Ruthless

Chapter 11

Colin stood outside the club where Shannon worked. Shannon wasn't the name she went by inside, of course. He was one of the lucky few who knew her real name. She'd told him around the fifth time they'd been together. A small sign of trust between two people who used each other for a good time.

He should march straight in there and pull Shannon aside, but for some stupid reason he stood there like a moron out on the street. Damn it. He wanted this. His cock had been a constant reminder during the day of how long it had been since he'd been laid. Hell, just holding Jean's hand on that plane had been enough to get him on high alert. He needed something to take the edge off.

He started to cross to the entrance of the building before he turned around and headed back to the hotel. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath as he quickened his pace. "Fuck," he repeated, running a hand through his hair. This was such bullshit. He should be half naked right now with a beautiful blonde with the body of a Victoria Secret model, not angrily walking down the city streets alone.

Except the only body he could think of at the moment was Jean's. Between her fitted t-shirts and tight pants, his mind had conjured up exactly what he thought she'd looked like naked, and ever since he'd gotten that mental picture, he hadn't been able to stop envisioning her doing all sorts of things.

"Fuck..." He could power through this, though. Or, better yet, he could make a move on her. Chances were that she'd punch him in the face and that would be that.

But then he thought back to the kiss just a few hours ago. She hadn't punched him then. She'd grabbed his shoulders and pulled him closer... Maybe working off some of his stress with her wasn't such a bad idea. They had a hard time getting along, but obviously there was some sort of mutual attraction. If the only thing they could agree on was sex, why not explore that option?

Just thinking about Jean saying yes had him walking faster. Maybe he could make it back to the room before she was asleep.

Before Jean could run from the stranger in front of her, his fist connected with her face in a fierce backhand. She stumbled backward, the closed closet doors the only things stopping her from tripping over her feet.

But the assailant was on her before she'd recovered. He wrapped an arm around her throat and hauled her deeper into her room. She immediately went into a full fight response and kicked and bucked and struggled against his grasp. But every time she moved, his grip on her throat seemed to tighten. It was as if the harder she fought, the worse it got.

Oh God. This was it. She was going to die in some stupid hotel room and then she and Colin would never get their stupid inheritance and she'd never get her stupid burger...

His grip tightened and all air was cut off. No... She couldn't fight hard. She had to fight smart. Jean gave herself the briefest second to get control of herself...to fight through the fear overwhelming her and try to think. She was in the middle of the room and nothing was within reach. She needed to go for his face.

Not able to wait any longer, she swung again, this time aiming for his eyes. She must've startled him a bit, because he loosened his grip while he fought off her flailing hands.

He cursed under his breath as he tried to readjust his grip so he could hold onto one of her hands and keep his chokehold.

Except the second he had her hands, she'd be helpless. She kept trying to scratch at his face; her nails made contact a few times, but the assailant had had enough. He grunted before he threw her away from him and slammed her into the floor.

Jean tried to land on her hands and knees but ended up taking the brunt of the force in her shoulder. The man stood over her before she could get back on her feet. His arm stretched back, and she knew he was going to hit her again. Once he hit her, who knew when he'd stop?

So she did the one thing she could think of. She screamed at the top of her lungs while she lifted her arms up to cover her face. She stayed like that as the seconds stretched out, waiting for the blows to start. But before anything happened, a loud crash sounded. Jean took her arms away from her face and stared in the corner of the room, where Colin and the strange man were fighting.

Well, fighting wasn't a fair word. Fighting is what she'd been doing. This guy never stood a chance against Colin. It looked as though he'd slammed the guy into the desk hard enough to crack the wood and send the lamp crashing to the ground. From there, Colin held the man by his collar and hit him over and over. The guy wasn't putting up any fight by now...probably was barely conscious.

"Colin." Jean pushed herself up.

He stopped, fist midair, to look over at her, a dark, deadly calm look in his eyes. As though it were someone else in her room, and not the Colin she knew.

She held up her hands. "Hey there. I'm okay..." she said softly. "Let's just call the police."

Colin took a deep breath and looked back at the man slumped against the desk. "Okay. Go call the front desk and tell them we need the police. Do it from my room."

She looked at the phone next to her bed but thought better of it. If Colin wanted some time alone, she'd let him have it. Considering the intense mood he was in, she didn't want to fight him on anything.

After making the call, she came back into her room. Colin was in the exact same spot. The attacker was half unconscious, but Jean was more than happy to let Colin stand guard over him.

She wrapped her arms around herself. She would've grabbed her sweater, but it was on the floor now behind where the men were, so it would just have to stay over there. "Friend of yours?" She looked at the clock, trying to decide how long it would take the police to get there.

Colin reached down and pulled a wallet out of the man's jacket pocket. He looked to be mid to late thirties and had scraggly black hair with a black mustache and olive-looking skin. She didn't remember what color his eyes were, and judging from the beating he'd gotten from Colin, he wouldn't be able to open them fully for weeks.

"I don't know him," said Colin briskly. "Pack up your stuff," he ordered.

Jean looked around the room, where she hadn't really unpacked anything. "Where are we going to go?"

"We're going to my apartment."

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