Love You Madly

by Ashlee Mallory

  “Looks like I’m needed. But you should begin to accept your new fate.” He took his hand away, and she dropped back onto the bed, clutching her neck protectively. “I’ll be back. Soon.”

  Accept her fate? Never.

  She just needed some time to figure out how the hell they could get out of this.

  …

  The clatter from the kitchen and the bustle of the staff were loud, deafening, but Travis was able to tune them out and focus on what Meems was explaining through his earpiece. He looked over at Jace, who’d arrived just twenty minutes before and would have his back for what he had to do next.

  Having waited for what seemed an eternity, Travis was ready to go now, but he forced himself to be patient.

  Four hours. It had been four long, agonizing hours since he’d seen Meredith taken away in the copter. Barely less than that when he’d arrived at the airstrip in time to see the small private plane take off for parts unknown—for another half an hour, until Meems had managed to figure out where the plane was headed and, with Jace’s help, arrange their own private plane, which arrived in Vegas almost an hour later.

  During their short flight, Meems had been busy tracking down where the occupants of the other plane had gone after landing. Not an easy feat, but she’d worked her magic, and by the time they landed an hour later, they had the name of the hotel. From there, Meems made quick work of hacking into the hotel’s database and security cameras to discover Meredith and Darcy had likely been taken to a suite on the twenty-ninth floor. At least, that was where the owner of their plane was registered as a guest, so they could only pray this was where the women were taken as well.

  Unfortunately, the hotel security cameras didn’t extend into the three-room suite, and he didn’t know precisely how many men were waiting inside. Didn’t even know for sure if Meredith and Darcy were inside. But they had the layout of the rooms, and Travis had a good idea from the men going in and out what he was about to step into.

  As soon as they could confirm the women were inside, Meems would contact the police.

  They had estimated there were at least two guards and the brother inside the suite now, and another four with the sheikh in the casino playing a private high-roller game of poker. But the sheikh was on the move now, and as of ten minutes ago, they were expecting room service to send up a large quantity of food to the suite.

  Which was precisely what Travis and Jace had been waiting for.

  The room cart loaded, he and Jace moved to the elevators. He was a ball of nervous energy as they waited for the elevator to ascend to the twenty-ninth floor.

  Without a word to the other, they moved down the hall to the door of the suite, where a guard was standing outside. He waved his hand, ordering them to stop before knocking on the door. Another hulking guy, armed by the way his jacket bulged, came out to meet them.

  He caught Jace’s warning, the slight shaking of his head, telling him not to do anything rash. But to be ready.

  Not going to be a problem.

  …

  Meredith pressed her head to the door, trying to hear what might be going on at the other side. She had to congratulate the hotel on their soundproofing. Everything was muffled. Damn. But from the furor going on, she was sure the sheikh had arrived.

  There were loud voices just outside her room now, so she took a step back. Someone was going to come through that door any second. For a moment she debated hiding, but she knew that would be pointless, since she wasn’t five and there were only so many placed a full-grown woman could hide—for maybe twenty seconds before they discovered her.

  The knob turned, and she held her breath.

  Ayman walked in, his suit jacket and tie gone. The top buttons of his white shirt undone. The smirk on his face was enough to tell her the intent behind this visit. It was time. This was really going to happen.

  And there was no one who could stop it or save her.

  Except herself.

  Feigned submission, similar to what she’d pulled with Peter, was her only plan. Not that that had gone particularly spectacularly for her, but it was the only scheme she could come up with. If she were lucky, he’d be carrying his gun and she could blow his balls off before he had a chance to do any real harm. Then she’d do the same to that sheikh.

  “It looks like the sheikh is now comfortable in his room, and I am free to my own devices.” He pulled the cuff links from his shirt and rolled up the sleeves, deliberately watching her. He turned in profile to set the cuff links onto the desk, and she caught a glimpse of the gun tucked in his pants.

  Bingo.

  But how to play this? If she acted too compliant, he was sure to suspect something. She nixed the idea of playing the temptress, as he’d surely see through it. Best to just appear reluctant and resigned.

  He unbuckled his belt and loosened the top of his pants, then nodded toward the bed. “Lie down.”

  She chewed her bottom lip, as if in contemplation, making a show of rubbing her arms up and down before taking tentative steps toward the bed. She sat on the edge of the bed, unable to bring herself to lie down per his instruction.

  There was only so much docility she could feign. Instead, she met his gaze.

  She didn’t expect the full thrust of his palm as he backhanded her and she tasted blood as her head whipped to the side.

  “You’ll do well to remember who is in charge. Eye contact is something you earn. And until then, you will not look at me or anyone. Now, lie down.”

  Meredith fought the urge to rub her cheekbone and instead dropped her gaze. His arousal was obvious. The pain he caused her enough to incite him, even more so as he shoved her back against the bed and climbed up, pinning her between his knees.

  Her chest was tight, constricted, and once again she fought for breath and brought her hands up, but he grabbed her wrists and held them painfully above her head with one hand. He gripped her face with his other, hard enough to leave bruises along her jaw. He smiled then, knowing the pain he was inflicting.

  That was what he wanted. What turned him on. A struggle. Meredith forced herself to focus on relaxing her body, taking in breaths until her breathing returned to a more normal level. She couldn’t lose control.

  He was watching the changes on her face with interest. He let go of her chin and pressed his hand down the length of her body until he reached the side of her hip.

  Don’t move. Don’t fight. Not yet.

  He watched her with that smug smile on his lips as he tugged on the white gown until he exposed her naked lower half. Despite the burning humiliation, she stayed still. His excitement was bright in his eyes, and he finally took his gaze from hers to stare down at her nakedness. His breath grew more labored as he dug his hand into the front of his pants, his grip on her wrists slack now, and she couldn’t risk waiting another moment.

  She yanked her hands free, and while his hand was still inside his pants, she grabbed the butt of his gun sheathed in a sling at his waist. Having watched Travis pull his gun several times over the past few days, she mimicked his actions now and used her thumb to disengage the safety.

  That got his attention, and he stopped to stare down at the gun she held pointed directly at his head.

  “Now get off me, you son of a bitch.”

  His eyes flared with rage, but he sat back as she slipped from underneath him and climbed off the bed. “Where’s my daughter?”

  “You’re making a mistake. There’s nothing you can do to save her.”

  “Wrong. Now get up. You’re going to take me to her.” She took a step forward until she had the barrel pressed against his head.

  He stood slowly, and she watched him, wary for any signs he was going to struggle. But he seemed relaxed, and she followed close behind him until they were almost to the door.

  The thrust of his elbow meeting her chin caught her by surprise, and she reeled back as he swung around. He didn’t hesitate as he reached out to pull the gun away and then landed a punch to the side
of her head. A flashing light and more pain and she was falling.

  He kicked her in the side, and she cried out against the pain, trying to get into the fetal position to protect herself from his strikes. He knelt down, hovering over her, his hand at her throat. She clawed at his eyes, and she experienced more pain as he lifted her head before slamming it down against the floor. The shock of the pain took her breath, and she was stunned for a moment as she tried to open her eyes, only to have the scattering brightness from the lights bring them shut again.

  She couldn’t fight. Couldn’t move her head or her arms. She waited for the next blow.

  He was still fueled by anger as his hand ripped at the gown, the tearing sound of the fabric in her ears. His breath was in her face, near her ear as he whispered, “This is only the beginning.”

  She opened her eyes as the shooting pain from her head subsided, and she stared up at the ceiling, praying it would be over soon. Praying that Darcy, her baby, wasn’t enduring anything as painful or humiliating…

  From her fog, she saw movement behind Ayman as the door slammed open. A roar of anger filled the room. Then the figure was flying across the room, slamming into Ayman and pulling him off her.

  Stand. Run.

  But she couldn’t seem to move, and she tried to focus on the two figures wrestling before her. Hope and relief soared through her, and she choked on a near laugh.

  Travis? How?

  …

  With Jace at his side, they’d managed to neutralize the men who met them at the door and force their way into the suite. At seeing their entry, four men had burst forward, guns drawn and ready to fight. But they had nowhere near the same training as Travis and Jace, and they easily outmaneuvered them, with only one fatality when the guy wouldn’t stand down—Travis had shot him before the guy put a bullet in his friend.

  The body had barely crumpled when Meredith’s scream tore through him, sharper than any bullet, and he’d raced to the door and shoved it open.

  Meredith was on the floor, Ayman on top of her. A white-hot rage like no other had surged through Travis. He was going to tear the guy apart.

  Ayman had barely turned his head toward the door when Travis slammed into him, taking him with him as they rolled to the floor, away from Meredith. He stole a moment to see if she was okay, and his gut wrenched at the blood and swelling on her face, the dazed look as she lay there, the fight gone from her. It was the fuel he needed.

  He would show no mercy.

  It was only when the man’s head finally fell back, unconscious from the last blow, that reality seeped into his brain.

  Meredith.

  He reached her side and lifted her up, and she winced under his slight pressure. “Think…my ribs. Hurts to breathe,” she managed.

  “You’re safe. They can’t hurt you or anyone. Never again.”

  “Darcy.” She started up, as if to stand, but she stopped and gasped.

  Hell, she could have a couple of fractured ribs. Maybe internal bleeding. He considered walking back over the guy, unconscious or not, to kick him until he heard the satisfying crunch of ribs under his foot. But that would involve letting Meredith go.

  “Jace went to get her. She’ll be fine.”

  The crash in the room behind him told him that reinforcements had arrived. The question was, whose?

  A moment later, the room was filled with uniformed police officers, their guns raised as they looked around the room, assessing it. He tossed his own gun a few feet away so he wouldn’t be perceived as threat.

  “Are you Travis or Jace?” one of them asked him.

  “Travis.” Meems must have filled them in. Saving him a lot of trouble.

  He glanced down to see Meredith’s response to the action.

  But her eyes were closed. She was absolutely still.

  His heart felt like it would leap through his chest. “We need an ambulance,” he heard someone say, and he brought his fingers to the side of her neck, desperate for a pulse.

  Barely.

  But it was there.

  “Mom!” he heard someone shout and looked up to see a young girl with dark blond hair and wide brown eyes run in. Darcy. She dropped to the floor, reaching out to touch Meredith’s hand.

  “She’s going to be okay,” he told her, not sure entirely but needing it to be so.

  It wasn’t until the paramedics arrived and checked her—assuring Darcy that Meredith wasn’t critical but they were taking her to the hospital—that he allowed the police to question him about what had happened.

  He answered their questions, careful to keep his face neutral as he watched them carry Meredith out on the stretcher. He dug his card out and handed it to one of the guys. “If you have any more questions, you can call me. Otherwise, I’m going with her and her daughter to the hospital.”

  It wasn’t until he looked into Meredith’s hospital room an hour later, seeing her lying there in a drugged sleep as her daughter held her hand, that he was able to breathe.

  A hand rested on his arm. Meems.

  “She’s going to be okay, Travis,” she said, echoing what he’d said earlier to Darcy.

  He nodded briefly. “Yeah. I know.”

  He’d done his job. Gotten the client her daughter back—and saved her life in the process. Everyone should be happy.

  He should be happy.

  Meredith would be fine. She had her daughter back. She could return to her life and everything that meant so much to her. The games, the schemes. The same old battle for queen bee. Whatever. It wasn’t his concern.

  Jace joined them. “Looks like everything worked out. Are you heading back home? Maybe that long vacation to Key West you keep promising yourself?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. As soon as they’re both delivered safely home, I’m outta here.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Meredith had been standing in the doorway of her daughter’s room staring at the miracle for the past half hour. Her daughter, safe in her own bed, peacefully sleeping.

  If only sleep would come so easily for Meredith.

  Darcy sighed and rolled over, away from the light in the hallway. Meredith stood back and closed the door and headed to her own room, wincing with each step.

  She’d been released from the hospital this morning. She’d slept through most of yesterday, Sunday, waking for a few minutes that night to find Darcy at her side. They’d talked, and that had been nice until she fell asleep again and woke up this morning, more refreshed and ready to get home. But she was still aching. There was a bottle of pain pills in her room, but she wasn’t ready yet to numb everything.

  As much as she wanted to.

  She flipped off her bedroom light and slipped into the coolness of her sheets. She closed her eyes, trying to succumb to the immense fatigue weighing on her body.

  Instantly, a memory replayed in her mind—that distant look in Travis’s eyes as he and Jace helped them into the private plane that would take them back to Salt Lake hours ago.

  He’d been cordial, helpful, but downright distant. Meems had made idle conversation with Darcy during the one-hour flight back, but she’d barely heard it, instead watching Travis stare stonily out the window. Refusing to meet her gaze.

  She had wanted to explain to him what happened the other night. Excuse her behavior. But her heart was heavy, because she’d realized that she couldn’t continue to offer excuses anymore. The time had come for her to rise above, and she’d failed miserably.

  Just as he must have known she would.

  They’d stood at the door of the taxi that would take them home, Darcy giving both men grateful bear hugs. When it was Meredith’s turn to say good-bye, she’d taken Jace’s hand first, then Meems’s, saving Travis for last. His hand had been strong and familiar in hers and their eyes had met briefly before they let go.

  That had been the extent of their last moment. Almost like everything they’d gone through over the past few days had never happened.

  Like he hadn’t told he
r she was witty and strong and beautiful. A moment she recognized now as when she finally realized the extent of her feelings for the man.

  She’d fallen in love with him.

  And they’d made love. Connected as she had never connected with anyone. And for a moment she’d been happy. Hopeful.

  Until she screwed it all up. Drove him away.

  Reaching over to her nightstand, she grabbed the pills and tossed one back.

  To hell with it. She could use one night of undisturbed sleep, free from the pain and memories and regrets.

  …

  It was only ten the next morning, and she was just making a second pot of coffee for herself and Darcy when someone rang the doorbell. Darcy was upstairs in the shower, and as Meredith walked to the door, she heard her daughter’s singing waft down the stairs. Something she’d ordinarily have smiled at, but right now, her heart was racing.

  Hoping.

  That maybe Travis had come back.

  She swept the door open even as she processed that the silhouette of the person on the other side couldn’t be Travis, it was too small.

  Allie stood, bright eyed and smiling, a bag of bagels in her hands.

  Hold it together, Mer. You’ve been so strong. Don’t cry now.

  But she couldn’t help it, and for the third time that week, the hot tickle of the first tear slipped down her cheek. But she wouldn’t ugly cry. No. Absolutely not.

  Famous last words.

  …

  “So how long are you sticking around?” Claire asked, sipping a cup of tea, her legs tucked under her as she studied her brother from her seat on the couch.

  He took a long draw from his beer, the first one he’d permitted himself since officially going off the clock. “Just until tomorrow. Thought I’d make sure you’re going to be okay, and then I was thinking of heading for a long and much-needed vacation. Have you heard from Rick?”

  He and Claire had called a tentative truce when he showed up last night, and he’d crashed in her spare room, sleeping close to twelve hours, only waking up an hour before. They’d been keeping things light, just discussing what had taken place at the warehouse and in Vegas. Nothing personal on either side.