Daddy's Way

by Stella Moore

  “She wants to go to the open house and help us set up,” Olivia offered, just barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes when James gave her ponytail a warning tug. “What? It’s what she was going to ask!”

  “And she’s capable of speaking for herself, little one.”

  “It’s fine.” Shannon didn’t bother to stop her eye roll when James pinned her with a disapproving look. “Well, it is. I was going to ask about going to the open house.”

  “I’m about to put you both in the corner and make you stay there until we leave.”

  Grinning, Shannon bounced on her stool. “So, I can go?”

  “Yes. If you promise to take it easy and rest when you start to feel tired.”

  “Cross my heart!” Shannon swiped a finger in an ‘X’ shape across her chest.

  “I’m serious, Shannon. If I see you overdoing it, you’ll be writing lines until your hand falls off. Understood?”

  Lifting her hand to her forehead, Shannon gave him a snappy salute. “Sir, yes, sir!”

  “Brat,” James mumbled, but he was laughing when he left the kitchen.

  * * *

  “Olivia, we’re going to be late and you’re not even dressed yet.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” Flashing her husband an apologetic smile, Olivia rubbed the towel over her skin. “I just need twenty minutes.”

  “We don’t have twenty minutes, Olivia. Not if we’re going to get everything set up in time.”

  “Then why don’t you take Shannon and I’ll be right behind you?” Ignoring the glare he shot her in the mirror, she slathered moisturizer over her skin. “Seriously, twenty minutes. That’s all I need.”

  “Twenty minutes. And that’s twenty with the brush when we get home, little girl. Another two for every minute over that. Understood?”

  Swallowing hard against the knot in her chest, Olivia nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”

  “I’ll see you at the house.” James yanked her in for a quick, scorching kiss. “I love you.”

  “Love you, too.” As soon as he left, she focused on getting her makeup done as quickly as possible without looking like a clown. It took her nearly all of the twenty minutes she’d allotted herself, thanks to whatever law of the universe stated only one eye could have perfect eyeliner at any given moment.

  She was slipping into her heels at the twenty-five-minute mark when her phone rang. “Olivia Monroe,” she answered, praying she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt.

  “Olivia? It’s MaryAnn.”

  “Uh, hi, MaryAnn. What’s up?” Shoes on, she raced for the kitchen, then swore under her breath when she didn’t see her purse on the island where she knew she’d left it the night before. Which, if she had, her daddy had probably put it in the coat closet where he was always telling her it belonged. Letting out a silent scream of frustration, she headed for the front hall.

  “I just had a couple call about the Petersons’ house. They’re really interested in taking a look.”

  Reaching for her purse, which was indeed in the coat closet, Olivia froze. “The Petersons? Seriously?” It was one of her most expensive properties and she’d been trying to move it for two months. “Wait.” Pulling the phone away from her ear, she frowned at the number on the screen. “Are you at the office?”

  “Um, I-I came in to catch up on some paperwork.”

  “Why are you calling me on your cell?”

  “I have them on the office line. They’re sitting in the driveway, waiting on someone.”

  “Fuck! Seriously? I have an open house; I can’t meet them now.” Who the hell called on a Sunday, anyway?

  “I’m sorry, but they said it has to be today,” MaryAnn squeaked out.

  “Okay. Okay.” Closing her eyes, Olivia focused on the problem at hand. “It’s definitely a couple? Did you speak to the wife?”

  “Um, yes?”

  “Good. Let them know I’m ten minutes away. Then, call James and let him know where I’m headed and see if he can’t find someone to meet me there.” James was going to have her ass, but this was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

  “O-okay.”

  “Thanks, MaryAnn. I appreciate all the hard work you do for us.”

  She ended the call, cutting off MaryAnn’s stuttering and grabbed her purse. The Petersons’ place was just a few neighborhoods over, so she was there under the ten-minute mark. A somewhat battered SUV was parked in the driveway, and a tall man climbed out when she pulled up beside it.

  Unease pooled in her belly, but she chided herself for passing judgement based on the fact that they drove an older car. Lots of people keep the same car for years, Liv. Don’t be a snob.

  Putting on her best realtor smile, she hopped out of her car. “Good afternoon! I’m Olivia Monroe.”

  The man smiled, and while it was perfectly charming with no hint of malice, she couldn’t seem to shake that uneasy feeling as he shook her hand. There was something familiar about him, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. “Nathaniel Cooke. Everyone calls me Nate.”

  “Well, Nate, it’s nice to meet you.” Leaning around him, she searched the interior of the car. “Is your wife with you?”

  “Oh, no, it’s just me.” Again with the perfect, charming smile that made Olivia’s stomach turn.

  “I see. Will she be joining us?”

  “No, she’s out of town on business. I’m actually leaving in an hour to meet her, which is why I wanted to go ahead and see the house. I really think it’s perfect for us.”

  What the hell, MaryAnn? “Well, it might be better to wait until your wife can tour the house as well, don’t you think?”

  The charming smile cranked up a notch, but Olivia couldn’t help but think it made him look a little crazy. “My wife trusts my opinion, Mrs. Monroe. I would like to see the house now.”

  Taking a step backward, Olivia froze when he shifted and the sunlight bounced off the barrel of the gun he’d stashed beneath his long coat. Ice skittered up her spine. The smile he wore now had lost all of its fake charm, revealing the deranged killer underneath.

  “We should go inside, Olivia. People will start to talk if we linger.”

  Her mind raced as she searched for some way to get out of this mess she’d landed herself in. She could scream, but there was no guarantee he wouldn’t just shoot her and leave. She could fight, but he had a good foot in height and at least fifty pounds on her.

  Which really only left her with one option. With a curt nod, she turned and walked up the driveway, praying he had enough sense to wait until they were inside to kill her. If she could stall long enough, someone would show up. Probably James himself, once MaryAnn told him she’d gone to the house alone.

  At the front door, she gathered her courage and turned to face him. “Why are you doing this?” Even if he killed her today, she at least wanted to know that much first.

  “We can talk about it inside. Open the door.”

  Rapidly running out of options, she punched in the code for the front door. It swung open, and Olivia nearly fell to her knees. The last shred of hope she’d clung to slipped through her fingers.

  There in the entryway, wearing her usual mousy smile, stood MaryAnn.

  * * *

  “Olivia Jane, I swear to God if you don’t answer your phone or text me back in the next five minutes, sitting comfortably will be a fond memory. Call me. Now.”

  Doing his best to ignore the dread forming in the pit of his stomach, James hit the button to end the call. It was the fifth time he’d called her in the last twenty minutes, and the third voicemail he’d left.

  “I’m sure she’s fine, James. Probably just had a wardrobe emergency or something.” From her seat at the kitchen table, Shannon sent him a reassuring smile.

  But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. “She would have called me. At the very least to let me know she was running late.”

  “You’re probably right.” Frowning, she tapped a finger on the table
. “Don’t you have like a ‘Find my phone’ thing? I thought she downloaded an app or something because she was always losing it for a while.”

  “I thought that app just made the phone ring.”

  Shannon shrugged. “Most of them give you a location. Worth a shot, right?”

  Since it was at least worth trying, he opened the app on his phone and tapped the icon for Olivia’s device. The spinning circle in the middle of his screen seemed to taunt him as he waited. And waited. And waited, until it finally pinpointed his wayward wife’s location.

  “That’s odd. It says she’s stopped somewhere. I know that address,” he mumbled, moving to the laptop he’d set up on the counter.

  The small ball of fear in his stomach became a boulder when the address popped up as one of their available listings. “Fuck! Shannon, call Bryant and give him this address.” He thrust the laptop at her before heading toward the front door.

  “Wait! I’m coming with you!”

  “No!” He felt like an asshole when she visibly flinched, but he didn’t have time to play nice. “I need you to cancel the open house and let Bryant know what’s going on. I can’t handle that and help Liv.”

  “You think he has her.”

  “Yeah. I think he has her.”

  Shannon’s eyes seemed huge in her suddenly pale face. “Okay. I’ll take care of this. Go save her.”

  Running out the door, he pulled up a contact he’d hoped he’d never have to use and hit the button to call.

  “Detective Rogers.”

  “This is James Monroe. Olivia is in danger.”

  “Where is she?” The detective’s voice was instantly alert.

  Yanking open the door of his SUV, James gave her the address. “I’m on my way there now.”

  “No! Mr. Monroe, I need you to stay where you are.”

  “Fuck that. This is my wife, Detective. I’ll see you there.” Without giving her a chance to argue further, he hit the button to end the call and started the car. When the Bluetooth connected, he called Bryant.

  “He has Olivia.”

  “I know. I’m still fifteen minutes away.”

  “Fuck. I’m almost twenty out. I’ll kill him, Bry. If he so much as lays a finger on her, I’ll fucking kill him.”

  “Not if I get there first.”

  The twenty minutes felt like hours, but he finally arrived at the house. Olivia’s SUV was parked in the driveway alongside a similar, but much more worn-looking vehicle. James drove past the house and parked his car by the curb behind Bryant’s sensible sedan.

  As soon as James was parked, Bryant jumped out of his car and made his way toward the house carrying a crowbar. James opened the door of his vehicle and nodded at the weapon. “Good idea. Got a spare?”

  “I don’t just keep weapons lying around, James. I’m a lawyer, not a fucking Green Beret.”

  The enormity of the situation hit James in the gut and he had to lean back against the car to steady himself. “How the hell do we get her out, Bry? We’re not trained for this.”

  Before Bryant could answer, another car turned onto the street and whipped in behind James’s SUV. Relief washed over him when the detectives clambered out of the car and strode toward them.

  “Mr. Monroe, I told you to stay put,” Rogers said, her usually flat eyes lit with an uncharacteristic fury.

  “And I told you I wasn’t just leaving my wife in some maniac’s hands. I’m going in.”

  “I’m afraid we can’t allow that, Mr. Monroe.” Michaelson’s sympathy rang as false as ever and James bared his teeth at the detective.

  “You’re going to have to shoot me to stop me, Detective.”

  As if on cue, a sound like a car backfiring pulled their attention to the house. James felt his head spin a moment before he took off running for the front door. Bryant dove for him, but James had always been faster, and he easily evaded his brother’s grasp.

  “Fuck! Get him, Michaelson! I’m going in!”

  Something heavy slammed into his side a moment later and he hit the ground. The air left his lungs in a painful whoosh. “Olivia,” he croaked out, struggling beneath the weight of his attacker.

  “We’ll help her. I need you to calm down, or I’m going to have to cuff you.”

  The sound that escaped him wasn’t entirely human. Above him, Detective Michaelson sighed, and James was dimly aware of the sound of cuffs being opened seconds before they clamped around one of his wrists. Both arms were jerked behind his back and the cuffs were secured around his other wrist. He was dimly aware of Bryant shouting at the detective, threatening him with all manner of lawsuits, but his focus was on the opening Detective Rogers had just disappeared into.

  “Liv,” he whispered, his heart threatening to shatter in his chest.

  Please, God, let her be alive.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Sitting on a hard dining room chair with her hands bound behind the wooden slats, Olivia studied her captors. MaryAnn, with her sweet, mousy face, which had gone completely white after her friend had tied Olivia to the chair.

  And then there was the man. The more she looked at him, the more she was convinced she knew him. He seemed familiar somehow, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out how she knew him.

  And she may never get a chance to figure it out, if he kept waving that damn gun around. The idiot was going to kill her before he got a chance to kill her.

  “Bobby, I don’t know about this. You said you just wanted to talk to her.” Eyeing Olivia uncertainly, MaryAnn twisted her fingers together in front of her.

  ‘Bobby’ smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “I do want to talk to her, baby.” Moving behind MaryAnn, he slid an arm around her waist, all while keeping his eyes locked on Olivia. “I want to talk to her about the way she’s treated you. Swearing at you, berating you for the tiniest little mistakes. Remember that, MaryAnn? Remember how she talked down to you, made you feel like nothing?”

  Fuck. Olivia felt her chances of survival slipping away when MaryAnn frowned and nodded.

  “She did do all of that. But I don’t want to kill her.”

  “But don’t you?” Bobby released his hold on her and walked over to the chair. Raising the gun high, he grinned at Olivia before swinging his hand down.

  The back of his hand connected with her cheek, hard enough to snap her head back and have her tasting blood. From across the room, MaryAnn whimpered but didn’t move to intervene.

  “Women like her, whores who spread their legs to get ahead, they think they’re better than everyone else.” Using the tip of the pistol, Bobby lifted Olivia’s chin up so she was forced to look at him. “You really think you’d be top bitch if you weren’t sucking your broker’s cock on a regular basis, Olivia?”

  A laugh, bitter and slightly hysterical, escaped before she could stop it. “That’s what this is about? You’re pissed I’m better at my job than you are?” It hit her, then, where she knew him from. “Wait. You’re that guy James interviewed. The one he said he wouldn’t hire to sell doghouses on the side of the road.”

  “He didn’t hire me because he can’t shove his cock between my legs whenever he wants!”

  “If that’s what you have to tell yourself.” Olivia shrugged. “But I’m sure our other agents would be rather surprised to learn of their new job duties. Especially Randall.”

  “Shut up!” Even though she saw the next blow coming, she was helpless to stop it. Pain radiated through her skull and her vision darkened at the edges when the butt of the gun connected again with her cheek.

  MaryAnn’s shocked gasp distracted Bobby and he crossed the room to her, taking her in his arms. “I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to upset you. But she had that coming. You heard the way she talked to me.”

  “MaryAnn. Please.” Head swimming with pain, Olivia fought to focus on the figures across the room. “Let me go. I swear I won’t tell anyone you were involved.”

  “I’ve heard enough of your lies. Hold th
is.” Bobby thrust the gun into MaryAnn’s hand and pulled a length of rope from his jacket pocket. He stalked over to the chair Olivia was bound to and dropped the rope around her neck.

  The rough, prickly cable pressing into her skin reignited the fight in her. Ignoring the pain in her cheek and the burn of the rope digging into her wrists, she jerked against her bonds.

  “Fight me all you want, bitch. I won.” His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, tinged with madness. “I beat you.”

  He pulled tighter, completely cutting off her air. The world began to darken, her lungs felt like they were going to burst. This was it. She was going to die here. She’d never see James again, never feel his lips on hers. She was never going to see Bryant and Shannon get married.

  Something exploded in the room, and the pressure around her neck disappeared. Warm, wet stickiness splattered her cheek. Gasping for air, Olivia whipped her head around, looking for her rescuer.

  She found only MaryAnn, still standing in the same spot, the gun pointed just over Olivia’s head.

  Behind her, she heard someone groan. Twisting her head around, she spotted Bobby rolling on the floor, clutching his shoulder.

  Before she could begin to process what had happened, the front door burst open. “Police! Drop the weapon, now!”

  MaryAnn complied immediately, crouching to place the gun on the floor before thrusting her hands into the air. As soon as the weapon was on the floor, Detective Rogers moved in, nudging it away with her foot. “Face down, hands on your head!”

  “It wasn’t her!”

  Detective Rogers flicked a glance toward Olivia. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. She saved me.” Olivia jerked her head toward the moaning figure behind her. “He’s the one you want, he tried to kill me.”

  “Okay. What’s her name?”

  “MaryAnn. She’s our receptionist. Please don’t hurt her.”

  “Your receptionist?” Out of the entire bizarre scenario, that detail seemed to shock the hardened detective the most. “Jesus. All right, MaryAnn. I want you to stay right there, with your hands on your head. Got it?”