Since the moment they’d left Sandy’s farmhouse, he should have realized how fragile she was. He should have anticipated that anything might have the capacity to shove her into a breakdown.
Her angry display at Sandy’s, replaced by her frantic need to make love, had all pointed to the rain of tears that now possessed her. It was all too much for her and he wished there was a way he could take on some of her grief, shoulder it for her, but he knew he couldn’t.
She sobbed out a lifetime of grief in a span of two or three minutes. He held her close, murmured nonsensical comfort into her ear and patted her back.
Although he was worried about the dog, he was also grateful that the phone call had halted their lovemaking before it had actually happened.
He’d been about to make love to her without any protection, without any thought of consequences. They’d been about to make a mistake that they might have paid for for the rest of their lives.
“If anything happens to Big Sam, I don’t know what I’ll do,” she cried into the front of his shirt as her fingers bit into his shoulders. “I can’t stand the thought of losing him, too.”
He knew that her tears were for more than the beloved dog, but there was nothing he could say to convince her that her world would ever be right again.
“Brianna.” He gently took her by the shoulders and held her back from him. “You told me Mike is a terrific vet, and I’m sure he’ll do everything in his power to save Big Sam, but we need to go in case he needs help.”
She nodded and as she raised her face to look at him again he tenderly swiped at her tears. As he stared into her misty blue eyes, he realized she would haunt him for a long time to come.
Minutes later they were in his car and headed down the two-lane highway that led to Precious Pets.
A full moon cast down from a cloudless sky as Troy drove as fast as possible without putting them at risk. As always he kept an eye on the rearview mirror, making sure they weren’t followed, but at this time of night and on these country roads, there were no other cars except theirs.
Neither of them spoke for several minutes, then it was Troy who broke the silence. “Tomorrow before I take you home I’ll contact Kincaid. He’ll see to it that you have twenty-four-hour police protection until they can figure out what’s going on.”
He hadn’t been sure until now if he was going to agree with her decision to return home in the morning, but after almost falling into bed with her again, he knew it was best for both of them.
Still, even as he said the words, he felt a strange kind of despair. And in that despair he realized how much he’d wanted to be a hero for her, how much he’d wanted to fix everything for her.
They were no closer to finding the source of the threat against her, and maybe Kincaid and his men would have better luck figuring all this out. Troy recognized that it was time for him to bow out, but that didn’t make it any less difficult.
“That’s fine, whatever,” she said, her mind obviously on other things. “Mike said it looked bad,” she said, her worry for Big Sam deepening her voice.
“We’ll know more when we get there,” he replied. It would be particularly cruel of fate to take away Big Sam at this point in her life. She was already reeling from the absence of her father and the fact that somebody was trying to harm her. He sent up a silent plea that the dog be spared. She needed a break.
“He’s got to be all right. He’s just got to be. I was going to buy a house with a fenced yard. He was going to be my dog.” She released a shuddering sigh that held suppressed tears.
Troy didn’t reply. He had no words for her that would help.
It took twenty long minutes to get from the safe house to Precious Pets. When they pulled up in front of the building, the place looked deserted. No lights shone from the windows although Mike’s truck was parked along the side of the building as it had been earlier that morning.
“He must be in the back,” Brianna said as she got out of the car. “That’s where the operating facility is.”
She ran toward the front door and Troy hurried after her. Frantically she jabbed her key at the lock, her hand trembling so badly she had trouble hitting the hole. Troy took the keys from her and unlocked the door.
She threw it open and without bothering to turn on any lights raced toward the back room. Troy followed, the shimmer of moonlight drifting through the windows making her visible as she entered the kennel room.
Dogs began to bark and whine as she called to Mike, her cries barely audible above the din. An un easiness filled Troy, but he tamped it down.
When she reached the back of the kennels, she came to a closed door. No light filtered out from beneath the door but she yanked it open anyway, then turned to look at Troy. “He’s not here,” she said. He saw the twist of grief and fear on her face. “Maybe we’re too late. Maybe Big Sam is already dead.”
“Don’t jump to any conclusions. Let’s go back outside. Mike’s truck is still here. He’s got to be around here someplace,” he suggested.
She nodded and walked in front of him toward the front of the building. The uneasiness inside him grew. All his instincts began to scream that something wasn’t right. But he didn’t know if he was somehow reacting to a real threat of danger or to the emotional impact of the situation.
Where was Mike?
Where was Big Sam?
When he and Brianna had come in the front door, had Mike been carrying the dead dog out the back to load the body in the bed of his truck?
The constant barking was giving Troy a headache, making it difficult for him to think clearly. Mike had known they were on their way here, so where was he?
He was just ready to step out of the back room and back into the reception area when all the dogs seemed to stop barking to collect their breath for a second, and in that momentary silence, he thought he heard a footstep behind him.
He began to turn, but something slammed into the back of his head with such force he crumbled to the floor. The last thing he heard was Brianna screaming his name—then nothing.
BRIANNA STOOD FROZEN and stared at Mike in the semidarkness of the room. Terror rose up inside her as she gazed at Troy’s still, unmoving body. Mike stood over him, a metal bar in his hand.
“Mike?” Her mind grappled to make sense of what had just happened. Why would Mike attack Troy? It didn’t make sense.
Mike threw the bar aside. It clattered to the floor as he pulled a gun from his pocket. “Hello, Bree.”
A fierce trembling overtook her. Troy remained unmoving. Was he dead? Had the blow to his head killed him? She tore her gaze from Troy and once again looked at Mike. Why? What was going on? Why had he attacked Troy?
“Mike, what are you doing? What’s going on? Wha…what do you want?” she asked.
He walked closer to her and pulled a length of rope from his pocket. “Right now I want you to shut up and turn around.” The gun was pointed at her chest and there was no waver in his hand, no sense of hesitation in the brown depths of his eyes. She’d never known that brown eyes could be so cold, so empty of humanity.
She backed up and frantically looked around, seeking a weapon, a means of escape, but there was nothing. And in any case she couldn’t escape and leave Troy. He needed immediate medical attention…if he wasn’t already dead. A sob welled up in the back of her throat at this thought, but she swallowed it. She couldn’t think about that now. She couldn’t think about Troy right now.
“I said turn around,” Mike shouted.
She hesitated and then complied, the tone of his voice frightening her more than she’d ever been frightened in her life.
He tied her hands behind her back, then shoved her to the floor and used another piece of rope to tie her feet together.
“Why are you doing this? Mike, talk to me.” She felt as if she’d walked into a nightmare, one that made no sense, that she couldn’t figure out but that terrified her.
He used another length of rope to tie her bound a
nkles to the foot of the receptionist desk, then stood and smiled down at her. “We’ll talk when I get back. First I have to take the trash out.” He gestured toward Troy.
“Leave him alone,” she cried, tears welling up in her eyes. “Whatever is wrong, it’s between me and you. Mike, just leave him out of it.” The words tore from her throat in a savage scream.
“Shut up,” he yelled. He stuffed his gun in his waistband, then walked over to Troy and picked up his feet. He began to drag Troy’s body across the floor and out the front door.
When he was gone, a deep sob escaped Brianna and she began to struggle to get free of the ropes that bound her. But he’d tied them with the purpose of keeping her captive. The knots were tight and with her hands behind her back, it was impossible to free her legs.
As she struggled, her mind raced. She’d never done anything to Mike except treat him with respect, as a valuable member of her team. Why was he doing this? What could this possibly be about?
And what about Troy? If he wasn’t already dead, did Mike intend to kill him? Where was Mike taking him? The full horror of what was happening was just beginning to sink in.
She pulled with her legs against the desk, but the desk was too heavy to move. If she could reach the phone on top maybe she could knock the receiver off the hook and use her tongue to punch in 911.
With tears half-blinding her, she tried to sit up enough to reach the top of the desk. Her tears stopped momentarily as she focused on maneuvering her body into position. But she began a new round of weeping as she managed a look on the desktop and saw that the phone had been removed.
At least she hadn’t heard a gunshot. Although she realized it was possible that Mike didn’t have to shoot Troy, that Troy was already dead.
It was all her fault. He had nothing to do with this. He’d simply been pulled into this mess by doing a favor for a fellow ex-Navy man. When her father had been kidnapped she should have insisted that he drop the case. If she’d done that he’d be fine right now.
Had Mike killed her father? Once again she was back to trying to make sense of it all. Why? If he was going to kill her, she just hoped she knew the reason before she died.
Minutes ticked by, agonizing minutes of waiting, of watching the doorway for his return. She continued to try to get free from the ropes but made no progress in untying the tight knots. The dogs in the back room had quieted, and she was left only with her own thoughts.
She wished she’d come home from California a year ago, two years ago. She’d lost so much time with her father, time that she would probably never reclaim. How she desperately wished she’d put that part of her life behind her, exchanged the designer gowns and paparazzi for jeans and family photos.
And she wished she’d told Troy she loved him.
Even though she knew he didn’t love her back, at least not in the way she loved him, she wished she would have said the words to him, let him know that she thought he was a wonderful man.
She didn’t want to die, felt as if she hadn’t truly begun living. She’d had so many plans for her life, plans that she’d just been beginning to realize.
Her breath caught in her throat as Mike reappeared in the doorway. On his pleasant, average face, she saw a hatred she didn’t understand, a hatred that she knew was deadly.
“What did you do to Troy? Where have you taken him?” she asked, her voice sounding pathetically weak and reedy to her own ears. “Damn you,” she exclaimed, her voice stronger as rage filled her. “What have you done with him?”
He merely smiled. “We don’t have to worry about him anymore. He won’t be playing the white knight and rushing to save you. Nobody is going to save you, Brianna. It’s just you and me now.”
She stared at him in horror.
TROY REGAINED CONSCIOUSNESS in bits and pieces, the back of his head screaming with pain. All he wanted to do was go back to sleep, back to the darkness where pain hadn’t existed, but beneath the pain simmered an urgency that refused to allow him the pleasure of drifting into unconsciousness again.
He lay on his back and slowly became aware of the scent of grass and an unpleasant odor of animal surrounding him. Why was he outside? He opened his eyes and stared into nothing. No stars. No moon. Nothing but an impenetrable blackness.
He frowned, the gesture shooting a sharp stab of pain through his skull. Where was he? What had happened? Again the darkness called, beckoning him with a siren song to fall into it, to release his tenuous hold on consciousness. But he fought against it and pulled himself into a sitting position.
Brianna. Her name shot through him and suddenly everything came tumbling back. Big Sam. The phone call from Mike. Mike! Troy reached up a hand and touched the back of his head. Although incredibly painful and sporting a large lump, there didn’t seem to be any blood.
Brianna! What was happening to her?
He struggled to get to his feet and his head slammed into a low ceiling he hadn’t known was there. Where was he? Crouched down, he swept a hand out and encountered a wooden wall.
He moved several steps forward, still exploring with his hands. His hand touched a bag of some kind and like a blind person explored it by touch. It was a large bag, opened at the top, and as he felt the dry nuggets that it contained he realized it was dog food.
So he must be in a storage shed of some kind. His foot connected with something and he heard a low moan.
He nearly shot out of his skin as he realized wherever he was, he wasn’t alone. “Who’s there?” he asked, his body poised with fight or flight adrenaline.
Another moan filled the air. Troy leaned down to see what his foot had connected with and as he reached out he touched a man’s shoe. The shoe was on a foot, and the foot belonged to a body that shared the space with him. A live body.
“Brandon?” he guessed.
“Help me.”
The voice was pitifully weak but Troy recognized it as Brandon Waverly’s. He was alive! Thank God. “It’s me, Brandon. It’s Troy. It’s all right,” he said. “You’re going to be okay.”
“Troy? Drugged, can’t get up. Weak as a baby,” Brandon muttered.
Troy crawled in the direction of Brandon’s head. “Are you hurt?”
“No, just so weak. How’d you find me? Who did this?”
“You don’t know?” Troy asked.
“Never saw him…the man who took me. He wore a mask. He’s kept me drugged, but I’ve never seen his face, never heard his voice.”
“It was Mike, the veterinarian who works at Precious Pets,” Troy replied.
Troy worked his hands around the perimeter and realized the wooden structure that held them was small but tightly built.
He found the hinges and the fastening of the door, but it was locked. He pushed against it, but felt no give. His head banged with a nauseating intensity. Think. He had to think. There had to be a way out. He had to get to Brianna.
“Troy,” Brandon’s weak voice called from the darkness. “If you’re in here with me, then where is our girl? Where’s Brianna?”
Troy threw himself against the door once again, trying to break through the lock that held them captive. He didn’t answer Brandon. He couldn’t tell the man that while he and Brandon were trapped inside here, his daughter was out there with a madman.
Chapter Thirteen
“You thought you could just waltz back here and take over?” Mike bent down to untie her from the desk leg. “You really thought you could spend all this time in Hollywood partying and then decide to come back here and run the business I’ve put my sweat and blood in?”
Brianna stared at his twisted features in stunned surprise. “That’s what this is all about? You’re afraid you won’t be in charge here at Precious Pets?” A hysterical laugh nearly left her lips, but she bit it back, afraid of his reaction.
He got her loose from the desk, then worked on the ropes that bound her ankles together. He shook his head and gave her a sly smile. “You don’t know everything that goes on h
ere. You and your daddy were going to screw things up for me. If you’d just died in that nightclub in California, then none of this would be necessary.”
Brianna gasped. “You? You tried to kill me in that nightclub?”
He laughed, a sharp bark of sound that held no humor. “If it had been me, you’d be dead. Unfortunately, I left the job to a business associate of mine and he didn’t get the job done.”
“But why? I don’t understand.” She twisted her legs away from him, wanting to buy herself time, wanting to get some answers that made sense. “If you want me dead, then at least tell me why.”
He sat back on his haunches, obviously not worried about anyone coming to her aid. And who would? It was the middle of the night. They were in the middle of nowhere and for all she knew Troy was dead. She shoved this thought aside, knowing that if she dwelled on it she’d go mad.
She had to keep her wits about her. She had to figure out how to get out of this, a way to escape, and she couldn’t do that with despair, with mind-numbing grief clouding her thoughts.
“Do you have any idea how much money can be made selling designer dogs? Those little hybrid pets that you women in Hollywood carry around like accessories? It’s a huge business and I’ve been cashing in. Back in the woods I’ve got a million dollar business going on, and you and your father were about to screw it all up.”
He grabbed her legs once again and held them tight. “I knew I could slow down the mall development long enough to find another place to conduct my business, but then you showed up here with the sudden decision to be a part of all this.” The words spat out of him.
“It was easy to get everyone stirred up about the mall development. All I had to do was get that nut Stafford involved, and I knew I’d buy myself some time. Then you came back to town and I knew I needed to get more creative. I figured if your father was kidnapped, you’d be so busy you wouldn’t have time to think about Precious Pets. But I knew you were a problem that needed to be taken care of permanently.” His face twisted with rage once again. “I can’t have you here. This place is mine. That business is mine.”
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