* * * * *
Nolan walked into the kitchen, toweling off his hair. He hadn’t tried to sleep; that would have been a worthless effort. But pounding on the bag in his workout room had eased the anger, and a hot shower cleared his mind. Nothing would help the hollow feeling deep in his chest.
As he poured a cup of coffee, he saw the message light blinking on his answering machine. He grunted. The way his life was going, probably one of his new office buildings had collapsed. He flicked the switch and leaned against the counter to listen.
“Nolan. Sir. I was going to call you. I mean I was going to call you before and try to apologize, only now...” Beth’s voice. Thick. Wavering.
He set his coffee down slowly, feeling like someone had stomped on his chest. She’d been crying...was still crying. His guilt layered higher, brick by brick.
“Now I’m saying goodbye too.” He heard a shaky breath. “And I’m not making sense. God, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lied to you and made you... I shouldn’t have let you f-fuck me once I knew how you felt about married women.”
He winced at the word. Bad enough he’d used it, worse that she could apply it to an act that had been much more than just sex.
“But I couldn’t get a divorce. I ran away. He’ll kill me if he finds me; that’s how my fingers got broken, from the last time. So I couldn’t... But I should have told you.”
With the sound of her sob, he stalked across the kitchen. The need to wrap his arms around her and comfort her was a burning knot inside.
“But it doesn’t matter; nothing matters now. Mom said Kyler knows I’m in Tampa, so I have to leave, and I’ll never get a chance to make this right.” A sniffle, silence. “Anyway, I just wanted... I wanted to thank you. I wanted more time with you. I...” A gulping sob. “Be well, Master.”
He stared at the machine. Surely she had more to say, hadn’t just hung up. Dammit, say more! He slammed his hand on the counter next to the phone, making his coffee slosh over the side of the cup.
A sick feeling grew inside him. What had he done? Damn his blindness. He’d known her last lover, husband or not, was the one who’d beat the crap out of her. He’d known the bastard had scarred her mentally and physically. He’d known she’d probably run from him. And filled with self-righteous crap, he’d come down on the little rabbit like a truckload of bricks.
How the hell could he blame her for doing anything she needed to ensure her own safety? “He’ll kill me if he finds me.” She’d done what was necessary to survive.
Fuck... He felt like she’d slapped him upside of the head with a two-by-four instead of a phone call. He snorted. Being Beth, she hadn’t been trying to change his mind. She’d just wanted to apologize and say goodbye.
What did he want?
He scrubbed his hands over his face. Face it, idiot. The little sub had gotten to him with that combination of fear and trust, of passion and innocence. With her love of beauty and her willingness to work like a dog to achieve it. With her growing need to please him and her surprise when he cared for her in turn. And fuck it all, he wanted to continue to care for her and protect her. Did he love her?
Maybe.
He would have liked a chance to find out, but he’d screwed that up rather badly. No kidding, asshole. He’d overreacted and behaved like a man seeing his home fall apart in front of his eyes. But it hadn’t been the whole house. He’d barely begun to build really. And yes, the foundation had been laid on ground that was too soft, on a lack of knowledge and fear and untruths, but there were ways to stabilize all that.
He could rebuild. They could rebuild.
If she wanted to. He remembered the way her eyes had looked when he said goodbye. Stricken. Lost. He’d never forgive himself for being so fucking cruel. But could she forgive him? That was the question.
Apparently she planned to very politely take herself out of his life. He hit the counter again. Here she goes and rips his heart into pieces and then thinks she’s going to just up and leave?
No, not just leave—run. He set his jaw. She planned to run, to let her bastard husband win when she had him to defend her? Like hell!
* * * * *
What a pit, Kyler thought as he wiped rain from his face before unlocking the door to the tiny cabin. But, as the realtors always said, location is everything.
He turned and smiled in satisfaction at the surrounding area. Trees, palms, and palmettos stretched out into a dense green jungle. The only way to the cabin was a tiny dirt road and the only sound he could hear was rain pattering on the tin roof. No traffic, no neighbors. No witnesses.
He glanced at the rental car where Elizabeth slumped against the door, still out cold. Just as well. He needed time to set up. The thought sent excitement through him, and he hardened.
He shoved the door open. A yank on the string turned on the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. Quite a dump. A faded couch sat across from the door. To the right, an ancient mattress lay on the floor in one corner and a wood stove with a chipped brick hearth occupied the other. On his left was the gourmet kitchen: an avocado-colored refrigerator, a dirt-encrusted stove, and a chipped enamel sink. He sneered and winced as pain lanced across his face.
Touching his nose gently, he winced. One lucky punch and she’d almost broken his nose. Damn her.
He glanced down at his bloodstained shirt. At least he had a change of clothes in his carry-on. Along with a nice set of tools he’d bought in Tampa. Turning, he smiled at the ugly room.
The cabin was isolated and big enough to swing a whip. What more could a man want?
Chapter Thirteen
Nolan pulled his truck into the parking space next to Beth’s. The relief of seeing her truck and trailer let him take his first decent breath since he’d listened to her message. He wasn’t too late.
Stepping out of his truck, he noticed two suitcases wedged between the mower and brush cutter in her trailer. So she had been serious about running. Dammit. He stalked toward her apartment then slowed. Little rabbits frightened easily; he’d need to go easy. Not roll right over her with...
Her door was ajar.
He nudged it open with his foot. “Beth?” An edgy feeling crawled up his spine and raised the hair on his scalp. Over the last year in Iraq, his instincts had become as fine-tuned as when he’d been slitting throats for the CIA. Head up, body tensed, he reached down and drew the knife from his boot sheath.
Remaining in the doorway, he scrutinized the one-room apartment. Totally silent. Boxes on the stripped bed. Curtains still drawn and lights on. Pots and pans stacked on the counter. A canvas bag on the small kitchen table, cell phone beside it.
Dark spots just inside the door on the beige carpet. He bent, touched one lightly. Wet. Red. He sniffed. Blood.
* * * * *
“Wake up, darling. Time to play.”
Beth heard the voice, her mind moving like sludge, still thick with nightmare images. She didn’t like that voice and couldn’t remember why, but the sound made something inside her wail in terror.
If the voice wanted her to wake up, then she wouldn’t.
She let her breathing stay long and slow, kept her body limp, and her eyes closed. She fought to stay awake, and lost the battle. But something was very wrong...
* * * * *
“What happened?” Frowning, Z walked into Beth’s apartment. “And give me more than ‘Beth’s been grabbed.’”
Seated at the kitchen table, Nolan glanced up, a moment’s relief running through him. Reinforcements. “Got a message telling me goodbye, said she was leaving because her husband—the bastard who gave her those scars and who she escaped from—found out she was in Tampa.” He smothered a growl. “When I got here, the door was open. Car and trailer in the lot. Purse, cell phone here on the table. Blood there.” He nodded at the stain on the carpet.
Z touched the blood. “Still wet.” He glanced around. “This looks bad.”
“Yeah. How the hell do we find her?” Nolan scrubbed his face
with his hands. “I don’t even know where she came from or where her husband lives.”
“California,” Z said. “She let that drop one day.”
“That helps. To get back there, he’ll have to drive or fly. Either way, he’ll probably use his credit card.”
“Do you know her husband’s name?” Z walked around the cabin, checked the chest of drawers.
“She said Kyler on the message. But she’s smart. She’d have changed her last name.” Nolan tapped his finger on the table and then grabbed the cell phone lying on the table. “Somebody else might know the bastard’s name though.” He found the phone’s contact list and arrowed through the entries. “Mom. That’s promising.”
A minute later, he had a hysterical woman screaming in his ear. “Ma’am, please. We’re looking for her. I need to know her husband’s name. His legal name.” He pushed the button for the speaker phone.
“Kyler Stanton. It’s Kyler Stanton. Please, he’s a horrible man. He’ll kill her.” The woman was crying so violently, she choked.
“Listen to me,” Nolan ordered, knowing just how she felt. Damned if he didn’t want to put his fist through the wall. “Your daughter is important to me, and I will find her. Can you trust me to do that?”
Her sobs slowed. “What is your name?”
“Nolan. I’ll call you when we find her.” He flipped the phone shut.
Z was already on his cell phone. “This is Zach. I need to know any credit card activity for a Kyler Stanton. Especially in the last day or so and especially in Florida. I’ll explain later, but I need it stat.” He listened, and then snapped, “I’ll wait.”
Nolan raised his eyebrows.
Z gave him a faint smile. “Give Dan a call. But my ex-military, old-boy system might be more efficient than the cops.”
Nolan paced across the apartment. Stopped and looked down at the blood stains. His gut twisted. “They’d better work fast.”
* * * * *
A brutal hand struck Beth’s face, and her eyes snapped open.
“Ha! I knew you were faking.” Kyler’s blue eyes gleamed. “You’ll pay for that, Elizabeth.”
Kyler. No nightmare. Her breathing increased so quickly that the world started to blur. Breathe, sugar. The memory of the deep voice anchored her. Nolan would never panic. She forced herself to inhale slowly and looked around.
She lay on a filthy mattress on the floor. Kyler stood over her, smirking, and the hate that blasted through her at the sight of him cleared her head. His nose was puffy, discolored, and she felt a rush of satisfaction. She’d hurt him. She tried to keep from showing her satisfaction. And failed.
“Yes, you bitch. You managed to hit me. Once.” Mouth thinned in a line, he slapped her again. She lifted her hands to fight back, only to see handcuffs on her wrists. The metal cuffs were hooked to a chain dangling from the cabin ridgepole. He’d cuffed her ankles together too. Terror burst inside her, and she screamed over and over until Kyler’s enjoyment registered. She stopped, her chest heaving, and closed her hands to hide the trembling.
“You don’t know how much I’ve missed hearing you, my dear.” He ran his hand over his groin. “Look at that. Already hard as a rock.” He paced across the room.
They were in a cabin, she realized. A tiny one-room cabin. Rain thundered against a metal roof. “Where are we?” she managed to ask, her tongue dry and thick.
“In the country where the only things listening will be the alligators and herons.”
“Someone will hear.” She didn’t sound convincing, even to herself. “There are hunters everywhere. You’ll get caught.”
He turned to show her a cheap pistol tucked into his slacks. “Don’t worry your pretty brain, my dear. I did take precautions. It’s amazing what a person can obtain with a little money. Buying a weapon in Florida is even easier than in California.”
Her heart sank.
“I never imagined you’d run so far.” He smiled, stroking himself through his tailored slacks. “I almost gave up on finding you. I tried going to prostitutes, but they didn’t excite me like you do, no matter what I did to them. I crippled one so badly I doubt she lived. She screamed, nice and high, but she wasn’t you.” His eyes held a weird light, a wrong light.
Beth’s stomach turned over. He was completely insane.
“I need you, Elizabeth. Just you.”
Her breath hitched as panic rose inside her. She’d told Nolan she was leaving. Her mother wouldn’t expect to hear from her right away, not for a day or so. The cabin was in the country with no one around. Oh, God. Don’t panic. Think. “Listen, Kyler,” she said. “You don’t want to hurt me right now. How will you get me back to California if I’m all bloody?”
His laugh escalated, going higher and higher until she cringed from the sound. “I chartered a private jet. I told them you were in a car accident, but you’re crying to go home to Mommy. I’ll dope you to the gills, stick you in a wheelchair, and roll you onboard. They’ll think I’m the best husband in the world, pampering my injured wife.”
His plan would work. Oh, God. She closed her eyes, breathed through her nose.
“So, since you’re awake, let’s get set up.”
She tensed. Time to fight. But rather than coming closer, Kyler walked across the cabin and picked up a chain. Dismay filled her. The chain, attached to her wrists, went through a massive eyebolt in the ridgepole, and Kyler had the other end. As he dragged on the chain, it lifted her up until she dangled from her arms, her feet on the mattress. The metal cuffs burned as they cut into her skin, tearing open old scars.
Kyler tied the chain in an elaborate knot to a hook buried in the wall and looked at her. “Look at that. Just where I’ve been imagining you all these months.” He faced her toward the wall.
She heard him rummaging in a bag. Her teeth clamped together at the snap of his whip.
“I was going to start slow and work up to the good stuff, but I just can’t wait.” The whip sliced across her shoulders, the sting lessened by her shirt. At first. Until the whip sliced the fabric to ribbons.
Then the real pain began.
* * * * *
Hoping the pounding rain would drown out the sound of the engine, Nolan didn’t slow as the truck tore down the dirt road, fishtailing through the curves, bouncing through the deep ruts. Z braced one hand on the dash and stayed silent. Finally the truck broke out of the forest into a small clearing that held a tiny, ramshackle cabin. A white Taurus with rental plates was parked in front. “Got you, you bastard,” Nolan muttered.
Not daring to get any closer, he left the truck at the edge of the clearing. “Take the back,” Nolan muttered to Z and headed for the front door.
Just as he reached the cabin, a high scream cut through the noise of the rain and sent rage searing like fire through his body. One kick took out the door, leaving it tilting from one hinge.
Beth hung from her cuffed hands, a bloody slice across her stomach, her eyes glassy with pain. Even as his fury increased, relief spread through him. Alive. She was alive. She saw him and blinked. Frowned. Her lips formed his name. Master.
Nolan turned his attention to the fair-haired bastard standing in the center of the room, a knife in his hand.
“This is a private party. Please leave.” The man sounded as if he’d been interrupted at a dinner function.
“Let her go,” Nolan said, circling. How good was the bastard with a knife?
“She’s my wife, and she’s going nowhere.” The man’s eyes narrowed. “You’re the one who walked her to her car at the club. The one who kissed her.”
Nolan could see white around the guy’s pupils. The fucker was seriously nuts, and he had a knife. But angry fighters make mistakes. Pissing him off would even the odds. “Yes, I kissed her”—Nolan curved his lips into a gloating smile—“and more. She’s one hot little woman.”
“You fucked my Elizabeth? Inside her?” A howl burst from the man, but rather than attacking, he backed up. Reaching behind him
, the guy hauled out a pistol.
Fuck. Knowing he was dead, Nolan charged across the room.
“No!” Beth screamed. Dropping all her weight on her cuffed hands, she lifted her feet and kicked the bastard in the back.
The pistol fired, a sharp blast of sound and a crack as the bullet hit the wood floor. Nolan slapped the weapon out of the guy’s hand and punched him hard enough to feel ribs break.
The bastard landed on his back, holding his side, and wheezing. And laughing.
Pulling back his foot for a kick, Nolan hesitated. What was so funny?
“You can’t win, you know.” Tears were in the man’s eyes as he lay on his back, not even trying to rise. “I hear sirens.”
Nolan could too. He glanced outside. Not in sight.
Silently Z eased past the broken front door and headed for Beth. The place had no back door, Nolan realized. He looked down at the asshole. “The cops will lock you up for a long time,” he prompted, wanting to see where the guy was going with this.
“And I’ll be out soon enough. I’m a lawyer. Rich. I’ll destroy you, and I’ll have her in the end. And she’ll pay for letting you touch her.” A flash of rage crossed the man’s face. He sat up, holding his ribs. “You did this for nothing.”
Nolan studied him for a moment, his mouth tightening. The bastard was telling the truth. Kyler was crazy. He was rich. And he wasn’t going to stop. The bottom line was that Beth would never be safe.
Nolan glanced at Z and saw the same conclusion in his expression. Z nodded. Coldness slithered up Nolan’s spine as his mind opened the door to his past.
So be it.
Beth shook her head and roused again at the sound of sirens. She could feel blood trickling down her arms, her back, and her stomach, and yet the pain was absent. And Kyler had stopped. With an effort, she focused her eyes and saw a man trying to unfasten the chain from the hook in the wall. Master Z?
Another man stood in the room, towering over Kyler. Nolan. He really was here. This wasn’t a dream. She watched as Sir’s expression changed, cold replacing anger. When he stalked toward her ex, Beth shook her head. No, no, no. Don’t trust Kyler. No matter how big Sir was, he could still get badly hurt.
Seduction in the Sun: Adult Romance Box Set (9 Sizzling Tales with BBW, Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Alpha Males) Page 86
