Rick surged to his feet. Maggie. “When he read that, he would have known that she’d lied to him and that the lunch date he’d made with her was probably a trap.” The sensation of being watched as they’d entered the hotel… Rick looked down at his watch. They’d been there for over an hour.
“We have to go. Now.” He had his phone in his hand without remembering how it got there. He hit speed dial for Maggie’s number, then held the phone to his ear. It rang several times. Rick shoved the device back in his pocket. “She’s not answering. It went to voice mail.”
Corbett reached out and grabbed his arm. “I’ll get a BOLO issued and send out an alert to the airports in Austin and DFW.”
Rick shook his head. “No, you’re not getting it. He isn’t heading to the airport. He’s heading to Lusty. I hurt him, and now he wants to hurt me. That’s been his focus all along. Now, thanks to Mr. Talbot, he knows how he can hurt me far more than anything else he’s done so far. He could do that without laying a finger on me. Hell, he could kill me.” He met his brothers’ gazes. “He could kill us—all in one malicious instant.” Rick reached into his pocket and yanked out his keys.
“Christ, you think Conrad is going after Maggie.” Jake jumped to his feet and pulled out his cell phone. “I’m calling Adam.”
“We’ll drive.” Drew James plucked Rick’s keys from his fingers. Rick barely noticed they all moved, en mass, toward the hotel entrance.
Corbett pushed past everyone. “I’ve got lights and a siren. Follow me and stay close.”
Rick ran, not caring that others were taking over, pushing him toward a car that wasn’t his. That didn’t matter. Only one thing mattered.
Maggie.
Jake was calling Adam. The town was full of family and friends, people who would rally, people who would be on guard. People who would protect the woman they loved.
Maggie.
They had to get to her. They had to keep her safe.
Rick looked at his brothers, somehow unsurprised to find they were all three shoved into the backseat of Devon Wakefield’s Jeep.
They had to keep their woman safe. They’d all of them die without her.
* * * *
Maggie really wished she’d insisted on going with the men. This sitting at home, watching the clock and wondering what was happening, sucked big time. A grin split her face when she imagined her mother’s reaction to hearing such a sentiment come out of her daughter’s mouth.
Oh, Maggie, she’d have died at the idea of you having three men for lovers long before she would have ever heard you use the word “sucked.”
Maggie shook her head. How old did a woman have to be before thoughts of her mother stopped popping up in her subconscious, pushing their way to her conscious thoughts? Maggie sighed. Hammer in hand, she stood back and looked at the two framed pictures she’d just hung on either side of the fireplace. They appeared to be level to her. She grinned when she imagined the men’s reactions to her latest decorating touch.
Kevin would tell her they looked pretty, Trevor would tell her they added to the ambiance of the room, and Richard would confirm she’d hung them well.
Maggie set the hammer on the mantel and reached for the step stool, intent on putting it back in the cupboard. No sense letting any of them have a reason to scold her for climbing up on the thing.
They seemed to get nervous whenever she tried to do any climbing or heavy work for herself.
She looked at her watch and sighed. That little job had taken all of a few minutes. They likely would just be cornering Conrad about now. She still had probably the better part of a half hour until she heard from her men. She could always go back to her computer and her other work. Maggie sighed. She really didn’t want to continue to read up on hospitality-industry studies and bulletins, trends, and predictions.
Maybe that had been her problem all along. Prudence had been hammered into her to such an extent it dictated that she conduct all sorts of research into any course of action she’d ever taken with her business. She’d been the most careful of entrepreneurs in the entire Chamber of Commerce back in Wildwood. One step at a time, thorough research, careful study…
How on earth had she ever gotten anything done?
“Screw it.” Maggie giggled as the words actually passed her lips. She had the building, and the bedrooms were furnished. She had a front parlor filled with books and bookshelves, games, chessboard and card tables.
She had one of those fancy one-cup coffee makers and enough of a variety of coffees and even hot teas to please any palate.
She even had an electric fireplace insert installed in the massive stone fireplace.
The paperwork had been filled out, all the i’s dotted and the t’s crossed. What more did she need, really?
Maggie shook her head. There had to come a time when preparation ended and living began.
Just like her relationship with the brothers Benedict. There had to come a point when she stopped thinking about telling them they all needed to get to the next level and simply stepped off the edge of the cliff and took a fucking chance. She needed to tell them how it was going to be.
Maggie went perfectly still. Something was happening deep inside, some final slide out from under the thumb of her mother. She was no longer a dutiful daughter secretly longing for rebellion—or secretly rebelling against authority.
She was a fully grown woman, and anything, anything she wanted to do was okay. She didn’t have to have anyone’s approval but her own. She needed no one’s permission but her own.
As soon as those men got back from Waco, she was going to tell them that the fun and games were over. She was going to tell them she loved them, and God help them if they didn’t love her right back. And she was going to demand that they have a real, serious relationship with her.
No. I’m going to demand that they marry me.
Her hand instinctively went to her stomach as a squadron of butterflies began aerial maneuvers.
What was the worst thing that could happen?
They could say no and walk away.
Maggie shook her head. She was done with being complacent, and she sure as hell was done with being negative. Somehow, a miracle had happened. Three outrageously sexy and very appealing men had wanted her, they’d taken her, and they had made her fall in love with them.
Now was not the time for lily-livered thinking.
The beautiful spring day called to her, the sun warm, the flowers dancing slowly in the slight breeze that caressed the land.
Now that she’d decided on a bold course of action, she wanted to move on it. She felt restless and edgy. She reached for her phone, the thought loud and impatient that she could call her lovers, tell them what she had to say on the phone. She picked up her cordless phone, but the lights didn’t come on.
“Well hell, I forgot to charge it last night.” Just as well. What she had to say to those three titans was best said in person.
She’d go for a walk, breathe deeply, and see if she’d lost her patience somewhere out in the field in back of her house. And while she was at it, she might pick just a few wildflowers and set them in a vase on her table.
Then she’d come back in and plan a really nice dinner. She’d keep herself busy, and before she knew it, they’d be here.
Maggie grinned, liking that plan a lot. Her feet took her through the house to the kitchen and then straight out the back door.
“You led me on and set me up. That was bad, Margaret. Let me show you what happens to bad girls.”
Maggie gasped. The voice, recently familiar, startled her. She jerked her head toward it, and him, a natural reaction.
She saw his hand coming toward her face as if in slow motion and had one clear thought before the lights went out.
Oh no, not again.
Chapter 19
Conrad paced, tapping the hammer he’d found on the mantel into his left hand. The tool made a convenient if impromptu weapon. It hadn’t occurred to him to try a
nd buy a gun before coming here. He preferred weapons that left little trace. He hadn’t thought this part out, he could admit that, but it wasn’t his fault.
He’d been forced to abandon his well-thought-out plan when he’d realized he’d been played for a fool.
He’d argued with himself all night as to what he should do about his vengeance against Richard Benedict. Maybe what he’d done so far would prove to have been enough. But how could he be sure?
Should he just give up and go home? Should he go to that small town with the ridiculous name and…do what?
He’d decided to leave. Nothing had gone right for him since he’d left England. He’d done as much as he could, he should just go back to New York and let events unfold.
Then he’d watched Richard Benedict enter the Waco Hilton Hotel, looking cool, unfazed, and in control. Fury had gripped Conrad, propelling him. By God, that bastard would pay for what he’d done. A sudden thought struck, and he’d gotten out and checked around the bumpers and fenders of his car. Yes, Benedict had likely been there because Margaret Morrison had warned him. But nothing had really gone his way from the moment he’d landed in this damned state. There had to be more to this than just bad luck.
He wasn’t certain what he’d found on the car and tossed onto the street, but it certainly hadn’t looked like any factory part.
Benedict had looked cool, calm, and unruffled. And as he’d watched the man, he’d known what he was going to do.
He’s ruined everything. Now I’m going to ruin everything for him.
A soft groan pulled him around. His gaze centered on the woman—Margaret Morrison—and he watched as her eyes fluttered open and she slowly reached to the back of her head.
She looked delicate, like a lady. What did she even see in a bastard like Richard Benedict?
“Did you have to hit me so damn hard?”
“It’s not my fault. You startled me. I only meant to slap you, but you fell back and hit your head on the door frame.”
She groaned again as she straightened herself up on the love seat. Her gaze wasn’t on his face but on his hands.
He looked down and saw he gripped the hammer as if he meant to use it. Good. Maybe she’ll understand that I’ll hurt her if she gives me any trouble.
Conrad shouldn’t be worried about the woman. There wasn’t much to her, and she was, after all, just a woman. He was a man. He was stronger and smarter and better than her.
I’m better than everyone I’ve met in this godforsaken country.
“Listen, asshole, it’s all of it your fault. Don’t you get it? You thought to use Julia Benedict as if she were nothing. Of course her brothers came after you.”
“She should have been honored that I wanted her, humbled to be in my bed. Do you know who I am? I’m a Conrad. I can trace my lineage back centuries—back to a time before this country was even discovered. My great-grandfather was the Baron of Bickford—a Peer of the Realm.”
“I imagine the baron is turning over in his grave to see the failure you’ve become.”
Conrad took one step forward, the hammer in his hand. “I am not a failure. You just watch. In a matter of days, if not hours, that bastard’s world is going to begin to unravel.” Conrad nodded his head. He’d wanted to tell someone how clever he’d been. He could tell Margaret Morrison.
“Oh, give me a break. Your schoolboy pranks only made us all laugh. No one who knows Richard Benedict would ever believe him capable of forcing a woman to get an abortion—and no one who respects him as a titan of commerce would ever think he was anything but fair and honest.”
Her words infuriated him. She thought she knew everything, but she was nothing more than a stupid, backwards woman. “That’s not how it works in the world! His family will turn against him, you’ll see. His business associates will treat him like a pariah. No one will take his calls. No one will want him. You won’t want him. He’ll be an outcast, penniless.” He sneered at her. “Your chance for his millions is lost. But don’t worry. Maybe his two half-wit brothers will give you a tumble, maybe they’ll toss you a bone.” There, let her hear the truth. She was only a woman. She was nothing more than a convenience, something for a man to rut in.
Conrad’s temper began to flare when she laughed at him.
“Trevor and Kevin are as brilliant as their brother. I don’t need their millions, I have my own. Money has nothing to do with the reason I’m in love with the three of them. You’ve not been describing Richard Benedict. He’s an honest and giving man. You’ve been describing a bottom-feeding snake. You’ve been describing yourself. Richard isn’t the villain here, you are. Richard isn’t going down, you are.”
Conrad narrowed his eyes. He’d had enough of people putting him down. Who did this strumpet think she was? How dare she laugh at him? He’d show her.
“Perhaps you’re right, perhaps he won’t go down—but he can suffer. I can make him suffer. All I have to do is hurt you.”
“You pathetic little ineffectual asshole. You can’t do anything right. You’re such a loser you won’t even be able to hurt me. And then you’ll be in jail, and we’ll all come and laugh at you.”
Conrad’s temper exploded. A red mist colored his vision, and the voices of his father and his uncles and his grandmother sounded loud in his head.
They were laughing. They had always been laughing, and he never before realized it. But he knew it now. They were laughing at him. The humiliation became anger. He would show them. First this bitch and then the rest of them.
He raised the hammer high above his head and screamed. “You bastards! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you all!”
* * * *
Maggie only hoped that she didn’t throw up. Her head pounded, her stomach churned, and terror painted a copper taste inside her mouth.
Yet she goaded him, pushing him, part of her wondering if she was insane while the other part of her couldn’t seem to stop.
She’d come back to consciousness to a stinging on her face and a throbbing in her skull, and the sight of Clarence Conrad pacing back and forth in front of the bookcases, muttering to himself, using her trusty hammer like a gavel against the palm of his left hand.
She’d only intended to give him hell, but when he’d disavowed responsibility for his own actions, something inside her snapped, and she’d lost it.
He was too far away for her to fight back. But maybe if she could goad him into coming at her, she could kick him hard enough to make him lose the hammer, maybe even fall on his ass.
Then she’d run like hell.
It wasn’t much of a plan, she’d admit it, but there was no handy snow globe waiting for her to use as a weapon on his head, like she’d done against the bastard who’d come at her in New Jersey. She thought about Deke Walters, the man who’d made Ginny’s life a living hell.
What is it about me that makes self-centered assholes want to slap me around?
Maggie felt her heart thud when the look in Conrad’s eyes changed from petulant to hate-filled. She’d already figured out the man was more than a little bit loony tunes. Now she had to wonder if he could be dangerous, too.
“Perhaps you’re right, perhaps he won’t go down—but he can suffer. I can make him suffer. All I have to do is hurt you.”
Oh, shit. Maybe she should just shut up and cower in the corner of the love seat like a frightened little girl. Surely to God someone would come by or try to phone. By now the men would know Conrad had stood them up. Maybe they’d figure out she was in trouble and she needed them. They were connected to her, heart and mind and body and soul.
Maybe they’d hear her silent screams for help in their minds.
Maggie meant to keep quiet. Instead, her mouth opened and she said, “You pathetic little ineffectual asshole. You can’t do anything right. You’re such a loser. You won’t even be able to hurt me. And then you’ll be in jail, and we’ll all come and laugh at you.”
Conrad’s expression wavered, and for one instant she thought
that he would simply slip into some fugue state.
And then, to her horror, he raised the hammer high above his head and screamed. “You bastards! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you all!”
Maggie had no time to think and only one chance to get it right.
Conrad, his face contorted in hate and fury, rushed toward her, hammer raised, a weapon ready to maim or kill.
It felt as if she tensed to strike back forever, but she knew only seconds, mere heartbeats of time, had passed.
She brought her knees up, legs together, and kicked out with all her might.
She caught Conrad low in the abdomen, a solid two-footed assault to his stomach that immediately winded him. The jar of contact vibrated up her legs, but Maggie ignored the pain, ignored her nausea, as she straightened her legs, pushing him off-balance, thrusting him back.
She let her momentum bring her from sitting to standing, and then yes, she ran like hell.
“Bitch!”
Conrad’s scream echoed, but she didn’t look back. Not when she heard a loud crack, not even when she heard another scream.
She didn’t look back when it felt as if the house shook from a hard, heavy thud.
She ran, her feet taking her to the front door, then out onto the front porch, finally to slam into a solid male body.
“Easy, Maggie, I have you. Matt!”
Maggie recognized the voice of Adam Kendall. She made herself stop struggling and inhaled deeply. Help had come. She didn’t have to run. Thank God.
“Here. Come here, Ms. Morrison. Why don’t you hang on to me for a bit?”
Adam had passed Maggie to his deputy—one of her men’s cousins—and then stepped into the house, his gun drawn.
Maggie inhaled deeply and then swallowed quickly when her stomach did one sickening roll.
The screech of brakes made her look up, but she didn’t recognize the big black Jeep that had just skidded to a stop. And then the back doors sprang open and her men all but erupted out of the vehicle.
“Maggie!”
Nothing had sounded more wonderful to her than her name on three pairs of lips.
Love Under Three Titans Page 21
