Wilde Heart (Wilde Women Book 2)

by Halliday, Suzanne

  “I need a minute here,” Liam croaked hoarsely as his mouth went dry from the anxiety running rampant inside him.

  This was so much worse than anything he imagined. Furious with himself for not patching things up with Rhiann before he left, waves of guilt crashed into him. If he’d just manned the fuck up and did whatever he needed to in order to make things right between them, she would have been untouchable and under his protective wing. By simply leaving and thinking he was letting her cool off, he’d put her in danger.

  Had he known Kim was this off her rocker? No. But he should have. All the batshit crazy signs were there.

  Mentally adjusting the heavy mantle of guilt due to his neglect, he processed what he knew.

  “Continue—only this time, tell me where she is.”

  “Following the suspension, she took to her apartment and cut off all contact with everyone. The only visitor she allowed was her assistant, but both those meetings were short. If you want my opinion, the guy’s a spineless shit but maybe that’s because Walsh is playing the part of the Evil Queen and has thoroughly scared the bejeebers out of everyone at Passion. Nobody in their right mind wants to cross her—not after how effectively she dealt with Miss Wilde.”

  Scowling darkly, he muttered, “Yeah, well, the Evil Queen isn’t going to know what hit her after I’m through trashing her sick little kingdom.”

  Roman’s hand shot out, and he snickered. “Fist bump, man.”

  After smacking their clenched fists together, Liam felt a tiny bit better.

  “So, where was I? Uh, holed up in her apartment, the cowardly assistant. Right. Okay. This is where it gets interesting. About a week ago, her sister and new husband show up. Probably to find out what in the hell was going on. They stayed in the city a few days and then the brother-in-law . . . guy by the name of Jackson Merrill, charters a flight to take Miss Wilde to North Carolina.”

  “What the fuck is in North Carolina?”

  Roman smiled. “Well, besides one of the most beautiful beaches imaginable, apparently the newlyweds purchased a house there. Nags Head, to be precise. They packed Miss Wilde up and sent her off, which from our point of view was the very best thing that could have happened. Puts up a barrier between your lady and the crazy bitch trying to destroy you both. It also gave me the perfect opportunity to set up around-the-clock surveillance and protection. She doesn’t know it, but Miss Wilde is effectively on lockdown at the moment.”

  “She’s at the beach? In the dead of winter?”

  “Actually, Boss—that worked in our favor. The tourist trade is twelve months a year down there, but many of the rental homes are empty during the off-season. I have a husband and wife team directly across the street. She’s being watched and doesn’t have any clue.”

  While he digested all that information, his secretary knocked and entered at the same time. Looking up in surprise, he found Gardner’s face filled with a sort of savage fury that he’d never seen before.

  “Liam,” she exclaimed in a gruffly blunt manner, earning her his complete attention. She never addressed him by his first name. “You have to hear this,” the no-nonsense older woman informed him.

  He then noticed that his secretary had her arm protectively around a young woman. She looked to be in her very early twenties and was wearing an expression that bordered on fright.

  Bringing the girl into the office on feet that clearly wanted to run in the other direction, he saw Roman studying her, too, as Marjorie brought them both to a halt right in front of him.

  “This is my granddaughter. Shayne Benson.”

  Granddaughter? Well, there was a surprise.

  “It’s okay, dear,” she murmured to the frightened looking girl. “He always scowls like that. I’m afraid the look is now permanent on his face,” she assured her and then gave him a mocking glare.

  “Just tell Mr. Ashforth what you know, sweetie. He won’t bite.”

  “Shayne Benson,” Roman mumbled. “You’re an intern at Passion, right? You were there when Miss Wilde had her accident. I saw your name on the EMT’s report.”

  So. Marjorie Gardner’s granddaughter was an intern at the magazine? Interesting.

  Marjorie gave her shoulders a little squeeze for reassurance and told her, “Go ahead. I’m right here.”

  Liam felt like a giant douche as the pretty young woman clutched nervously at her skirt and bit down on her lip while she eyed him with suspicion. Making an effort to appear less threatening, he softened his expression and offered a half smile.

  “Um, okay,” she stammered.

  Wait a minute, Liam thought. I’ve seen her before. She was at Passion that day he went to talk to Rhiann about her Thanksgiving plans. He remembered thinking at the time that the timid girl had a huge case of fangirl going on where Rhiann was concerned.

  “I, uh . . . saw what happened, Mr. Ashforth, and Rhiann didn’t do anything wrong. I swear. It was all that other lady. The one with the blond hair.”

  Gardner nodded at him and gave Liam one of those looks that suggested a beat down was in the planning. “Just tell him about the box, Shayne. Explain what you saw.”

  “Oh, well you see. The lady was giving Rhiann a hard time—but she always did whenever she came around,” she said looking to her grandmother for support.

  Roman gently asked, “You saw her, the blond lady, give Miss Wilde a hard time before?”

  She huffed out a snort and nodded at Roman. “All the time. In person. On the phone. Memos. You name it. Everyone was talking about what a bitc . . . uh, I mean how rude the other lady was. She even put one of her people in our department who watched every little thing and reported back.”

  Marjorie grunted. “Never did like that woman. Go on, sweetie. The box, remember?”

  “Um, anyway . . . they were sort of going at each other, but Rhiann, she never lost her cool. Not even after she saw a newspaper with your picture, Mr. Ashforth. I know it was you because after the ambulance took her away and I was putting everything back in order, I took it and stashed it in my bag.”

  “You still have it?” Marjorie asked.

  “Uh-huh.” Shayne nodded.

  “Good girl. You did the right thing. I’m proud of you.”

  “So, when they were arguing, the lady grabbed Rhiann’s arm and when she tried to jerk away, her elbow pushed the blonde away. I saw her; Mrs. Walsh, is that right?” she asked her grandmother who nodded, yes. “I saw her kick a box full of condiments for the craft table that was on the floor next to where they stood, so it was directly behind Rhiann. When she stepped back to get away, her feet got tangled up because of the box and she went crashing to the floor.”

  How many years would I do for punching Kim Walsh in the fucking throat, Liam wondered.

  “Are you saying that Mrs. Walsh deliberately placed an obstruction behind Miss Wilde that caused her to fall? Are you absolutely sure?” Roman asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Shayne answered. “I saw the whole thing.”

  “Have you told anyone else what you witnessed?”

  “No, sir,” she said with a shake of her head. “I mean, just Gramma and not till just now when she asked. I was worried about Rhiann and wasn’t sure if anyone would believe me. They’re all so afraid of that lady. But I like Rhiann. She’s ah-mazing. I’d do anything for her.”

  Roman looked at Liam and made a holy shit face.

  Standing as he smoothed his tie, Liam turned a friendly smile on the young girl and held out his hand for her to shake.

  “Thank you, Shayne. I appreciate you coming forward like this. And don’t worry about Miss Wilde. I’m going to make sure everything’s all right, okay?”

  Turning to Marjorie he said, “Let’s just keep this between us for now.”

  “Understood.”

  Going to stand by the window so he could gather his thoughts while Roman walked the two women out, he pieced together everything he’d learned in the last ninety minutes.

  When Roman came back, he had th
e look of a man considering a nuclear option for dealing with the mess in front of them.

  “Let’s review, shall we?” Liam snarled. “Harassment. Possible breaking and entering. Assault. Falsifying the facts of an internal investigation. Trampling Rhiann’s rights with that fucking drug test. And I never even told you that I think she stalked me when I took Rhiann home to Philadelphia for Thanksgiving so add that to the list.”

  “Jesus,” Roman muttered. “That’s why you had me check up on her that day, isn’t it?”

  Liam shot him a half nod, half glare. “And let’s not forget that she flat-out threatened me, snooped into my personal life, and actively circumvented your attempts to keep an eye on the situation,” he snapped in a cold, precise voice.

  “She’s dangerous,” Roman offered grimly.

  “Yeah, no shit.”

  “So, where do we go from here, Boss?”

  His need to strike out had tensed every muscle in his body. Where do they go from here? Fuck if he knew. She had private information about Adam Ward—which was huge. She’d tried to get rid of Rhiann and in doing so had landed his woman in the hospital. Also huge. Nothing like a psychotic bitch to complicate things.

  “Okay. Two things,” he told Roman. “First, make sure Rhiann’s apartment is secured, and I don’t care how you do that. I’ll buy the fucking building if I have to. And second, I want you in North Carolina, Roman. You go down there and take control of the situation. She’s not safe on her own no matter how many eyes you think are watching. If Kim managed to throw you off her scent through a simple bait and switch with her travel plans, for all we know she could be watching Rhiann, too.”

  “Good point. I’ll have Gary take care of the apartment. Walsh will notice if I’m gone so let’s mess with her psycho-ego a bit, hmm? I’m thinking a rather public argument. You and me. I’ll take Miss Wilde’s side. You play your normal arrogant prick. Kim will think she won and hopefully show her hand, as a result. I suggest you do nothing. Business as usual, okay?”

  Business as usual? Sure. He could play that game. “You know what?” he sneered. “I do believe that my finance director and I are overdue for a lunch date. Just business but I’m pretty sure she’ll jump at the chance to get me alone.”

  Roman snickered. “Hey, wanna fuck with her big time?”

  “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  “Great,” he laughed, “because I do believe you returned from London with a new girlfriend in tow.”

  “A what, now?” he asked.

  “Leave it to me, Boss. I know someone who fits the bill. Her name’s Jill. I worked with her a long time ago, but we still keep in touch. She owes me a favor and is experienced in working deep undercover—think FBI only with a harder edge.”

  “Oh, my god,” Liam chuckled. “That’ll frost her tits, huh?”

  “Serves the bitch right. She won’t know which way is up. While she was focusing on Miss Wilde, you were traipsing around London with someone else.”

  “I’ll make the call,” Liam said. “Tomorrow too soon for a lunch date? Is this Jill local? Maybe she can appear as we’re finishing like she’s meeting me in town for a date.”

  It had been a shit-tacular morning, but that didn’t stop them from booming with laughter as they plotted out Kim Walsh’s downfall.

  May it be as spectacular as the one he visited on Adam Ward.

  THE BUZZER LETTING RHIANN KNOW her wash was finished sounded from the laundry as she wandered aimlessly around the bottom floor game room—puttering with no true direction in mind.

  Shuffling a stack of magazines she’d picked up at the grocery store into a neat pile, Rhi looked around and smiled. Brynn and Jax had chosen well with this property. Chuckling over the way her sister had steered her new husband into buying the impressive oceanfront home for their honeymoon—she had to hand it to Jax. He had a good eye.

  The sisters had planned unsuccessfully for years to vacation together along the magnificent Outer Banks of North Carolina. Something about the long stretches of beach and the majestic sand dunes covered with sea grass appealed to each of them.

  And the homes? My goodness. They were astonishing. The newer ones were constructed on a reverse floor plan—a practical nod to the storms and hurricanes that blew along this portion of the Atlantic states. Rhiann loved the practicality of it and the unique style the arrangement offered each home.

  With this property, Brynnie had hit the jackpot. The ground floor where she was now—the part that had the potential to flood during a hurricane—housed the game room and small home theater, along with a laundry area that was bigger than Rhi’s living room. There was also a convenient mini-kitchen and wet bar, full bath, and small guest room.

  As if that wasn’t enough—and she was only describing the bottom floor—wide French doors opened onto a covered patio with an outdoor kitchen that made Rhi drool. The pool and Jacuzzi? Sheesh. Anything else? Oh, right. Yes, there was something else—a small elevator that made accessing all the floors easy—something she appreciated due to her injured arm when she had luggage and grocery bags to lug around.

  The second or middle level was where the massive bedrooms were, each with its own en suite and access to a wraparound porch.

  It was the top floor, however, that rocked her boat. Huge arched windows offered impressive ocean views that were simply to die for. The enormous gourmet kitchen must make Brynn happy as a pig in shit while a dining area and great room took up most of the space. Plus, there was a cozy sunroom that was more like a small den tucked behind the kitchen.

  The master bedroom, reached by a long hallway that offered the suite total privacy, had a bathroom that should be declared illegal. Rhi loved the house on sight. That her new brother-in-law had gone big with this purchase, impressed the shit out of her. Brynn was one lucky gal.

  The unexpected chime of the doorbell cut through her reverie causing Rhi to sigh with annoyance. Probably the landscaper or maybe the pool dude who came once a week to take care of the outdoor hot tub and the large in-ground pool that was unused due to the colder winter weather.

  Frankly, she wasn’t in the mood to make nice with anyone right now. Her daily mantra was stuck in ‘fuck off’ territory. Stomping up the steps to the middle level, she approached the front door and frowned when she spied what looked like a large, immovable object on two hefty legs planted at her door.

  Anxiety thumped low in the pit of her stomach. This was definitely not the hipster pool guy or the smiling older man who took care of the grounds.

  Rhiann considered not answering, but the annoying fact that the front door and enormous windows on either side were all glass shot that impulse to hell. If she could see him, that meant he had a clear view of her as well. Shit. Trapped, she straightened her shoulders and slapped a no-nonsense expression on her face.

  Yanking open the door with unnecessary force, she slapped a hand onto her hip and eyed the large man with obvious, tight-lipped suspicion.

  “Yes?” she snapped with a none-too-friendly bite.

  “Miss Wilde?” the stranger answered in a calm, matter-of-fact way leaving Rhiann with no doubt whatsoever that he knew exactly who she was.

  Scowling, she refused to budge, keeping one hand firmly on the doorknob, aware that her mouth had gone suddenly dry. Through the increased pounding of her heart—Rhiann projected an air of rigid silence preferring no answer was the way to go. Keep the ball in his court so he had to do all the talking.

  She saw the corners of his mouth slightly quiver as if in amusement. Then, in a voice she suspected was meant to stir up a sense of friendly persuasion, he added, “My name is Roman Bishop. I’m the security chief for BPG.”

  BPG? Holy fuck. Now what? Hadn’t those people done enough to her?

  “Are you here to harass me, Mr. Bishop?” she barked. “’Cause I’ll tell you what! I’ve had enough of BPG’s shit to last me a lifetime.”

  BPG could go collectively fuck itself as far as she was concerned.

&nbs
p; Eyeing the unwelcome intruder, she made a quick note of his imposing appearance. Big didn’t quite do justice where this Roman Bishop was concerned. He was over six feet in height—much like Liam—only wider. And beefier. Physically, he reminded her of the martial arts fighters she saw on TV. Huge, muscular, and lean.

  He had on dark jeans and heavy boots with a smoky grey colored sweater under a well-worn leather jacket. A rugged face with a square jaw that looked like it could chisel granite showed several days growth of a beard. The overall effect was someone with a presence who naturally commanded the space around him.

  “We’ve met before,” he drawled, “although not formally. I am Mr. Ashforth’s security chief. That was me driving the car that day he rescued you from a rain storm.”

  Upon hearing the name Mr. Ashforth, Rhiann snapped to attention and gave the unwelcome visitor a dark, dirty look.

  “Go away!” she barked, her eyes blazing with instant anger.

  Swiftly moving to slam the door in his face, she tried to end the encounter on her terms, only for the menacing stranger to stop her dead by wedging his booted foot into the door opening.

  Growling angrily, she snarled at him, “Liam Ashforth is dead to me. And since he’s not six feet under, I hope he chokes to death on all his money. I don’t know why you’re here, Roman Bishop, and frankly, I don’t give a shit. So feel free to toddle on back to your handler and tell him I said Fuck Off.”

  Pretty much the last thing Rhi expected after her resentful outburst was for the stranger at her door to laugh.

  “You are a feisty piece of work, Miss Wilde. Just what a certain scowling tycoon deserves, I might add.”

  His reply also wasn’t anything she expected. Slightly rattled, Rhiann’s mind crowded with a rush of disjointed comments and questions.

  “Why are you here? What does he want? I don’t appreciate being stalked, Mr. Bishop. Just leave me alone. I can’t take any more. Is this BPG circling in for the kill? Fuck. I give up. Why? Why can’t he leave me alone?”