by Lori Foster
He stepped closer and Celia stepped back. She was very afraid. “You mean, you made this up?” While she spoke, she looked around, trying to find some avenue of escape. Not a single hope presented itself. The furniture all looked heavy and masculine. A few statuettes were placed in the corners, and there were heavy ceramic ashtrays on the tables, along with tall deco lamps and a few books.
They were on the ground floor, and a loft was overhead, but there didn’t appear to be any exits from there, just the bedroom.
She glanced back to see Giles watching her closely, his expression expectant. He wanted her to try something, she realized. He wanted her afraid and running, so he could chase her down. Instead, she looked directly at him, waiting for an answer.
His smile wavered slightly. “No, of course not. But our guests will come later. Much later.”
When the back of her knees hit the sofa, her eyes widened. “Later? But it’s almost midnight already.”
“Did you have other plans?” He slowly, carefully, took her hands in his, as if savoring the moment.
Celia remembered how this particular man reacted to a woman’s fear. By backing away from him, she’d added to his enjoyment of the moment. No more; she wouldn’t give him what he wanted, either physically or emotionally.
What would Alec do now? How would he react if he were here?
Trying to clear her mind, Celia forced a smile and abruptly sat down, curling close in the corner of the sofa. She stretched her arms out, at her leisure. The fingertips of her left hand touched the edge of the heavy ashtray, but she couldn’t get a good grip on it without being obvious.
Trying to look coy and stall for time, she said, “You really went to all this trouble just for me?”
Eyes narrowed, Giles suddenly reached down and jerked her to her feet. As if impassioned, he pulled her close and said against her mouth, “I want you so damn bad, I’d do just about anything to see it happen.” She twisted and his mouth landed on her cheek. “Believe me, I don’t usually react this way with the models. But you’re different, so lovely and innocent…”
“No!”
One of his hands held the back of her neck with painful force, keeping her from turning her face away from his mouth, while the other clutched at her bottom. He wasn’t much taller than her and when he yanked her close, her body came into vivid contact with his from knees to breasts. Her stomach jolted sickly, her skin crawled.
Celia cried out. Reacting solely on instinct, her intentions flown with her panic, she fought him. Though he might look soft and ineffectual, he was a man with a man’s strength. He laughed, and when his mouth touched hers again, she bit him.
Giles became giddy, delighted with her fight. “Marc told me I should wait, that I shouldn’t rush you. But I knew he was wrong, I knew you’d be perfect.”
His hand knotted in her hair and pulled her head back so he could stare down at her breasts. Her scalp burned, but worse than that, she felt his mouth, wet and hot, on her flesh and she simply couldn’t stand it.
Allowing her knees to buckle, she dropped, giving him all her weight and losing a lot of hair in the process. He stumbled, trying to hold on to her, but they both fell to the carpet. Celia immediately scrambled back, Giles grabbing for her kicking legs, and when she reached for the table and felt the ashtray, she didn’t hesitate. She swung it hard at his head. Giles chuckled, ducking, but the idiot wasn’t fast enough. Her next swing hit him in the side of the head with a sickening thunk. He stared blankly at her for only a moment, then his eyes rolled back and he slumped to the carpet.
Celia scrambled to her feet. The crop top to her pantsuit was torn, one shoulder seam hanging so low her nipple was barely covered. Trembling from head to toe, she tried to pull it up, but it kept falling back. She heaved, trying to breathe, trying to get her mind to settle so she could think. All she wanted was to run away, but she wouldn’t get far on foot and she didn’t know if he’d wake soon and come after her.
She thought about hitting him again, but couldn’t bring herself to bludgeon him while he was already unconscious. Swallowing back the tears that would do her no good, she flexed her shoulders, trying to think.
Keys. She’d take his keys and drive away. Not wanting to, but seeing no help for it, she dropped to her knees beside Giles and tried to decide which pocket he’d put the keys in. She was just reaching for him when the door opened and she gave a startled scream, her wild gaze flying up to see who had entered.
Jacobs stood there, his long-fingered hand wrapped tight around Hannah’s arm. His gaze moved from Celia, her hair tossed, her makeup ruined, her clothes torn, to Giles out cold on the floor, his temple swollen and spotted with blood. He shook his head in disgust. “I told that damn idiot to wait, but he wouldn’t listen.”
The door slammed behind him and he roughly shoved Hannah into the room. The girl tripped and almost fell but Celia caught her, helping her to regain her balance. Very slowly, she faced Jacobs, stepping in front of Hannah.
“What are you doing here?”
With two fingers, Jacobs help up the piece of paper she’d given to Hannah. “Conspiring against me, weren’t you?”
The bottom dropped out of her stomach. “Hannah had nothing to do with that. I just wanted—”
“Sit down and shut up.” Jacobs pulled a gun from inside his suitcoat and waved it at the two women. Trying to stay calm, Celia took Hannah’s hand and led her to the sofa. The poor girl was trembling all over, her face totally leeched of color.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered to Celia, shaking her head. “I knew what was happening and I wanted to help you. I didn’t mean for him to find out…”
“Shhh. I know. It’s all right.”
Jacobs nudged Giles with his foot, and was rewarded with a moan. “Get up you ass, or I’ll shoot you to save myself the bother of dealing with your idiocy.”
Giles moaned again and very gingerly pulled himself into a sitting position. His hand touched his head, and then recognition came. “The little bitch hit me!”
“She did better than that. She knocked you out cold.” Jacobs smirked. “Doesn’t say much for your seductive powers, now does it?”
Giles roared to his feet, his face bright red with both pain and humiliation. As he lurched toward Celia, sure death in his eyes, she pressed herself back on the sofa. But Jacobs brought him up short with a fist knotted in his collar. “No, don’t touch her yet. There’s something you need to know.”
Giles, heaving in his anger, turned to stare at Jacobs. “Well?”
“Your warehouse caught fire again.”
“What!”
“I don’t know all the details yet. But evidently whoever set that little fire at the studio returned.” Jacobs grinned at Giles’s horrified expression and then flicked a glance at Celia. “It’s lucky for you, Blair, that I keep my own files because you’ve had a total loss.”
Stammering in his grief, Giles asked, “My photos…?”
“Gone. Every one of them.” Jacobs waved at Celia with the gun. “I think we should ask our newest guest here about that. It seems a real coincidence that all the trouble started when she got involved. Well, Celia? Do you want to talk to me or should I let Giles go ahead and have his fun with your body first?”
Celia lifted her chin; bravado was all she had left and she’d use it for Hannah’s sake as well as her own. “Touch me and you’ll regret it. I’m not afraid of you, of either of you. And if you don’t let us go right now, I’ll testify against you both and you’ll spend the rest of your lives in jail.”
Jacobs thought her threat was immeasurably funny, judging by his loud laugh. Giles did little more than glare at her. “Did you hear her, Blair? She’s going to testify against us.”
Giles slanted her an evil look. “Give me a few hours with her before you kill her.”
Hannah began to cry softly, but Celia ignored her for the moment. They meant to intimidate her, to break her. But she’d been dealing with Alec for too long to shriv
el up and fall apart over a few threatening words. She gave them both a look of contempt, the best she could muster, then said, “You’re both too damn stupid to realize it’s all over. Do you really think I’d have come here alone? A woman, by myself?”
Jacobs snarled a curse and retaliated against her contempt by backhanding her. Since Jacobs had gone from confident good humor to outright rage in an instant, Celia hadn’t been at all prepared for the blow. Even when she saw it coming, she didn’t have time to do more than gasp before she was knocked completely off the sofa. Crying out, she landed hard on the floor, bruising her knees and scraping her palms. Her head felt as if it had exploded and she prayed she wasn’t wrong about Alec, that he’d somehow, despite the fact she’d lost her wired pen, known where she was going, that he wasn’t far behind.
As if she’d summoned him with her desperation, Alec chose that exact moment to burst through the door. He literally kicked it in, causing wood to splinter and glass to crack, and Celia, thankful that he was on her side, wondered how one man could manage so much menace by his mere presence. He looked like an enraged bull, his dark eyes filled with murder. When his gaze quickly took in the entire scene and he saw Celia on her knees, holding her cheek, he gave a shout of rage reminiscent of a berserker that made all the windows rattle.
Hannah crouched down beside Celia, clutching at her and hiding her face in her shoulder. Giles completely froze, his face paper-white with terror and his hands up as if to ward off evil.
That left Jacobs, and he tried to bring the gun up and around in time, but Alec was already on him. His first kick sent the gun clattering across the room to crash against the stone fireplace. His second kick had Jacobs grabbing his ribs, shouting in pain.
Celia was still a little stunned, watching the whole thing in fascinated horror, her heart fluttering, her body frozen. She seemed to see it in slow motion, but in truth, Alec’s movements were a blur. From the time he’d burst in to putting Jacobs on the floor had taken little more than a few seconds. She felt awed by seeing Alec in action, though she’d heard enough stories she shouldn’t have been surprised.
Despite her fascination, she noticed when Giles suddenly moved, trying to run across the room after the gun, and she reacted quickly. Shoving Hannah aside, she told the girl, “Get back,” then leaped after Giles. The man was just about to bend over for the gun when Celia threw herself on his back. Her weight knocked him off balance and the momentum of his reach kept him going headfirst into the stone fireplace. Once again, he slumped down unconscious and Celia gave only a brief thought as to whether or not she’d killed him this time.
Through the broken front door she heard the distant approach of sirens. She grabbed for the fireplace poker to help Alec, but when she turned, she saw that Jacobs wasn’t fighting anymore. He merely dangled in Alec’s grip, taking the punishment Alec seemed intent on doling out. Marc Jacobs’s face was no longer handsome, but grotesquely swollen, and his fair hair was matted with blood.
Celia, filled with a new horror, threw the poker aside and leaped onto Alec’s back this time. “Alec, no!”
Neither her weight nor her shout seemed to have any impact on him. He drew back to hit Jacobs again and Celia yelled right into his ear, “I love you, Alec!”
He froze with his fist in midair. Jacobs hung limply in his grip, making mewling sounds, and Alec released him to fall with a loud thump to the floor. Celia scrambled around to face Alec, desperate to reach him. “If you kill him, you’ll end up in jail.”
Alec didn’t say anything, just stared at her. His face was still set, his eyes hard and distant, as if he had trouble bringing himself back under control. His chest moved slowly as he drew deep breaths.
Celia’s heart began to beat so hard it hurt. She couldn’t believe what she’d told him, but at least it had gotten him to stop. “Do…do you remember when I wanted to kill Raymond, and you told me it would only complicate my life?”
Still Alec stared at her. “I remember.”
She dropped her gaze to his chest, touched his collarbone. “I don’t want your life complicated because of me, Alec.”
His fingers gently brushed her bruised, swollen cheek. His voice was low and full of concern when he asked, “Are you all right?”
“Other than a headache, I’m fine.” Then she glanced at Giles. “I imagine his head hurts much worse.” She couldn’t help herself, she grinned nervously. “I knocked him out twice.”
Alec didn’t smile. Instead he walked toward the fireplace, continually looking back at Celia with a narrow-eyed gaze, as if afraid to let her out of his sight. He picked up the gun by the end of the barrel and set it out of reach. The sirens grew steadily louder.
Celia turned to find Hannah pressed up to a wall, her eyes wide on Alec. Celia grinned. She remembered having that exact same reaction the first time she’d met Alec Sharpe. No man had ever affected her, frightened her, touched her, the way he had. He could scare the breath out of grown men with a look, but he was the gentlest, most honorable man she knew. “Hannah, this is a good friend of mine, Alec Sharpe. He’s been working with me to help get you away from Jacobs.”
Alec nodded to the girl, who blinked cautiously.
“Come here, Hannah. He won’t bite.”
Alec gave her a heated look, reminding her that he did in fact indulge in a nibble every now and again. Celia felt a blush start and wanted to smack him. “Alec, quit intimidating her.”
With a wry frown at Celia, Alec removed his cotton shirt and gently slipped it over Hannah’s shoulders. “She’s in shock. See if you can find her something sweet to drink and a cold rag. I’ll take care of these two.” Alec started to turn away, then suddenly stopped. “Oh, Hannah? Any evidence they had against you is gone.”
Hannah stared from Alec to Celia and back again. She gave a very fainthearted, “Oh?”
Alec nodded. “The inside of the warehouse was gutted; the files all caught on fire.”
Celia nearly burst with pride. She just knew Alec was responsible for that. “When did that happen, Alec?”
“While you were getting ready for your damn party.”
She grinned again.
With a completely straight face, he added to Hannah, “And I just found out that someone broke into Marc Jacobs’s house and emptied out his office. No fire there, just a burglary, it seems. There’s enough evidence left to convict him, but nothing that will embarrass you in any way.”
Unable to hold back a moment more, Celia released Hannah to throw her arms around Alec’s neck. He gathered her close in a breath-depriving bear hug, lifting her completely off her feet and pressing his face hard into her neck.
“You’re wonderful, Alec,” she managed to squeak when his hold loosened.
To her surprise, he suddenly set her away from him and said, “Go wait in the kitchenette with Hannah. I’ll take care of the cops and then we’ll talk later.” There was so much coldness in him, she flinched.
“Alec?”
His expression darkened and his jaw worked. He bent low, jutting out his chin and looking her in the eye. In guttural tones, he said, “You almost died.” Glancing at Hannah, he said, “And her, too. Do you have any idea what would have happened if Hannah hadn’t called me? If I hadn’t gotten here when I did?”
Celia took a step back, and she too, glanced at Hannah. The girl gave her a weak, apologetic shrug. “She called you?”
“Thank God you at least had the sense to give her my number before you ran off with a lunatic, without the wire.”
Celia shifted. “The pen fell into the couch and I couldn’t—”
“Save it for later.” Alec cut her off, apparently not interested in her excuses. “I’ll take care of everything from here on. Hopefully I can manage better than you did.”
He turned away to greet several uniformed officers who came cautiously through the door, guns drawn. Celia wanted to grab him, to pull him back, to explain. She felt a chill creeping up on her and realized the night air had c
ooled considerably, but her chill was more from the inside out. Still, she rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms.
Then she turned to see Hannah standing there shivering, wrapped in Alec’s flannel. Her eyes were dilated, her cheeks pale. As he’d said, she easily could have been killed and it would have been her fault. Celia had no idea what Jacobs had done to her after finding the slip of paper on her. They both might have died if it hadn’t been for Alec.
Celia looked around as cops stepped through the room. One of them glanced at her torn outfit and, blushing, handed her his jacket. Celia accepted it gratefully, suddenly anxious to cover herself, to hide the evidence of what she’d just gone through.
The house was in a shambles with a shattered door and broken furniture. Two men were unconscious on the floor, blood seeping into the beautiful carpet. She didn’t even know who owned the cottage.
For a minute there, she’d been on an adrenaline high, pleased with the fact she’d survived, that Jacobs’s madness was at an end. But Alec’s censure had cut through all that.
She closed her eyes. Oh God, she’d made a mess of things. Alec had told her, had warned her. And now he was angry. But there was no way he could be more disappointed than she was.
Alec was right. She wasn’t cut out for this. And as he’d said, it was all at an end.
She’d been a fool.
* * *
ALEC WATCHED CELIA walk numbly through the motel room. It was nearly dawn and he knew she was beat, but as usual, she held herself together without complaining. He wished she’d talk to him, give her usual chatter. She hadn’t voluntarily said two words to him since the police had finished their questioning. By the time they were through, Alec figured he’d met damn near every officer in the unit. Jacobs had been transferred to a hospital, though Alec knew the bastard was all right.
Thanks to Celia.
If she hadn’t stopped him, he very well might have done serious damage. He didn’t want to think he was capable of actually killing so easily, but when he’d seen Jacobs hit her through the door window, when he crashed in and saw Celia down on the floor, her face bruised, he’d lost all reason. Never in his life had he been in such a killing rage. Yet Celia had stopped him with three little words. I love you.
