Dirty Little Secret(51)

A yelp slipped out as he yanked her head back hard, and she gave in to anger and adrenaline surging in her system. The time for helplessness and tears was over—it was time to fight. Another jerk threatened to snatch her hair from her scalp. Damn it! “Let go!” she shrieked, lifting her foot to kick out at him, but the movement only let him slip between her legs, her heel sliding ineffectually along his shin.

Allen laughed. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t ya. I like the feisty ones. All piss and vinegar and fire. I was watching you the other night. That sexy red dress.” He ground against her. “That round ass.” He tilted his head to stare down her blouse. “I bet those are just as round, aren’t they? And I’m gonna find out, so don’t bother playin’ coy with me. We all saw how Alex was looking at you, and you at him. You’re just his dirty little secret—and men don’t care about their dirty little secrets. Didn’t you know that?”

“No.” Alex cared; she knew he cared.

“Oh yes.” His palm slid from her chin down her body until cruel fingers bit into her breast. “Alex is gettin’ too big for his britches. He thinks he can keep his women all to himself, like that silly slut out at reception. He needs to learn a lesson. He needs to realize this is how this company has always run, will always be run”—pain sparked in her breast as he found her nipple and twisted in a cruel pinch—“with or without him. Women have only one role here, and this is it.”

From the dark, angry tone of his voice, Cailin knew she was out of time. Allen’s patience was at an end, and she might have only one chance to save herself.

Gripping her shirt, Allen stepped back enough to yank down the front, stripping the buttons and opening the flap in one heavy jerk. Taking advantage of the distance between them, she lashed out again, her foot finding his knee with a hard snap, her hands aiming for his eyes. She missed, fingernails gouging into his cheeks. Allen howled in rage and backhanded her.

She felt the impact as she hit the side of her desk and rolled onto her stomach, had just enough presence of mind to grip the edges to keep herself from skidding off the side before Allen landed on her back. His weight was like a full-ton bull pinning her down, denying her breath, as he grabbed the hem of her skirt and shoved it upward. Gathering what little air she could, Cailin focused all her strength and let out a scream to rival the best B-movie heroine who ever belted one out on the silver screen.

“Damn, woman!” Allen bent over her, reaching for her mouth, and she forced her head back before she could reconsider. The back of her head met the front of his face, and the distinct crack of something hard giving way sickened her. The next moment, his weight was gone, and she could breathe again.

“Alex! Alex!”

Ian’s voice confused her. What was he doing here? Where had he come from? But she was too exhausted to care. All the strength she could gather was just enough to slide off the edge of the desk, down onto the floor. Her legs wouldn’t hold her. Her brain shut down. Nothing registered except the feel of the solid wood at her side, keeping her from lying down on the rich cushion of the plush carpet beneath her.

“Cailin!” Tammy’s voice, concerned, shaken.

“It’s all right. I’m all right,” Cailin reassured her, not wanting the woman to cry. She didn’t even really know what she was saying. All she knew was the hands were gone from her body, and now, in the aftermath, everything was fuzzy.

Thank God.

The next thing she knew, Alex was there, his arms surrounding her, his warmth sustaining her, his touch so very different from Allen’s. And God help her, but she was afraid she was going to do a very Southern thing and faint like some Scarlett O’Hara idiot. She fought it, fought the blackness. Instead she focused on dark, dark eyes, letting them fill her world, and waited for everything else to settle into quiet.

* * * *

Alex was still shaking as he showed the final member of the Atlanta PD out of his office. Who gave a fuck if it made him look weak? The sight of Cailin, pinned under that asshole, struggling to stop him from raping her—it was all he could think about. When he closed his eyes, it was seared into his eyelids. Even with his eyes open, it was hard to concentrate on anything else.

A soft touch on his forearm had him turning back to the room, realizing he was still standing, staring at the door.

“Alex, come sit down,” Sara Beth said.

His gaze flicked past her to the couch, where Cailin was huddled in a blanket. One side of her face was beginning to swell; no doubt a black eye would appear before tomorrow. The lump on the back of her head had concerned the EMT, but she’d refused to go to the hospital. From the way she’d shuddered at the slightest touch of anyone but him, Alex figured it was probably revulsion more than thinking she didn’t have a concussion that kept her away. He couldn’t blame her. She’d had enough hands on her this morning.