Like Ashley…
Damn. When he’d lifted her off the ground, she’d been trembling, crying, and scared to death. That was when he’d realized she was more child than woman. As light as a fawn, with big, expressive, innocent eyes, she’d been close to falling apart.
He knew he’d frightened her. It was too bad she’d seen what he’d done to the idiot who’d body-slammed her. Tripp felt sorry about her witnessing that. But he didn’t give a flying fuck about that guy. Saving her virtue, possibly her life, was all that mattered. Ashley Cox was alive because of him, and she’d get over seeing the punishment her would-be killer/rapist had received. He’d only gotten a small portion of what he deserved, but Tripp would be watching from now on. The next time that scurvy little bastard assaulted anyone, he’d wake up in a shallow, unmarked grave. Tripp would make sure of that.
But Ashley... Damn. He couldn’t get her out of his head. A sigh breathed out of him remembering the feel of her delicate, quivering body in his arms and on his lap. Of how she’d melted into him, trusted him. Of how she smelled. Wind and cherries were now a sensual lure lingering over the surface of his mind, like a fisherman’s fly teasing the rivers and streams. He was the trout, hunting and waiting below. Watching. Hoping.
Yeah, no. Hope had nothing to do with why Tripp hunted these streets and alleys. That frightened woman with tears in her eyes and blood on her neck, she was why he did what he did. Ashley was soft and feminine. Unsure and timid. She needed to stay that way.
Okay, so yeah, maybe it was because she’d leaned into him... Maybe it was the scent of her hair… Or the way her heart pulsed at the hollow of her slender neck... Aw, hell, maybe it was just that she’d been so much in need of a man like him tonight. Tripp didn’t know. Yet all those feminine nuances called to something he’d shoved down so deep in his soul, he thought he’d never have to deal with it again.
For sure she’d never recognize him the next time their paths crossed. He wasn’t that kind of lucky. Or smart. Smart would be to quit this one-man crusade against evil and to search out the better half of himself. To believe in love again. To settle down and stop fighting the whole damned world. Hell, he was surrounded by a team of happily married guys at work. Every one of them had something he didn’t. While he knew there were better things to do with the rest of his life, he also knew his crusade was worth doing. If not him, who would save the defenseless? The naïve and silly-hearted? The normal people who had no clue how ugly life was?
The ambulance flashed its red lights, but no siren screamed as it pulled away, which was damned decent of those EMTs. They’d make sure Ashley got the care she deserved. She was safe with them now. She’d be okay. It was time to call it a night.
Dragging a hand over his head, Tripp smoothed his black beanie off and ruffled his hair. Into his rear pocket the beanie went. The streets were safe again. For now.
Chapter Four
In the darkest shadows, from across busy King Street, he watched, drooling at the luscious scene that had just unfolded. He’d just finished with his latest treasure. Left her where the local police would surely find her. After all, they were still looking, weren’t they? Stupidity ran deep within the ranks of Alexandria’s so-called finest. If the police were any good, they would’ve caught him last time. Or the time before that. But they hadn’t, had they? No, and they were no closer to catching him this time, either. He knew the game. They, obviously, didn’t.
My, but she’d grown more beautiful these last two years. Her hair was longer, silkier. Her voice, more tender. Almost melodic in its terror. Such a delightful morsel and, coincidentally, a woman he remembered. The one that got away…
Destiny, that was the name for coincidental meetings like this. A man could rely on destiny. She pointed out patterns most people didn’t see. She supplied signs and prognostications. Promises…
He hadn’t known the name of this playmate when they’d met before. But he did now. Ashley Cox. It had a lovely ring to it.
Perhaps the behemoth who’d saved her tonight might check on her later? He seemed like the type, as carefully as he’d handled her… As softly as he’d spoken to her. Wasn’t that what heroes did? Wasn’t that their pattern? Their style? Their destiny? To keep track of the poor, sweet victims they rescued? To take advantage of their two minutes of fame before they overcame their prey with lies and innuendo that would ultimately end with them in the same bed?
But for now, Ashley Cox—Oh, he loved that name!—was safely hidden out of sight and on her way to some nearby hospital instead of home. He had no choice. If he wanted her, he’d have to follow the fellow who’d saved her. Surely, he’d lead the gallant way to Ashley’s hidey-hole. What’d she call him, her guardian angel? Her hero? Not likely. That big guy was only a means to an end. The end of Ashley Cox.
Chapter Five
Ashley drew in another deep breath, then blew it out, sending her black bangs flying out of her eyes and off her face. The rest of her long locks stayed put in the ponytail she’d curled into a good, tight knot at the back of her neck. It was early Monday morning, and she’d just survived one heck of a long weekend.
