”
 
He took one
of his hands from mine and pushed my hair back from my face, his thumb skating
over my temple.