Chapter 2

• Chapter Two
• “Some finale night!” Damien grumbled yanking off his shirt and tossing it on a chair.
• He was back in his hotel room, alone, after his date’s boyfriend showed up during dinner. Sexy Amy from California hadn’t bothered to share that piece of information with him until it was too late. He’d put the boyfriend flat on the ground with his arms twisted behind his back.
• Apparently, she wanted to find out if the stories were true—if black men did have larger than life dicks. The whole ‘once you go black you never go back’ saying had peeked a lot of curiosity if the equipment matched the mantra. When he told her he was half Japanese, she blatantly asked if that made it bigger or smaller. He would have happily shown her if her boyfriend hadn’t started whining about calling the cops on him for assault.
• He flopped back on his bed.
• Now he was back in his room, alone. The worst part, he had nothing to distract him from thinking about Miss Victoria Secret. The entire night he’d found himself wondering if she was okay, or if he’d made the right decision to let her go off with that oaf. And now that he was alone, he was drowning in unfamiliar worry for a woman he didn’t even know.
• The pounding on his door brought him out of his thoughts. Immediately he went into cop mode, pulling his gun out of his bedside drawer and cautiously moving towards the door.
• “What?” he barked.
• “Let me in. Please let me in!” the weepy urgent voice got to him.
• There was nothing he hated more than women being abused.
• He opened the door a crack, but she pushed it in, charging in and slamming the door shut. She pressed against it like she was trying to keep whatever was on the other side of the door from breaking it down and coming in. The midsection of her short torn nightgown had a huge blotch of blood and the neckline had dribbles from it. He knew that came from a bleeding nose or a cut lip. He could also take a lucky guess how she got it and it made him mad. But he was certain the blood didn’t come from her. She didn’t look like she had any major injuries, and she was standing upright not doubled over like she’d been stabbed. She might have got it defending herself. And judging by how she was reacting to the angry shouting on the other side of the door, whomever that blood belonged to was not one to mess with.
• They stood silently, waiting for the voices to fade away before Damien felt it was safe enough to move or speak. He wanted to hold her hand and lead her to the bed. But he knew that would be a bad idea. She was wound up so tight and shaking so badly a simple touch would either have her screaming and drawing the attention of the people looking for her or running out the door and right into their arms.
• “Ma’am, why don’t-” Damien stopped when she pushed her clammy hair out of her face and looked up at him. It was Victoria Secret.
• “Oh shit!”
• She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes glazed over. She was looking at him but wasn’t seeing him. Where was she in that pretty head of hers? Did she even realize the state she was in?
• Praying she wouldn’t scream, Damien cautiously placed his hand on her shoulder. She jumped, grabbing his hand and twisting it at the wrist. He pulled his hand out of her hold just in time, slightly taken aback. She would have had him on his knees maybe even broken his wrist if he hadn’t pulled away. He took several steps back, slipping the gun into the back of his pants before he held both his hands open palm out to her. If she knew that move, he was in no hurry to find out what else she knew if she felt threatened by the gun.
• “Hey, I don’t want to hurt you. You banged on my door remember?”
• That glazed look remained in her eyes a second longer before she blinked. Her eyes immediately filled with tears. And as if she’d just woken up from a nightmare, she rushed to him, slamming her body into his, breaking down in sobs, her arms wrapped tightly around him. He had one arm wrapped around her shoulders while his other hand covered the gun behind him just in case her hands slipped down and grabbed for it.
• “Help me!” she wept into his chest, her tears warm against his bare skin.
• Slowly, he led her backward until they got to the bed-side drawer where he deposited his gun before he lowered her onto the bed. But she immediately climbed into his lap, curling against him her head tucked under his chin. She wanted to be held, he realized, to feel safe again. Damien wrapped his arms around her. He was both sad and angry on her behalf. What exactly had happened to her to make her shake so bad? And what kind of mess had he gotten himself into by sheltering her?
• He pushed that question to the back of his mind, and holding her securely against him, he shifted back until he was leaning against the headboard. He pulled the bed cover over them, hoping it would help with her shakes but she quickly pushed it away. He wondered what she was about until she began yanking hard on her night gown.
• “Get it off! Get it off! It has blood on it, I don’t like blood!”
• Damien quickly ripped the unwanted thing over her head and tossed it as far away as he could then hurriedly covered her with an uncomfortable groan. She was naked except for the sexy lace panties he’d had a little peek at. He’d gotten a glimpse of something else. Everything he’d been admiring at the pool earlier that day, but it would be a dick ass move focusing on that at the moment, considering her current state of mind. But hell, he was no saint, especially with her perky breasts pressed against his bare chest. He kept his hands over the covers and soothingly caressed her back as he rocked side to side, hoping to lull her to sleep.
• A long ten minutes later, she stopped shaking and her body relaxed. The long breathes against his collar bone told him she’d finally succumbed to sleep. He made himself comfortable, turned on the television keeping the volume low, he watched a few late night shows. Considering the predicament they were in, falling asleep was the last thing he intended to do. He needed to be alert just in case the oaf and his partner came barging into his room. And in the spirit of being prepared, he opened the drawer pulled out the gun and placed it on top of the table, under the lamp and in easy reach.
• Hell, this was the last thing he needed on his last vacation day.