I can’t let him go through with the interview. Sitting on the trail, surrounded by my dogs, I know who I am. I can love him without losing myself. I’m stronger than that now. And Gavin Black is nothing like my ex-husband.
“You don’t have to do this. I shouldn’t have made that demand. I’m sorry. I let my awful marriage distort everything.”
“Kayla—”
“You don’t have to do this, Gavin. Not for me. Not for anyone. It’s not a condition of my love, or my friendship,” I say quickly. I can hear his footsteps in the background. There are other voices too.
“Kayla, slow down,” he says. “Let me explain. Please.”
“Okay.”
“Can you give me a minute, Charlene?” he says.
I hear a sugar sweet voice give him an affirmative answer. As if she would make demands from Gavin Black when he’s willing to do her show over all of the others.
“Alexandra’s not going away, Kayla. I met with her last night. You were right. She wants revenge. I do too. But I want you more.”
“Gavin,” I whisper. It’s as if his words broke a damn inside me, the one holding back my feelings for this man. I’ve loved him for so long. And I’ve wanted him too. The fact that he’s willing to tell the world …
“You don’t have to do this,” I say again. “We can have a huge wedding. Everyone will stop talking about your crazy ex.”
“I’m doing this show,” he says. “And after I sit down with Charlene, I’m driving straight up to see you. I have a very big present for you named Diamond.”
“You didn’t,” I gasp, instantly picturing a diamond ring nestled in a box. I don’t need a traditional proposal. I’ve seen Gavin on one knee before. We don’t need to repeat that disaster. And I’ll probably lose the diamond ring. “You didn’t have to.”
“There’s a list of people who would agree with you. Margaret’s on the top of it,” he says. “I love you, Kayla Greene, and I’m sure as hell going to prove it to you. But first I need to chat with New York’s favorite morning show host. And Charlene is getting a little impatient. She’s frowning and casting nervous glances at me. I promised her one hell of an interview. I bet she’s wondering if I’m going to walk away.”
“You still can,” I say.
“I’m done hiding, Kayla. The woman I love knows the truth, the bad and ugly parts, who gives a damn what the rest of the world thinks.”
“You do,” I remind him. “I know you, Gavin. What people think matters to you.”
He can’t do this for me. My mother’s right. He created Gavin Black out of self-preservation. Abused, bullied kids didn’t grow up to be billionaires or New York’s most eligible bachelor.
But he did.
And it shouldn’t matter to me or anyone else how he accomplished that amazing feat.
“You’re right. What everyone thinks does matter to me,” he admits. “But I think I’ve got that part covered too. Now, go watch the show.”
I glance up at the canopy of red and orange trees. “Gavin, I’m near the top of the smokestack trail. I’m two miles from the house.”
“Oh.” I can hear the disappointment in his voice. “We can watch it later. Together. I really need to go now. I love you.”
The calls ends and I lower the phone. I stare at the dogs. “He’s going to do it. He’s going to tell world about Terrance Montgomery.”
The dogs stare back at me. They don’t understand my words, but my tone has their attention.
“Listen,” I say in my best you’d-better-sit-or-else dog trainer voice. “We need to run home.”
Ava barks. I push myself off the ground and charge forward, moving as fast as I dare on the fallen leaves. My Shepard leads the way with the other dogs right behind. Together, we race down the trail.
My lungs are burning by the time we reach our driveway. Ava is still out in front, but the others are behind me. I glance back at Luna. The poor girl will need a long nap after that wild race down the hiking path. But I’m hoping we made it in time to catch the end of Gavin’s interview.
Ava starts barking and I realize there is an unfamiliar car in my driveway.
“Please don’t be the crazy hunter with another pie,” I mutter, slowing to a walk as I move past the white sedan. The other dogs rush forward and join the chorus. I look up from my pups and freeze.
There’s a woman standing on my porch with a gun, but she’s not a hunter. And her pistol is pointed right at me.
Fuck.
There’s a reason I don’t curse much. The words never feel necessary. But now? When my heart is racing from a wild run that ended with Gavin’s crazy ex threatening to shoot me? That’s the perfect time to curse and run.
But if I turn to leave, there’s a chance she’ll fire. And she might hit one of my dogs.
“Alexandra,” I say, sliding my hand into my pocket to claim my cell. A call to Lucie, my friendly deputy seems like the second best plan. “What are you doing here?”
“Keep your hands out of your pocket.”
“I need to get my key,” I lie.
“The door is open.” She nods to the kitchen entrance. Sure enough the door is ajar. The blackmailing bitch has already been inside my home.
“Come inside, or I’ll shoot your dog.” She shifts her aim until the pistol is pointed straight at Rocky.
“No.” I step forward, placing myself between the gun and my old, sweet, loving rescue pup. “I’ll go inside with you. The dogs stay out here.”
“Gavin said I couldn’t hurt you. It looks like I found a way.” She grins and nods to the dogs. “The animals come with us. I don’t want you to get any ideas while we wait for Gavin.”
I lead my pack of barking dogs inside. I can only hope that Ava won’t stop sounding the alarm before Gavin drives up. If he hears her, hopefully he’ll know to call for help first.
“Quiet the Shepard or I shoot her first.”
I lower to the ground and wrap my arms around Ava to calm her. She stops barking, but the fur on her back remains raised. The other dogs crowd around me. I’ve succeeded in calming them, but now I need a new plan.
CHAPTER 26
GAVIN
“I’m no longer in complete control.”
Saying the words out loud doesn’t make the reality any easier to swallow. And it doesn’t help that my audience is drooling all over my BMW’s leather interior. A glance in the rearview mirror as we turn off the Palisades Parkway confirms he’s still lounging on the rear leather seats.
The Bull Mastiff in the backseat isn’t entirely responsible for my rising panic. Though I have to admit the thought of having him in my care forever is a little daunting. If my plan fails—and there’s a chance it might—he’ll become my sole responsibility for the rest of his life.
My very own one-million-dollar dog.
To be fair, the Upper East Side rescue waved the adoption fee. The seven-figure donation was a bribe to keep the shelter open and process the paperwork after closing time. Of course, they called it a donation. And the woman was already considering my plea after I asked for the dog that had been there the longest, the one every professional in her organization believed would never, ever find a home.
That left me with the five-year-old diabetic drool factory in my back seat.
“Seriously, Diamond,” I continue. “You don’t mind if I call you that, do you? You’re my living, breathing replacement for a Tiffany engagement ring. But don’t worry big guy. She’ll like you more.”
The Mastiff cocks his head and another strand of drool flows from his jowls.
“Unless the rescue was lying about your ability to get along with other dogs,” I say. “If that’s the case, we’ll have to fix up the barn just for you big guy.”
No response from the backseat.
“Or she wasn’t impressed by my morning show appearance,” I add.
That’s the big raincloud of doubt slowly washing away my control. I sent a letter to everyone in my company last night exp
laining my past, and my plan to share it with the world. The feedback was overwhelmingly positive. Although Margaret pointed out that I was still the billionaire in charge. They weren’t likely to say anything negative to my face, or over email.
But my employees, my customers—hell, there isn’t a single person whose reaction I care about beside Kayla. I glance at my cell again and then return my eyes to the road. I’ve called her half a dozen times since I left the TV studio. I sent her a text before I loaded Diamond and all of his food and medications into my car.
No response.
“What if she fell while hiking?” I muse out loud.
My grip tightens on the steering wheel. That’s the most likely explanation. I instruct my cell to find Lucie’s number and dial. It’s a damn good thing I saved her cell number in my contacts after Kayla was shot. When it starts to ring, I put the call on speaker.
“Hello?”
“Deputy?”
“Yes. Who’s this?”
“Gavin Black,” I say quickly. “Listen, I’ve been trying to get ahold of Kayla.” I launch into an abbreviated explanation, leaving out the details of my morning show appearance, and my plans to propose, for real this time. “I’m worried she fell on her way down the trail. Any emergency calls come in?”
“Not today. I can send an officer to check,” she says. “But first, I’ll swing by her house. No point sending someone on a hike if she’s home. Plus, cell reception can be spotty in the country. There’s a chance she set her cell down in a dead zone.”
“She wants to hear from me, Lucie.” I can tell from the deputy’s tone that she’s wondering if Kayla’s simply ignoring me.
“I’ll swing by when I can, Mr. Black. You have my word.”
“Thanks, Lucie.”
Forty-five minutes later, I turn into the driveway and park behind a four-door sedan.
“Took you long enough, Lucie,” I mutter. I thought the deputy would have come and gone by now.
I climb out of the car but opt to leave Diamond in the backseat. I need to check with Kayla before I let him out. Adding a Mastiff who might not get along with her dogs could lead to disaster. Hell, I can hear Ava going crazy inside the house and I’ve barely set foot outside my car.
When was the last time I heard Kayla’s dogs bark like that?
I grew accustomed to their sounds while they were living in my apartment. Ava only barks when she has a reason to sound the alarm.
Or when a stranger tries to leave a cake on the porch.
I stop beside the sedan. The damn thing looks like a rental, not something an old hunter would drive. But it’s not a patrol vehicle. And I don’t see any signs of dog hair in the car. I’m pretty sure Kayla said Lucie owns a big dog.
I take out my cell and dial the deputy again. Not one damn ring. Just straight to voicemail. Maybe she is in the house with Kayla and Ava’s not happy with the cop’s presence.
“Lucie, it’s Gavin Black again. I can hear Kayla’s dogs, but something’s off. I think the old hunter who shot her might be back. I’d appreciate it if you’d swing by.”
I end the call when I reach the door leading to the kitchen. One glance through the glass panels and my heart fucking skips a beat.
Alexandra.
The blackmailing monster is standing in Kayla’s kitchen with a fucking gun. It’s like a scene from my worst nightmare. One glance and I know that nothing from my past—not the hunger or the fear—nothing compares to the panic coursing through me.
I can’t lose Kayla.
She doesn’t have to marry me. She just needs to stay alive and be in the fucking world.
Woof! Woof! Woof!
The Shepard’s warning vibrates the old farmhouse door. No wonder Ava’s barking wildly. She’s trying to defend Kayla from a lunatic with a loaded weapon.
“My turn girl,” I mutter as I pull open the door and step inside. I don’t have a plan. And I don’t stop to mentally draft a strategy. I know my goal—keep my crazy, blackmailing ex-girlfriend from shooting the love of my life.
“Gavin. You’re here.” Alexandra beams at me. She’s holding a gun and she’s smiling.
Yeah, that’s a whole new level of crazy. And I’m the one responsible for delivering her to Kayla’s doorstep.
Kayla moans a soft, “No, no, no.”
I look her over, searching for blood or a sign that she’s been injured. Nothing. She’s using her own body to protect the dogs. Luna sits behind her, and Cleveland rests in her lap. Rocky’s sitting on her right. And Ava, the brave, fierce barking Shepard mix, is dancing around in the space between Kayla and the woman with the gun.
“What the hell are doing, Alexandra?” I demand, turning to look at her. I need her focused on me. And I sure as hell wish she would point that handgun, or pistol, or whatever it is, in my direction.
“We watched your interview while we waited,” she says through her smiling lips. “I never thought you would spill those embarrassing secrets. How did it feel, telling the world you spent your high school years as a punching bag?”
“Good.” I answer honestly, sparing Kayla a quick glance. “I should have done it years ago. I would have realized that I’m not ashamed of my past.”
“Bullshit,” she scoffs. “Though I thought your plan to donate a small piece of your Gavin Black fortune to stop school bullies was a nice touch.”
“Put the gun down and I’ll tell you more about the plan,” I say.
“And lose my leverage?” Her smile fades. “I don’t think so.”
“What do you want?” I ask.
“You just went on national television and told the entire world that my mother left you to rot with that family,” Alexandra says sharply. Her grip tightens on the gun and I step in front of Kayla.
“Gavin, what are you doing?” Kayla murmurs.
We need time.
But I can’t tell Kayla that Lucie’s probably on her way. Hell, I can barely think straight and I just walked into this mess. Kayla’s been huddled on the floor, trying to shield her dogs since I chatted with Charlene on TV. That was two hours ago. She must be out of her mind with fear.
“I told the truth, Alexandra,” I say. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“My plan was to humiliate you,” Alexandra snarls.
“You failed,” Kayla says. “Gavin was amazing. The morning show host looked as if she’d fallen in love with him. Charlene leaned closer and closer as he described how powerless he felt as a kid. Didn’t you notice, Alexandra?”
“Kayla,” I say, filling my tone with warning. I’m doing my best to make damn sure Ms. Crazy pants with the gun focuses on me. It doesn’t work when she talks.
“I thought Charlene was going to climb into his lap and kiss him when he started talking about how he wants to make sure other kids in foster homes know they have a voice, that no child should ever feel weak and worthless, didn’t you Alexandra?” Kayla continues.
I hear movement behind me and realize she’s stood up.
“That weak, worthless child destroyed my mother,” Alexandra snarls, her voice rising. “She took her own life because of you.”
“I’m not responsible for your mother’s actions.” I’m practically shouting to be heard over Ava’s barking. The tension is palpable. Ava senses it and wants to intervene. It’s a miracle the Shepard hasn’t tried to bite Alexandra. She would probably get shot in the process.
“You are responsible,” Alexandra insists. “She lost everything because of you.”
“Your mother made choices too,” Kayla says. “She kept Gavin in that home.”
“She did what she thought was best!” Alexandra shouts. Then she turns to Kayla who—oh fucking hell—is standing right beside me. “I’m going to shoot your damn mutt.”
Alexandra lowers the gun to Ava. I move without thinking, shoving Kayla away. I hear her hit the floor. She’s screaming, begging, pleading, but then the bang drowns out everything else. I’m already in motion, hurling forward, racing the
bullet … I’m willing my body to get in front of the dog, to block the shot.
Fuck.
Maybe I say it out loud too. I don’t know. There’s so much damn pain. I feel like my arm is on fire. And my hip—Kayla’s wood floors make for a hard landing. But it’s my right shoulder that explodes with pain. The fireworks keep coming one pop after another, and each one feels like a new burst of misery.
I roll onto my back as the kitchen door crashes open. Ava launches into a fresh round of barking and the other dogs are backing her up. I don’t hear any whimpering, so that’s a good sign, right? The dogs didn’t get shot.
Just me.
“Drop your weapon.”
I hear Lucie issue the command and close my eyes. She sounds a little nervous, but she’s in a far better position to keep Kayla from getting shot than I am right now.
“Come any further and I’ll shoot,” Alexandra says.
There’s another loud bang and I open my eyes, fucking hoping my crazy ex didn’t make good on her threat.
“No, you’ll get shot,” Lucie says, all traces of nerves gone from her voice.
I lower my head back to the floor as the deputy calls for medical help. There’s a hand on my shoulder and a wet nose in my ear. I hope that’s one of the dogs, not a pain-induced hallucination.
I open my eyes. Kayla’s beautiful, tear-streaked face fills my vision. Her long, dark hair falls loose over her shoulders. I want to kiss her, but I can’t seem to lift my head right now.
But I keep my eyes open. I thought I would never get the image of Kayla’s breast covered in Luna’s blood out of my mind. Seeing her held at gunpoint, knowing she spent hours on the floor—I might never let her out of my sight again.
“Oh, God, Gavin.”
Yeah, I’ve heard those words before, but never like this. Most of the time when a woman gasps my name like that, she’s naked and I have the use of my hands. That way is definitely better. I make a mental note to tell Kayla later. Not now. It all hurts too damn much.
“You’re bleeding,” she adds. I feel her hands on my upper bicep. That must be where I was shot. When she presses down on the wound, I let out a curse and break my don’t-look-away-from-Kayla rule.
Mr. Misunderstood Page 22
