Exposure (25 page)

She looked down to find blood on the front
of her mint green dress. Panic clawed at her throat. But…

No holes. No pain. The cold numbness of
shock began to recede. "Not mine," she whispered. "Not mine."

She shoved Noah aside and crawled to Max,
still laying on his back. Her trembling hands, red with blood,
cupped his cheeks. "Max?"

"I'm fine…Miss Crowne," he grit through
clenched teeth. "A through and through. Don't think the bullet hit
anything vital."

She looked down where his large hand covered
his side. Blood seeped out from under his fingers. "Oh God,
no
. You got shot."

"Raven." Noah touched her shoulder, but she
shrugged him off. Max was hurt and it was her fault. He had
protected her, shoving her to the ground and covering her body.
Just like…

Just like her father had done all those
years ago in that bunker.

Guilt slammed into her, churning her
stomach. "Let me see, Max." She eased his hand away. Blood oozed
from a small hole. So much blood. His white dress shirt clung to
his skin, soaked. Anger and panic rose up to choke her. She pressed
her palm to the wound. "You idiot! You got shot. For me?"

Max slid his gaze to hers, his hand covering
hers on his wound. "Worth it. Just doing my job. Will be…good as
new tomorrow."

The past few minutes caught up with her and
she broke. Tears blurred her eyes.

Two of their guards knelt beside Max. One
gently took her wrist and removed her hand from Max's side. He
pressed a towel to the area with enough pressure for Max to grunt.
"Medic's on the way."

"Raven, baby. Let me look at you. Are you
hurt?"

She whirled and wrapped her arms around
Noah's neck, burying her face in his shoulder. "No. I'm…not hurt."
Terrified and sick with guilt and confused, but not hurt. Absorbing
his warmth, his safe embrace, she breathed him in and clung.

He cradled her to his hard body, standing
and backing them away from his team. Pulling her from him, he
cupped her cheeks. His gaze dropped as if to verify she was
okay.

"Are you sure?" Frenetic worry rounded his
eyes, wrinkled his brows. He looked on the verge of homicidal and
more than a little lost when his jaw clenched. His hands shook
against her cheeks. Tension radiated off him in thready pulses.

She swiftly nodded, wanting to assure him
and concerned about his mindset. He was the steady one, the rock.
If he crumbled, there was no hope for them tonight. More tears
spilled, trekking down her cheeks. She looked around, seeing Nicole
with a group of people standing outside talking to an officer.
Relief flooded her.

"Ah, fuck." Noah hauled her to him, arms
banding her back. "I thought he got you," he whispered for her ears
only. "I thought he got you."

She closed her eyes to the desperate tone in
his voice and hugged him back, still reeling from the events.
Breathing in his cinnamon scent, she tried to uncoil the muscles
straining her neck and shoulders. Noah had her in his strong arms.
She was okay. He was okay.

"I'm fine, Noah."

"You guys sure know how to throw a party." A
man strode over to them, stepping around glass shards. His gait was
lithe, like that of a martial arts practitioner. Tan suit wrinkled,
tie askew, he shook his head. His dark blond hair was graying at
the temples and his mouth had fine wrinkles at the corners. Dark
brown eyes surveyed the room and fell back on them. "Everyone all
right?"

Noah tensed and turned. "What the fuck,
McCannon? I thought you had men outside? How did he get a
shot?"

McCannon put an unlit cigarette between his
lips and left it there as he spoke. "We did, and your men were out
there, too. He was tucked into a back alley."

Raven regarded the man Noah referenced as
his FBI contact. He was in his mid-forties and, though he had a
screw-all demeanor, his eyes said he carried a piece of every case
with him.

Two paramedics brought in a stretcher and
got to work helping Max. Tears threatened again. He'd put himself
between her and a bullet. The realization of "his job," as he'd put
it, slammed into her. Max could've died. Protecting her. She
pressed a palm to her forehead.

Noah slid his arm around her waist and
looked down at her.

McCannon pulled out his phone, swiped the
screen, and turned it toward her, holding it out. "Have you seen
this guy hanging around?"

The wanna-be artist who gave her the
creeps.

She nodded. "He's been in here a few times.
He…wanted a showing." She looked between the two men. "He said his
name was Vincent Soreno. Who is he?"

"Vincent Soreno is right. We're pretty
confident he's the hired assassin." McCannon sighed. "Dumb shit
didn't even bother to change his name."

Noah tensed. "That
dumb shit
just
shot through a window with five bodyguards inside and three FBI
agents outside. He nearly put holes in her. And me. He
did
shoot one of my men."

McCannon pocketed his phone. "We'll get him.
He got away by the skin of his teeth."

"Pardon me if I don't hold my breath." Noah
pulled them out of the way when the paramedics brought Max by on a
stretcher. He set his hand on Max's shoulder and squeezed, quiet
appreciation in his eyes.

Raven eased out from under Noah's arm and
leaned over the stretcher. Having no idea what to say to Max, she
smiled. He was pale, but didn't appear to be in much pain. "Thank
you. I'm sorry I called you an idiot. You scared me."

He waved her comment aside. "See you
tomorrow, Miss Crowne."

"You will not."

He smiled and winced. "Day after, then."

She stood and watched them wheel her
bodyguard away, everything so surreal. Red and blue lights. Glass
everywhere. Blood on the floor. On her hands.

"Come on, baby. Let's get you home."

***

N
oah sat on the bed
and stripped off his tie. After the shooting, he couldn't stomach
the thought of staying in Anchorage, so he had their driver take
them right to the airport and, by helicopter, they flew to Aubrey's
Castle. Thankfully, his niece slept through the noise and allowed
him and Raven to enter the third floor suite without interruption.
He was hoping he'd be in a better frame of mind in the morning.

Listening to the water from Raven's shower,
he stripped out of his clothes and tried to block the images from
earlier from his mind. But they kept coming. Raven with a scope
target on her chest. Her underneath Max on the floor. Noah being
too far away for too long, wondering if she'd been hurt.
Agonizingly long moments where he hadn't known if she was alive or
dead.

Running his hands through his hair, he
flopped onto his back. If Max hadn't been so close to her, it
could've been her that had been shot, with a much more fatal wound.
He pressed his palms to his eyes, remembering the heart-stopping
moment he thought she'd been hit. He hadn't drawn breath since. Was
still suffocating.

He should've never touched her. Never
brought her into this mess. He'd been selfish and, because of him,
she could've died. All his security and the damn FBI, and the
bastard almost got her. Most importantly, he'd never aimed for
Noah, confirming his belief that Rizzoli was out to take her from
him as punishment. Revenge.

The water shut off. He tried to get himself
together for when she stepped out of the bathroom, but it was
futile. Blood all over her. The gunshot still ringing in his ears.
The desperate, frightened look on her face.

Fuck it. He should leave her here. She'd
bitch and moan, but she'd be alive. There were no accessible roads.
The only way in or out was to fly. A full security team,
bullet-proof windows, alarm system, and panic room. She'd hate him
for taking her away from the gallery, from her life, but she'd be
alive.

The bathroom door opened with a quiet click,
steam billowing out as Raven emerged with a towel around her
middle. From his prone position on the bed, he held his breath when
she stopped in her tracks. Her gaze raked over his naked form, not
a sensual exploration, but a full study.

Worry ratcheted in his gut. She hadn't said
much since they'd left the gallery. Her creamy skin tone was paler
than her norm, her pretty eyes distant and unfocused with shadows
under them. He had the distinct impression she thought this was all
her fault. It made him sick.

"I don't have any clothes," she said at
last. Her voice was flat, as if mustering any emotion took too much
effort.

"We'll find you something to get by." He sat
up and braced his elbows on his thighs, scrubbing his hands over
his face. He'd thrown away the dress she'd worn tonight, but he
hadn't thought to stop by the condo and get her some things. He'd
just wanted her as far away from there as possible.

"Do we know how Max is doing? Can we call
the hospital?"

"In the morning, baby." The shot passed
through Max's side and exited into a wall. Judging by the location
of the wound, Noah doubted the bullet had hit anything vital. Max
was ex-military and tougher than steel. He'd be okay.

Yet his bodyguard had softened toward Raven
since under her detail. Max looked at her with amusement and
adoration. Not romantic by any sense, but he was growing to care
for her a great deal. Just tonight, after the agents had the scene
secured, Max had checked her out first before succumbing to his
injury and standing down. Helpless, Noah had watched from under the
bodies of his own security men, needing to get to her.

Looking at her now, Noah could understand
why Max liked her so much. Hell, it was impossible not to love
Raven Crowne. Hadn't he tried for years to deny his feelings?

She stared at the bed, unmoving, not
blinking, as if trapped in her memory. He had to do something to
snap her out of this, but he wasn't right in the head either.
Something told him if he didn't act fast, all their progress would
regress. She'd be afraid of touch again, of submitting her body to
pleasure. Worse, she'd panic and find a way to call off the
relationship.

Unsure of what to do, he stared at the
floor. Hell, if he could find a way for her to unsee everything, to
just lose herself in his touch and…

He straightened, looking at his necktie he'd
tossed aside. "Raven, come here."

Like a robot, she walked over to stand
between his knees.

Gently, he released her hold on the towel
and let it drop. "Trust me, baby."

Finally, she looked him in the eye, but
there was nothing in hers. A blank page. He'd seen the look before,
when her depression had a stronghold and she was too tired to
struggle. Yet it had been years since it had metastasized, and the
fact that it was here now had his own panic tripping. He could do
everything in his power to keep her safe, take care of her by
making her eat and sleeping next to her for comfort, but he
couldn't fight this for her.

She blinked slowly, as if to question what
he said. "I do trust you."

Of that, he had little doubt. But his
beautiful woman still didn't trust herself. "Lay down on the bed
for me."

She crawled to the center of the mattress
and lay on her back, watching him. He walked to the closet and
grabbed another tie, then picked up the other one he'd dropped
before making his way back to the bed with both. She swallowed
hard, trekking his movements, and he swore a flash of heat and
curiosity lit her eyes before it was gone.

"Put your hands up over your head." He kept
his voice calm, but authoritative.

She stared at him long moments, biting her
bottom lip. "What are you going to do?" Judging by her expression,
she knew exactly what he intended. And she wasn't saying no.

He straddled her hips, keeping his weight on
his knees and off of her. Laying one tie over her breasts, he ran
the other through his fingers. "I'm going to bind your hands to the
headboard. You'll be able to get free at any time. And then I'm
going to blindfold you."

He had no clue if this would work. She'd
either give in to her body's needs and succumb to passion or she'd
snap and slip further into her head. After everything they'd been
through, it was time to take her here, like this. Time to give her
the ultimate test.

Her throat worked a swallow. A shallow
breath escaped her parted lips. She was not unaffected. Color rose
in her cheeks as she eyed the tie, then brought her arms up over
her head, crossing her wrists.

His shaft thickened in response. Leaning
forward, he bound her wrists together and threaded the tie through
the headboard rail. She tested the strength, but didn't remove her
hands from the loose knot. Then he held up the other tie, carefully
covering her eyes and knotting it behind her head.

Her lips parted in a sharp gasp. He brushed
his thumb over her bottom lip and grew harder when she sucked it
into her mouth.

He ran the heel of his hand over his swollen
cock. "You know your safeword."

"Yes." She bit her lip again. "I…don't need
it."

He ran his gaze down the length of her.
Hands tied, blind to his movements, and still trusting him. Her
breasts rose and fell in a fast rhythm, thrust out for his viewing
pleasure from her position. The dark rose of her nipples puckered,
begging to be sucked.

All night. He could do this all night. Fuck,
he wanted his camera.

Placing his palms on the bed, he leaned in
to speak against her lips. "You are so fucking beautiful,
baby."

R
aven let out an
uneven breath against Noah's lips, his words ringing in her ears.
To him, she was beautiful. Not a head case or too much effort. Even
though she knew her attributes, he was the first man to make her
feel beautiful. And, it seemed, she was enough for him.