by Jane Jamison
She had her foot on the first step when she heard the masculine voices. Freezing, she strained to hear what they were saying but couldn’t make out the words. Footsteps echoed on the rich hardwood, and she moved away from the steps.
What if the guy who’d brought her there had done it against her will? Had she been kidnapped? Another thought, however, was even more chilling. Had she been drugged? She sure as hell felt as though she’d been drugged. She’d never felt this horrible even after her worst night of partying. And worse, what if she’d been raped?
She rolled her lips under to keep from letting out a cry. No, she wouldn’t believe the worst. Not until she found out what was going on.
But there was another hard question to answer. Did she sneak out of the house and try to find her way back home? Or did she confront the man who’d possibly drugged, kidnapped, and raped her?
Run like the wind.
But she’d never been the type to listen to her first impulse. If someone had done something wrong to her, she wanted to know who it was. Once she did, she’d show him how she could kick ass.
Her head and body aches were forgotten as anger surged through her. Following the sound of male voices, she hurried down the staircase and then barefooted it toward a swinging door. One breath and she shoved the door wide, stepping into the brightly lit kitchen.
“Which one of you assholes kidnapped me?”
The three men seated at the oval wooden table turned to gape at her.
“What’d you say?” asked the blond one. His green eyes twinkled over a smile that could melt an ice queen.
She put her arms down, planted her feet apart, and got ready to protect herself. “You heard me. Who the hell brought me here?” The sound of her voice reverberated in her pounding head.
The other two men were as handsome as the blond. Their black hair gleamed under the beautifully simple chandelier. One had black eyes that seemed depthless while the other man’s eyes were a strange, intriguing silver color.
The blond stood up and lifted his hand as though she were taking roll in a classroom. “That would be me.”
“You drugged me.” She was on the offensive, ready to make him confess. Then she’d beat the hell out of him. Or, more likely, finally run.
Irritation flashed in his emerald eyes. “No, I didn’t.”
The black-eyed one chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “Actually, he saved your pretty little ass.”
She blinked, thrown for a moment by pretty and little. They were words she’d never heard in combination with the word ass. At least, not while referring to her wide butt. “What?”
“You were drunk as a skunk and needed someone to take care of you. My friend Pike stepped in to play knight-in-shining-armor.” The one with the spectacular silver eyes stood and offered her his hand. “I’m Coltrane Kinsburg. What’s your last name, Harper?”
She must’ve told them her first name at some point. Some of her anger dissipated, but she still ignored his hand. “So he brought me home? Why not put me in a cab and send me to my place?”
“I’m not used to putting women into cabs and then forgetting about them.” The blond placed his palm against his chest. “I’m Pike Killian, and these two are my friends. The other one is Roth Kinsburg, Coltrane’s brother. Well, half-brother if you get picky about it.”
“You were going in and out of consciousness. Plus, you didn’t have any ID on you.” Coltrane’s smile reeked of insinuation. “We checked.”
She wasn’t the type to blush. Instead, she shot him a hard look. “Yeah, I noticed.” Settling her gaze on Pike, she asked, “What happened once you got me here? Whose house is this, anyway?”
“It’s our home. Yeah, that’s right. All three of us live in one house. Just makes sense with the three of us running the ranch. This is the Flying K Ranch, by the way.” Pike motioned to his friends then to himself. “Get it? Two Kinsburgs and a Killian? We’re the three Ks.”
“Uh-huh. But you didn’t answer my other question.” Sure, they were hot as hell, and if she’d met them at a bar, she wouldn’t have thought twice about taking one of them to bed. Her gaze swept over them, loving every inch. Maybe she’d take two of them to bed if she were feeling really adventurous. Hell, maybe even three, fulfilling one of her fantasies. She mentally gave herself a shake, bringing her thoughts back to what needed to be addressed. She wouldn’t be too upset if they’d helped her, but if they’d done anything against her will, then that was a different matter.
“We tried to sober you up by putting you in the shower,” answered Roth. “It didn’t work. Then we gave up and put you to bed to let you sleep it off.”
“You didn’t have to take my dress off to put me in a bed.” They’d seen her naked. As much as she knew she shouldn’t think it, she still wondered what they’d thought of her body. As in shape as they were, they’d probably laughed at her chubby flab. “Where’s my dress, anyway?”
“Gotta disagree with you on that one. You’d fallen down several times while I was picking you up off the train tracks. You were filthy and we wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt. So, yeah, we took it off.”
Pike seemed likeable enough. Honest, too, if her usually correct gut was right. “Wait. You picked me up off the train tracks?” How had she wound up there?
“That’s where I found you.”
She struggled again to make her brain function. “I went to my new boss’s wedding and then the reception. I remember being there.”
“You must’ve done some hard celebrating.”
As much as she wanted to disagree with Roth, she couldn’t. “I drank some, yes, but I don’t think I drank enough to pass out.” She’d never gone on a bender before.
“What else do you remember?” asked Coltrane.
His expression made her think that his question was more important than his casual tone would indicate. “I remember getting a text from—” She stalled. They didn’t have to know her personal business. “Like I said, I remember being at the wedding and the reception.”
“Here. Take a seat.” Pike oozed charm as he pulled out a chair. “I promise we won’t bite. Besides, if we’d wanted to hurt you, we’ve had a lot of time to do it.”
She took the seat and wrapped her arms around her, suddenly feeling less than confident. “This is Sunday, isn’t it? I slept through the night?”
“You sure did.”
“And nothing else happened?” She paused, trying to see if she felt any different. Other than the bruises and aches, she felt fine.
The look the men exchanged was a definite answer. “What?” She was up and on her feet again, her body tensing. “You said you didn’t do anything to me. I’m warning you. If you did, I’m going wail some heavy-duty ass-kicking on your sorry butts.”
Most men weren’t intimidated by her, and they weren’t an exception. But they didn’t know she was pretty damn good at defending herself. She might not be a lean, mean fighting machine, but sometimes extra body weight helped.
“Hey, hold on. Nothing else happened. At least, not here.”
“Pike,” warned Roth. “We agreed.”
“You agreed on what? On keeping something from me?”
“She needs to know. What if she’s in trouble?”
What were they talking about? Was she in trouble? They remained seated making her feel safer. “Tell me what you’re talking about. Now.”
Another hard exchange brought Coltrane out of his chair and Roth practically snarling at Pike. Coltrane strode over to the kitchen window then faced her. “Remember, you were drunk.”
“And?” She clenched her fists and got ready for the rest of whatever he might say.
“You muttered something about seeing a murder.”
“A murder?” An image of Mike flashed through her mind. “I didn’t kill someone, did I?”
“No.” Roth’s eyebrows rose up. “At least not that you said. You said you saw a murder. Not that you did the murdering.”
“Who
? Who’d I see murdered?” Yet before they could answer, another memory struck her so hard that she wobbled on her feet.
Dr. Rump lying on the ground.
Dr. Rump with blood oozing out of him.
Coltrane was by her side faster than she’d thought anyone could move. “Easy.”
It felt good to have him supporting her, but she couldn’t give in to the wonderful feeling. She didn’t know who these men were or what had really gone down. The worst part was that she couldn’t decide if the memory was real or not.
“Dr. Rump. I saw someone kill Dr. Rump.” All her energy to fight was gone, replaced by a knot in her stomach.
“Are you sure?” Pike was by her as fast as Coltrane had moved and took her other arm. “I mean people think they see strange shit when they’re drunk.”
Was the memory really a memory? Or was it a product of an alcohol-soaked mind?
“Do you remember anything else? Like anything after you saw him killed?”
She wasn’t sure what Pike was getting at. “You mean like the killer? No.” At least, she didn’t think so. But why couldn’t she shake the impression that she was wrong?
“No. I mean later by the train tracks?”
“Like what? You?” She studied him, trying to understand why that question seemed more important than the fact that she’d seen a murder. Or maybe seen a murder. Pain renewed its attack inside her head, drumming incessantly and making it difficult to think. “I don’t remember seeing you.”
Why did they all seem so relieved?
“Look, Harper, you’ve been through a lot. How about we take you to your home? Maybe after you get cleaned up and you’re in a familiar place, things will start coming back to you.”
Cleaned up? She resisted the urged to sniff her armpit.
“I don’t have anything with me. Not my purse or my phone.” She checked around her but wasn’t surprised when she didn’t find a landline. “Could I use a phone to call a friend?”
“We’ll take you home,” said Roth.
“I don’t think so.”
His black eyes locked onto her. “Again, if we’d wanted to do anything, we could have. All we want to do is to make sure you get home. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”
If any other man had said the same thing, she might’ve laughed. But they seemed older, wiser than all the thirty-something-year-old men she’d ever met. All of them had a confidence that usually came only with years of life experience. It wasn’t the cockiness that the men, really boys, around her twenty-eight years had.
“How about you run back upstairs while I get your dress for you?” Pike pulled her away from Coltrane—was that a scowl on Coltrane’s face—then wrapped his arm around her waist to lead her out of the kitchen and down the hallway toward the staircase.
“So you do have my dress?”
“Cleaned, pressed, and hanging in the laundry room. You go ahead upstairs and hop in the shower. I’ll bring it up to you.”
“You cleaned my dress?”
“Yep. Pike’s a regular Suzy Homemaker when he wants to be.”
Coltrane’s verbal jab didn’t appear to bother Pike. “Go on. I’ll be up in about fifteen minutes.”
“There’s a new toothbrush and toothpaste in the middle drawer,” offered Roth.
“And soap, towels, and other stuff in the linen closet in the bathroom.” Coltrane winced. “Damn. Now we all sound like we’re perfect little housewives.”
She couldn’t help but smile as she started up the steps. “No, you don’t.”
“She’s right. We’re men who are confident enough in our manhood to know how to make a guest feel welcome.” Pike winked and then landed a pat on her bottom. “My shorts look really good on you.”
It wasn’t often that she was at a loss for words, but she was then. The slap that had caught her off-guard had an unexpected side effect. Warmth rushed through her, traveling over her butt and into her pussy. She was turned halfway back to tell him to keep his hands off her when the lust hit her. Gripping the railing tightly, she shot him a look that was a combination of warning and appreciation. Without saying anything, she took the stairs two at a time.
* * * *
Less than an hour later, Harper walked off the elevator, leading to her apartment in one of the newer Dallas high-rise buildings. “I hope my roommate is home. Otherwise, I’ll have to call the manager to let me inside.”
She was between Roth and Coltrane with Pike on the other side of Roth. Being caught between the two large men made her feel small. Not only in height but in size as well. It was a pleasant feeling she didn’t experience often. By the time they’d gone down the hallway and made it to her front door, she was reluctant to have the feeling end.
“What’s your roomie like?” asked Roth.
She hesitated, unwilling to give her usual answer of “she looks a lot like me except skinny.” Instead, she found a different way to describe her. “Carly has the same coloring as me, but she’s a lot less outgoing.” She smiled, liking the way she’d described her friend and roomie, as she reached for the doorknob. “She’s one of my best friends.”
Her smile faded, however, when the doorknob turned. How many times had she fussed at Carly for leaving the door unlocked? If a burglar really wanted to get inside, he’d find a way, but why make it easier for him? “I guess she forgot to lock the door.”
“Does she do that a lot?”
Was that concern in Roth’s voice? It had been a long time since any man, even her latest and not-so-greatest boyfriend, had showed any real concern. “Unfortunately, yes. But I guess it’s a good thing she did.”
She pushed the door open and then came to an abrupt stop. “What’s going on?” A chair was overturned and lying in the foyer. The coffee table was pushed against the sofa and the vase of fresh flowers that Carly insisted on keeping there was on the carpet, the water darkening the beige rug.
“Carly?”
Before she could move, Coltrane grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “Don’t go any farther.”
“Why?”
“Just keep back.”
Pike and Roth kept going, their movements precise, their bodies tense, reminding her of policemen on a crime show entering a dangerous area. Coltrane eased her against the wall and positioned his body in front of hers.
She tried to see past his huge bulk, bending one way and then the other, but it didn’t help. Pike and Roth had disappeared, either going into the small kitchen to the left or the two bedrooms on the right.
Swallowing was difficult as alarm pricked at her nerves. “Do you think someone robbed us? Oh, shit. Where’s Carly?” She pushed against his back but got nowhere. He blocked her every effort to get past him. “I have to make sure she’s all right.”
“Everything looks okay in the kitchen,” said Roth.
She leaned around Coltrane. “Where’s Pike?”
“Here.”
They all turned toward Pike as he came out of the hallway leading to the bedrooms. No longer ready to spring into action, he moved slowly toward them. His expression had her fear climbing. His next words froze her heart.
“Roth, call the cops.”
“What? Why? Did the burglar take something?”
He didn’t have to answer. The sadness in his eyes was enough to send terror racing cold through her veins.
Carly.
She ran toward him but didn’t get very far. The men were on her before she could make it into the hallway. “Let me go!”
Pike took her face between his hands. “No. You don’t want to go in there.”
Fear had warped into terror that stiffened her body. Still, she struggled to get free, pushing at his hands. “Is it Carly? Did something happen to her? Tell me.” Her words were a plea. A plea for him to say everything was all right. A plea for him to tell her what she feared the most wasn’t true.
“I’m sorry, Harper.”
“Nooo.” Moaning, she let her body go limp. When it did, when they ligh
tened their hold on her, she shoved hard, breaking free. She bounded toward the hallway, but they were on her heels faster than she would’ve thought possible. Knocking over a small side table, she thwarted their efforts to grab her.
She made it to Carly’s bedroom then slammed to a stop. They were beside her in the next moment, and although they tried to get her to turn away, she wouldn’t.
“No.” Her whisper was filled with agony.
Carly lay on the floor of her bedroom. Blood, long dried, caked her body and colored the carpet. But the worst of it was her face. All that was left of Carly’s beautiful face was a mangled mess of blood, bone, and gore.
Every bit of struggle flowed out of Harper. This time when her body gave out, it wasn’t a trick.
“Take her back into the living room,” ordered Pike. He stepped in front of her, blocking her view.
But the memory of how her friend looked would live on in her memory. She crumpled against Roth. He lifted her off her feet, cradling her against him as though she were a small child weary for bed.
It wasn’t until he’d placed her gently down on the couch that she could speak again. “She’s dead, isn’t she?” As if anyone could survive the brutality of the attack and still live.
“I’m sorry, baby. She’s gone.”
Vaguely, she heard Coltrane’s deep voice as he called the police and reported her friend’s murder.
Murder.
Had she actually seen Dr. Rump killed and now her friend was gone, too? Was her world spinning out of control, lost in a cyclone of misery? She moaned and leaned against Roth’s strong form.
“We’re here for you, baby.”
She hadn’t been home for Carly. Instead, she’d gotten plastered and ended up spending the night with three men she didn’t know. Maybe if she’d been home, the killer would’ve chosen someone else’s apartment. Maybe if she’d been home, she could’ve protected Carly. Maybe if she’d been home, she’d be lying on the floor in a pool of blood instead of her friend.
Closing her eyes, she tried to shut out a world that had suddenly grown cruel. She moaned, the loss of her friend searing a deep, burning pain through her until she was sure she’d go insane.
