For Her Protection-An Alpha Romance(12)

He gave her a hard stare. "I'm a vault."





SIX


Connor followed Charlie into the penthouse apartment. For all the  luxury, the building struck him as off. He'd remained at her back,  watchful as always but his skin crawled the same way it did when he  entered a prison block. Too much security, locked doors, security pads,  cameras, not an exit or window that looked easy to get out of.

"Dad?" Charlie set her keys down on a large hall table, her heels echoing on the polished wood floor.

The scent of cigar smoke clung to the walls and furniture. She ran her  fingertips over the back of an antique velvet couch as they stepped into  an expansive sitting room.

A man sat in a green high-backed armchair, ankle resting on one knee,  dressed as if he was at some fancy-ass country club in a  three-piece-suit.

He glanced up from his paper. "You finishing work early these days?"

He spoke gruffly but he put his arm out and Charlie moved to his side and planted her full lips on his cheek.

"It's six-thirty, Dad."

"I never finished before eight." The man's gaze landed on Conner. "Who's this?"         

     



 

Charlie stood next to her father, whose greying, dark hair looked as if it'd once been the same raven as hers.

"Dad, this is my … " She wrung the strap of her bag with one hand and  glanced between the two men. "My boyfriend, Connor." She released the  strap and looked at him, a slight line between her brows. "Conner, this  is my father, William Halifax."

Connor stepped forward and extended his hand. "Sir."

William clasped his hand, putting enough strength behind his grasp to let Connor know the man may be older but not frail.

"At least this one has manners." William turned to Charlie. "I thought you were engaged to that schmuck, Simon?"

Engaged?

The word punched him in the chest, spread rage through his ribcage. He  forced the anger down. So she'd had a life …  He'd had one too. But she'd  been engaged-recently by the sound of it.

Fuck. He hated the idea of someone else's hands on her. From now on there'd only be his.

Charlie went rigid then squeezed her father's shoulder. "No, Dad, I told you we broke up."

William blinked again, gaze hazy.

"Did you?" He shook his head. "Well I'm glad to hear it. That boy could  never keep up with you." He looked at Connor. "Captain of the girls  football team, you know."

He gestured to the mantel.

Connor turned. Well, look at that. Above the fireplace trophies lined  the entire mantel. Football, and what was that? Archery? He itched for a  closer look.

"Dad, honestly … " Charlie gave her father a pleading glare.

"This one looks like he could. You've got a military look about you."

Connor shook his head and folded himself into a two-seater. "Former detective. In security now."

"I'll make tea." Charlie left the room.

William nodded. "So, there much money in security these days?"

Connor didn't blink at the question. He'd been a cop long enough to know when someone was trying to throw him off.

"There is when you own the company."

William tossed his paper onto the table. "You're not threatened by a woman who earns more than you?"

Connor cleared his throat. That was yet to be proven. "Why would I be?"

Deep furrows fanned around William's amber eyes. "Don't go getting any  ideas about my girl. She doesn't have time for distractions, she has a  job to do, and it's to run Halifax ."

A surge of defensiveness rose in his gut but he held it at bay. He didn't intend to distract her from her job.

But what happened if or when Charlie wanted more?

Or something else?

Charlie strode back into the room, a hand clinched at her waist. "Dad,  where's the milk, teabags? Hasn't Lynette done your shopping?"

William appeared to grow three inches. "I damn well fired her."

"Why this time?" Charlie's chest rose.

"She messed with my stuff."

"Lynette was the best caregiver we've had in three years. How was she messing with your stuff?"

"My damn socks. She was sneaking in and taking all my left socks."  William's eyes grew round, all the whites visible around his irises.

Connor shifted. He knew that look. Seen it time after time as a cop-the look of someone who experienced their own reality.

Charlie walked to her father and knelt. "Daddy, why would anyone do that? I don't think socks have a right and a left."

"Of course they do. She was trying to get to me, trying to make me think  I'm crazy. She'd move my spectacles around the house, drink half my tea  when I wasn't looking-she even changed the programming on the damn TV  so I'd never get to see my shows."

Charlie patted his knee. "That wouldn't be possible. Shows change,  things change. We can't control a television station's programming. You  need her, we need her."

"I do not need her. I need to get back to work." William slapped the arm  of the chair, his face brightening. "Sit down and tell me how our  business is faring."

Charlie uncurled from her crouch and sat. "The economy is tough but we're doing our best."

"What about your Uncle?"

She rocked back. "Frank is still CEO, but our lawyers say his lawsuit  for control of your shares is bogus and there will be a decision soon."

"What are you doing in the meantime? I didn't raise you to be a quitter."

Charlie glanced at Connor, then back at her dad. "I haven't given up."

"You can't let him win."

"He hasn't." She leaned closer to her father. "I won't let him drive me out."         

     



 

"He was always jealous."

Charlie sighed. "You eaten tonight, Dad?"

"I'm not helpless. I can still use a microwave." William reclined in his  chair. "Now, be off with you because I know you haven't."

Charlie laughed softly. "I'm going to call in the morning and see if  Lynette will come back. So behave yourself." She gave her father a kiss.  "Or next time I come back I'll bring Janine."

"You wouldn't." William grabbed the arm of his chair. "Not Janine with the incessant conversation."

"I will and I'll tell her you asked about her grandkids." Charlie grinned and stood.

William adjusted his jacket. "I hope you're this ruthless at work."

She whispered, "they don't give me this much trouble."

Connor stared at Charlie. He pitied anyone who dared.

***

Sound burst through her bedroom, shaking her out of inky black  nightmares. Charlie jerked upright. Another bang shook the room and she  rolled out of bed, knocking her side table. A glass lamp fell and  shattered on the floor. She froze. Her heart pummeled the inside of her  chest, fast and painful.

The door slammed inwards and crashed against the wall. A large figure filled the doorway, streaking terror into her limbs.

Her chest clenched-she couldn't catch her breath. The room pitched.

"Charlie, are you okay?"

The words barely penetrated her ringing ears. She couldn't breathe, her chest squeezed tighter.

"Shit. There's glass everywhere."

Silence then a sound, and hands were on her just in time to stop her  from hitting the ground. She clutched her hands to her chest but  couldn't speak-couldn't draw breath. A rumble rippled over the room,  this time softer. She had no choice but to let herself sink into his  arms.

"It's just a tiny earthquake. It's over, just try to breathe." He  scooped her up, and laid her on her mattress and sank down beside her.  He smoothed the long, loose hair out of her face, ran fingers down her  spine, drew her out of her own head and back up to reality.

The squeezing in her chest became a more manageable pressure. She opened  her eyes to look at him and realized something she hadn't noticed  before. Connor had faint but gorgeous laugh lines around his eyes. Now  they were furrowed but not with laughter. She struggled to absorb the  expression on his face, the look of someone who cared.

She wanted to freeze the image in time, hold onto and cherish it.

"What's going on here, Charlie?"

She fell out of the trance she'd been caught in. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I saw you after two guys tried to abduct you in a parking lot. You don't scare easy. So what's going on?"

She looked at him, only now registering that he wore only t-shirt and  boxers, and the fact that she was in her whimsical unicorn pajamas.

And he was on her goddamned bed.

How could she respond to that question anyway?

How could she admit the pressure she'd been under? The quiet fear she  kept that she wasn't good enough-even as she fought for her position. If  he spied for Frank, she couldn't tell him how she was haunted by the  faces of the people she'd given the courtesy of advising their jobs were  gone-to their face. She couldn't say how as much as she loved the  people she worked with, she loathed the industry. That it wasn't at all  unusual for her to wake up with her heart punching fistfuls of dread  into her throat.