before taking a deep swallow. Glancing down at my arm, I saw the marks his fingers had left on my skin, which were rapidly turning into bruises. That made my eyes water even more.
Nothing like that had ever happened to me before. No one had ever deliberately hurt me, not physically, and it shook me more than I’d have thought possible. I felt vulnerable and very much alone.
A sudden pounding on my door startled me so badly that I dropped my glass. It shattered on the wooden floor. Glancing frantically around, I realized I had no weapon, nothing to defend myself. Spotting the butcher block on the counter, I grabbed the seven-inch-long chef’s knife.
The banging came again as I cautiously approached the door.
“Sage, are you in there? Sage!”
I sagged in relief. Parker. I didn’t question why he was there; I was just glad he was, and I threw open the door. As soon as I saw him, I started to cry.
“What happened? Are you okay?” He was inside in the blink of an eye. I was crying too hard to talk, so I just nodded. His lips thinned as he looked at me; then he carefully took the knife from the death grip I had on it, setting it aside. Wrapping his arms around me, he shushed me. “It’s all right.”
I huddled against his chest, tears leaking from my eyes that I knew would stain mascara on his shirt and I’d have to argue with the dry cleaners to have them get it out, but I didn’t care. His chin rested on the top of my head as he soothed me. I felt much better in his arms. Parker was tall and solidly built. Without my heels, the top of my head only reached his shoulder.
“You’re shaking,” he said, once my crying had devolved into sniffles. “Tell me what happened. I saw a man climb into the taxi with you. When you didn’t answer your phone, I drove over here.”
My phone. I’d forgotten to look and see who’d been calling me.
“He said he was with a client,” I said. “Your client. And that they valued their privacy. I’m supposed to tell you that they’re watching.” Leaning back, I looked up at him. “What does that mean? Do you know what he was talking about?”
The look on Parker’s face was grim. He produced a pocket square and wiped gently at my wet cheeks, dabbing the skin beneath my eyes. “Yeah. I do.”
When he said nothing more, I added, “He had a gun.”
Parker paused in his ministrations. “Did he hurt you?”
I shrugged. “Grabbed my arm. Just a few bruises.” I tried to brush it off, but the quaver in my voice betrayed me.
He muttered a curse under his breath, pulling away to inspect my arm, his fingers exceedingly gentle on the abused skin. His jaw locked tight and I knew him well enough to know he was furious.
“I’ll take care of it,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. “They won’t hurt you again.”
I nodded. “Okay.” My voice wasn’t that strong and I took a ragged breath. I didn’t know what was going on or what he planned to do, but I trusted Parker that if he said he’d take care of it, then he would.
Turning away, I crouched down on the floor and started picking up glass. Thankfully, the glass had been heavy so was just in a few big pieces rather than tiny shards. To my surprise, Parker helped, and a few minutes later it was cleaned up.
“Why don’t you go change,” he suggested, tossing the last of the glass into the garbage. “I’ll pour you another drink.”
That sounded wonderful and I didn’t argue. In my bedroom, I discarded the skirt and blouse, pulling on a pair of faded denim shorts and a White Sox T-shirt I’d had for years. I sighed when I took down my up-do, running a brush through my long hair. Not professional, but I didn’t care. My makeup had streaks so I washed it all off, feeling much better by the time I stepped back into my living room.
I noticed Parker had poured me another drink, and himself one, too. Glancing up, he caught sight of me. His gaze made a quick trip down my body and back up, but he didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what he’d expected me to change into, but it certainly wasn’t going to be another skirt and heels.
“Here you go,” he said, rounding the kitchen counter and handing me