“What’s wrong?” As always, he’d sensed her disquiet and responded immediately, ready to handle whatever problem was bothering her. He’d been that way since she was a child.
Some kids in the neighborhood might have been neglected or abused, but not Alex. Her earliest memory was of her father caring for her, loving her. She’d even been home-schooled, learning how to read and write in this very room. There had been field trips to the Art Institute of Chicago, the Harold Washington Library and the Lincoln Park Zoo. He’d taken her to the theatre and to hear opera and blues music. And since the ballpark was close by, they’d spent many an afternoon cheering on the White Sox.
As she’d grown older, he’d taught her how to fix cars and how to survive. She knew how to defend herself, how to handle a knife and how to shoot a gun. It was the two of them against the world.
And now he was waiting for a response from her. He’d wait all day if he had to. He was nothing if not patient. Not to mention stubborn. She knew because she was just like him. She shrugged. “Nothing.”
His eyes narrowed and his lips pursed into a thin line. She sighed and shook her head. She was a grown woman, but she still couldn’t manage to hide anything from her father. “Okay, it’s just a feeling.”
“What kind of feeling?” He picked up his coffee and handed it to her when she shivered again.
Taking it gratefully, she gulped down the warm brew, needing the heat as well as the caffeine kick. “Just uneasiness.” She hesitated briefly, but in the end, told him the truth. “This morning, I felt like someone was watching me.”
“You’ll move back in with me for a few weeks.” It was a pronouncement, not a suggestion.
As much as Alex loved her small apartment and her privacy, she wasn’t stupid. The feeling of apprehension, coupled with the sense of being watched this morning, had really creeped her out. If there were strangers skulking around the neighborhood like Divine said, then maybe it wouldn’t hurt to stay with her dad for a while. Gang violence didn’t often spill over into their neighborhood, but it did happen.
“Okay, I’ll stay tonight. Just until things settle down again.” If she weren’t careful, her father would have her moved back in with him permanently. She loved him dearly, but she needed her own space, and he tended to be overprotective.
Taking the empty cup from her hand, he chucked it in the garbage bin and drew her into his strong arms. She snuggled close, breathing in his familiar smell of engine oil and sandalwood soap. That smell meant home to her. His lips brushed the top of her hair. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“I know,” she whispered. And she did know. Her father would protect her with his life. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“Maybe.” He released her and stepped back. “But I’m not taking any chances. I’ve been feeling a bit uneasy myself the past few days. I’ll go back to your place with you after work so that you can pick up a few things.”
If her father was on edge she needed to pay attention, even if it meant curtailing her independence for a short while. James Riley had an uncanny way of being able to read the vibes of the city, knowing when violence was about to erupt. Illegal drugs and liquor often mixed with anger and despair, and sometimes the combination was lethal.
Her father jerked his head toward the back room. “I’ve got a small bag of coffee out back if you want some.”
“Do I ever. You’re a lifesaver.” Alex licked her lips. The taste she’d had was just enough to make her crave more. She watched as her father opened the brown paper bag and withdrew the muffins she’d picked up. “I’d better start a pot of coffee. Those few mouthfuls won’t hold either one of us for long.”
Leaving his watchful eyes behind, she hurried into the office area and grabbed the empty carafe. Stepping into the small bathroom, she thrust it beneath the water tap, allowing her thoughts to wander as it filled.
Alex was still no closer to knowing exactly why she was so edgy. The hair on the back of her neck seemed to be standing permanently on end, and on occasion she experienced a rippling beneath her skin that raised goose bumps on her flesh.
She hadn’t felt like herself for a few weeks now. The changes had been so gradual she hadn’t really noticed them at first. It was as if her senses were heightened. Her skin felt too tight and at night it itched, not enough to make her scratch, but just enough to make her squirm.
The worst of it was the heat.
Lying alone in her single bed at night, a warm tingling would start between her thighs, little more than a flutter at first. Gradually the tingle became a deep, pulsing throb that made her writhe on top of her sheets, unable to bear even the light touch of the fabric against her skin.
The warmth grew within her, building rapidly until her skin felt as if it was on fire. Like a living creature, the heat slid over her belly, climbing up her ribs one at a time, until it enveloped her breasts. Her nipples puckered and tightened painfully. The only way to relieve the ache was for her to touch herself.
Only it never really helped, instead it drove the heat and need to higher levels. After the first few times it had happened, she’d learned to hold on tight to the sheets and ride out the painful desires that splintered through her, finally ending her nights sweat-soaked and completely exhausted.
The familiar heat washed over her now. Her nipples stiffened, pressing against the fabric of her cheap cotton bra. Low in her belly, her inner muscles spasmed and her panties grew damp. She jerked her hand back as the water spilled over the side of the carafe. Swearing, she hauled it back and gave the tap a twist, stopping the water flow.
Pouring out the excess, she strode back into the office. She dumped the water into the coffeemaker and slammed the carafe down onto the burner, wincing at the loud crack. She was damned lucky she hadn’t broken it. Grabbing the small bag of coffee, she opened it. The rich smell of coffee wafted up and she breathed deeply, inhaling the fragrant aroma. She found a spoon and loaded ground coffee into the filter. Flicking on the machine, she prayed it would be quick.
Stepping back to the doorway separating the garage from the office, she leaned against the doorframe and studied her father. He was about six-foot-two. She’d gotten her height from him. At five-foot-ten, she was tall for a woman. She’d also inherited his strong, lithe build. Her father was deceptively strong. Many larger men had made the mistake of challenging him to a fight, assuming he’d be an easy mark. They quickly figured out their mistake.
They had the same colored hair too—brown, but with just about every shade or variation of that color from amber to mahogany. Her father’s shoulder-length hair was tied back in a thong, but it was tinged with silver at the temples, making his appearance even fiercer. Alex kept her hair cut short on the back and sides, longer on the top. Made it easier to take care of. She wasn’t the type of woman to waste money on expensive beauty products or to primp in front of a mirror. Strictly a wash-and-go girl, the style suited her just fine.
Their eyes were very different. Her father’s eyes were a piercing golden brown while hers were a pale, silvery gray. James Riley’s eyes were always searching, always aware of his surroundings, but when they settled on you it was as if he could see into your very soul.
For about the thousandth time, she wondered why he’d never married. Heck, he’d never even had a steady girlfriend. She wasn’t stupid. She knew that he went out prowling some nights and enjoyed female company, but he never brought any of them home. Did he ever get lonely?
Her mother had been a prostitute who’d tried to go straight and had gotten pregnant. When James Riley had discovered he was the father, he’d taken her into his home and looked after her until she’d had the baby. She’d run off just two days after Alex was born, unable to cope with motherhood. She’d never met the woman, didn’t know if she was even still alive and, truthfully, didn’t care. Having a kid to raise certainly hadn’t helped her father find a woman. Yet, he never once made her feel as though he’d have it any other way.