Rated: NC-17
ERASE & REWIND...VERSION 3, PART 12
"TAKING OFF THE MASK"
He opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, blinking and taking a moment to remember why he wasn't in his own bed…or even the bed of the guest room, for that matter.
For whatever reason he'd stopped at the couch. He was reluctant to own up to the fact that it was partly caused by his worry about wandering up the stairs after reading what the girl had been through. He wanted to say something to her about it. For Christ's sake, give her a hug or something and tell her he was sorry for what had happened to her. Try to offer even a small measure of comfort for all of it on top of the news she'd gotten about Esteridge…
But she was tipsy and wearing a miniskirt…she was in his bedroom…and truth be told, it had been a while.
So he remembered why he was down here, great.
Now why was he awake?
A small thud came from the ceiling above his head and instantly the fog of sleep cleared. His eyes flashed over to the alarm pad on the wall, squinting to make out the word "ARMED". It would have triggered if the doors or windows had been moved…but he knew better than to trust that alone with Guarino's men.
As silently as possible he retrieved his gun from the office, something that had become necessary over the years as guys he'd had locked up were released.
Shit, he chided himself, he should have been upstairs.
The hardwood floors were cool beneath his bare feet and he was at least thankful that by now he'd learned every creak and groan of the stairs so that he could avoid them. He was still wearing his slacks, which was a plus since he hated the thought of dying in boxers, the buttons of his shirt were undone and he pulled it off and dropped it in the hall. His undershirt would provide enough cover to make the thought of Hechler discovering his body a bit more tolerable, but without the dress shirt he'd have better range of motion with his arms.
His heart was in his throat, his eyes wide and searching for any hint of movement in the darkness. A pang of guilt was all but stealing his breath at the thought of her being murdered, after surviving the rest of it, just because he'd convinced her to testify…
Taking a deep breath he pushed the door to his bedroom, immediately fighting back fear for her as he found the bed disheveled…but empty.
"Shit." He mouthed silently, grinding his teeth and leaning into the room slowly, not allowing any part of his body to pass the door until he was certain no one was waiting behind it.
At an agonizingly slow pace he entered the room, seeing the bathroom door closed over halfway…just enough to make it a potential threat.
Screw it; what did he have to live for anyway? He thought sarcastically, taking a step toward it until…over the thundering of his heart in his ears…
A whimper…
A sniffle…
His brows drew together as he turned back toward the bed. He'd definitely heard it. With his finger still on the trigger he backed toward the sound, holding his breath and expecting the worst as he reached the other side.
"Hey…" She said softly and he exhaled.
No blood, no intruder holding her at knife point…
"Hey." He said back with a sigh, putting the safety on the gun and looking around the room one last time before setting it down on the bedside table. He switched on the light and it took him a moment to even recognize her.
Apparently fresh from a shower, her hair was damp and wavy. Her face lacked even a trace of the makeup she'd worn earlier, like she'd finally taken off the mask she'd been hiding behind.
This was Alisha staring back at him for the first time, no strong fronts or attitude, no smart-assed remarks…just the woman behind the BadGirl.
He couldn't help but smile and arch a brow as he knelt in front of her and noted her current…attire. One of his dress shirts covered her to mid-thigh, the top few buttons undone.
Victoria's Secret had nothing on a woman wearing one of his shirts.
She noticed his reaction and blushed, ever so slightly, which shocked the hell out of him. Her voice was soft and barely audible as she explained. "I'm sorry…I don't usually wear anything to bed…I figured I should put something on to cover up. I hope you don't mind."
"No, no…it looks infinitely better on you anyway." He said with a smile and she forced one in return…the action making the tears that were filling her eyes more noticeable. McNorris sighed. "Are you maybe just a little bit drunk right now?" He asked slowly and she nodded her head emphatically. "Alright, you're more than a little bit…so…what are you doing down here?"
Her bottom lip trembled; it was more adorable than it had a right to be. In fact the entire vision of her in that moment was. Oversized shirt, dripping wet hair, soulful eyes and pouty mouth.
It had definitely been a while.
"I ran out of booze." She whimpered, motioning to the empty bottles to her side and his eyes widened.
"You drank all of that?...Tonight?" He asked in disbelief as he lifted a few of them for inspection. Grey Goose, Schnapps, Chambord, Tequila…the girl had a freaking arsenal of alcohol hidden in her bags.
She nodded, tears falling down her face as she started to loose it.
"And I really need a cigarette and I didn't want to smoke in your house because you don't smoke but I didn't want to open a window and trip the alarm and I didn't want to wake you up since you looked so peaceful down there and there is NO food in your fridge and I can't find anything to distract myself and…" She was bawling by the time she took a breath, her voice straining as she fought back a sob and finished. "Your VCR won't work." She held up the tape and let out a long whimper as she closed her eyes and tried to get her tears back under control.
"I still own a VCR?" He asked in mock disbelief, giving humor a try to cheer her up.
It didn't work.
"Oh God…" She sobbed and let the tape slide to the floor by her side as she covered her eyes and let it out, her body quaking as she wept uncontrollably.
McNorris bit his lip.
Hesitantly he reached a hand out to her trembling shoulder. "Hey…hey, it's okay…" He said softly.
Nope, not helping.
He rolled his eyes and prayed for strength.
Slowly…cautiously…he put a hand on her other shoulder and started to pull her toward him. In an instant she was in his arms, hanging onto him and sobbing incoherently. Something about 'deserving this' and 'shouldn't even bother'…
"Shh…it's alright, sweetie…it's gonna be alright…" He soothed, feeling completely useless here and hoping he was helping. He wasn't really the 'shoulder to cry on' type.
But he must have been doing something right because the instant he brought his arms down around her she nuzzled against him like life itself. He sat back on the floor and pulled her up into his lap, forcing himself to ignore the feeling of her bare legs beneath his hands as he did it.
She stayed like that for almost a half an hour, the glowing red digits on the alarm clock beside him telling him as much and finally, slowly, the trembling of her shoulders began to die down. He sighed thinking it was over…
Until her whimpers began to change pitch…
His brows drew together and then arched in surprise as he listened closely and caught a soft moan beside his ear.
Uh oh.
The hammered little scantily clad blonde in his lap had just taken notice of his bare shoulders, the scent of his cologne and skin…and before he knew it her hands were wandering up to the back of his head as her mouth began leaving a trail of hot kisses across the nape of his neck, more breathy little moans escaping her as she did.
His eyes rolled closed and he exhaled choppily, his jaw dropping open as his body instantly accepted her invitation.
By some miracle, likely stemming from his total sobriety and her complete lack there of he snapped out of it.
"Hey…no, no, no, no, no….okay, somebody's had a few too many…" He said as he pulled her away from him. Her eyes were opened just barely as she looked up at him and he smiled. "You need to get back into bed, sweetheart…and you need to do it without me." He heard himself say and figured somebody up there had been listening to his prayers for help on this one.
As gently as possible he urged her to stand, which at this point was pretty much entirely of his volition. He rested her back on the bed and pulled up the covers, part of him dreading having to have a discussion with her in this thoroughly inebriated state that he wasn't Esteridge…
But by the time he'd pulled the blanket up to her shoulders she was out like a light.
He let out a deep breath and eyed her sympathetically; she had a hell of a lot on her plate. It took longer than it should have to get his legs to carry him out of the room, and as he reached over to turn off the light and pick up his gun he was floored to catch himself leaning down and kissing her forehead.
Oh yeah, the thoughts in his mind went beyond attorney/client privilege.
He shook his head at himself as he closed the door and went to try and get some sleep.
