The headache was still bothering her. From experience, the supplement would either take in a half an hour or she caught it too late and nothing would help. The best she could do for now would be to lie down and work on relaxing her body while it went to work on the pain.
She had time before Rick would be home. Changing into a comfy t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts, she thought about waiting for Rick on the couch. He brought a couple of new books for her to read and she was in the middle of a sweet romance. Now that she believed in love again, she rediscovered her affection for stories that came with a happy ending.
Just as she was about to head out to the living room, Grace yawned. Whoa, was she tired all of a sudden. Forget her book. She could always read later. For now, that big king-sized bed was calling her name.
It wouldn’t hurt if she closed her eyes for a few. Rick would be off duty soon, and he was bringing dinner in from the coffeehouse. He’d wake her up when he got back. She’d be much better company, too, if she took a short nap and got rid of her headache.
Pulling Rick’s quilt away from the edge of the bed, Grace climbed in. The room was already quite warm. She didn’t bother tugging the quilt up over her. The second her head hit the pillow, she was out.
“Rise and shine, sweetheart.”
The soft voice sounded like it was coming from far away. Her eyes still closed, she fought coming to as a gentle caress against her cheek had her flinching. She felt like she was floating, disconnected from a body that didn’t seem to respond the way it should. But that touch? It was… wrong somehow. She tried to move away from it.
She couldn’t.
Her limbs were heavy. That worried her almost as much as the fact that she couldn’t quite place the owner of that voice—or remember when she fell asleep in the first place. Wasn’t she supposed to be waiting up for Rick?
She remembered the headache, then taking one of her pills to try to cut it off before it became too much of a nuisance. But something was different about the pill. The wrong color? Maybe.
And maybe that was why she was feeling so off. Grace was used to her formula, her brand, and it could be that the replacement Rick brought back for her was giving her a strange reaction. True, she didn’t have a headache, but her head feeling like it was stuffed full of cotton wasn’t any better.
She felt her body move, her weight shifting as she leaned against something long and hard. Her legs were wrapped in a heavy, thick fabric that rustled as she flopped like a ragdoll. She felt drunk; she’d never been drunk before, since she never drank alcohol, but maybe this is what it felt like. Was she drunk?
Grace didn’t think so. Sick, though? The way her stomach went tight… yeah. Sick was a definite possibility.
She needed to get to the bathroom. Throwing up in Rick’s bed would only make her feel worse. Kicking out her weak legs, trying to maneuver herself toward the edge of the bed, she froze when she heard the rustle again, realized that the silky material was too heavy and too slick to be his comfortable quilt.
What the—
She struggled to lift her lids. Her head was fuzzy, she was queasy and confused, but she was starting to remember things. The headache, her supplement… and changing into sleep shorts so that she could relax.
That wasn’t what she was wearing now.
Glancing down, Grace saw a whole lot of white. White ruffles on a satiny white skirt. White lacy sleeves. A white bodice.
“What have I got on?” She slurred her words. Her tongue seemed like it was too big to fit in her mouth. “It’s… it’s not mine.”
She didn’t expect an answer. So focused on the fancy white dress she was wearing, she forgot all about the voice she heard speaking to her when she was first waking up. She thought she was alone.
She wasn’t.
“Of course it’s yours. You’ve kept me waiting long enough to see you in it. I refused to wait any longer. I didn’t think you’d mind too much if I changed you myself.”
His voice was cultured. Smooth. And it held just enough barely contained fury in each coldly stated word for her to recognize immediately who was in bed with her.
And there he was. With a satisfied grin curving his lips, his blonde hair slicked back like always, an expensively tailored suit cut to his long, lean body. He was stretched out alongside her, his hand a possessive brand on her hip.
“Tommy.”
Grace breathed out his name. In the next instant, her stomach clenched and she jerked away from him. She heaved, a dry heave that had her whole body tightening. When he reached out, rubbing her soothingly on her back, she had to fight back another heave.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. But let’s try not to be sick on your gown. We don’t have time to get it cleaned.”
She’d puke all over Rick’s bed if it meant ruining the dress that—oh my god, ohmygod—Tommy had changed her into. When she let out another heave, nothing could have stopped her. A combination of fear and revulsion made her want to hurl. But her sense of preservation kicked in at the last minute. Tommy didn’t want her to get sick on the goddamn gown. How mad would he be if she did?
Couldn’t risk it. There were already so many different reasons why he’d be pissed off at her. He was there. He’d finally found her. As satisfying as it would be, Grace knew she couldn’t risk it.
“What… what are you talking about?” What are you doing here? It was on the tip of her tongue to ask—but she didn’t. She couldn’t. Even as out of it as she was, she knew better than to ask him that. Instead, she whispered, “What’s going on? I… I don’t feel so good.”
“I know. The dizziness will pass in a few minutes. My team wasn’t sure how big of a dose to give you since you’re such a dainty thing. It worked quickly, and I’ve been assured you’ll feel as good as new in no time. You’ll be fine for later.”
She had no idea what he was talking about. The fuzzy feeling made it nearly impossible to truly understand that he was there, with her, in Rick’s bed. Grace wanted to pinch herself because it had to be a nightmare.
Please let it be a nightmare.
It wasn’t. Tommy was there. Whatever he’d done—however he’d done it—Grace was utterly incapable of using any of the self-defense Rick taught her. As Tommy reached out again, rubbing his hand up and down her arm, ignoring the way she shuddered and moaned, Grace flashed back to her first lesson.
Prevention. That’s what Rick taught her. The best self-defense was in making sure you prevented it. Don’t make yourself a target. Always be aware of your surroundings. Avoid dangerous place, dangerous people—
She was home.
She was supposed to be safe at home.
She should’ve known better.
Hot tears leaked from the corner of her eyes. Grace was grateful that she had her back to Tommy. He’d only pretend he couldn’t understand how he made her cry, and then he’d lose his temper and snap at her to stop.
Tommy Mathers would never change. She was the one who fooled herself into thinking that he might have, all because he missed the date he put on that damn wedding invitation.
Grace’s blood ran cold. She took in a sharp breath and almost forgot to exhale. She almost forgot to breathe as it hit her.
The wedding.
Her eyes flew down to her feet. She took in the elaborate white dress—no, gown, Tommy called it a fucking gown—and realized that he’d even gone so far as to slip matching heels onto her as she slept.
No, she realized. Not slept. Passed out.
The pill. It had to be her pill. It was unnatural how tired it had made her, especially so quickly. He talked about doses. Did he… did he drug her?
He must’ve.
At least Tommy was right. The dizziness was beginning to fade. With that, came clarity. She prayed to God she was wrong, even as it all began to make terrible, terrible sense.
Her fear made her desperate. Desperation made her ask, even when she was sure she already knew what he’d say—and didn’t really want to hear it.
She asked anyway.
“Later,” she said, her soft voice shaky and thick. “What… what’s later?”
Tommy took her by her shoulder, nudging her from her side until she was lying helplessly on her back. Propping himself up on his elbow, he hovered over her, the self-satisfied expression on his deceptively handsome face answering her a split second before he did.
“Our wedding, Grace. Tonight, I’ll finally have my bride.”
21
A giant of a man was hiding in the shadows outside of Rick’s house.
Still a little dizzy and growing even more terrified by the second, Grace thought for a heartbeat that it was Rick. Clasped tightly in Tommy’s arms, being dragged out the front door, it was her first instinct to scream at him to run away. She only just managed to tamp down that urge. Maybe… maybe Tommy wouldn’t see him. She was totally screwed. Rick didn’t have to be.
Her hopes were smashed into a million pieces when the silhouette’s head jerked up as soon as Tommy got her outside. It wasn’t difficult, either. He kept his one arm around her; he was strong enough—and she was still too weak—that his embrace prevented her from drawing away from him. The other arm? He lifted it high.
It must’ve been some kind of signal. The big guy lumbered out of the darkness, moving swiftly and silently in a way that was at odds with his size. No wonder he reminded her of Rick. With his dark hair buzzed in a military-style cut and his big, muscular frame, Tommy’s bodyguard could pass for Rick’s brother at a glance. He held himself the same way, tough and strong and extremely imposing.
Grace felt the bile rise in her throat. Boone. The drug must’ve really affected her if she forgot about him. She should’ve known better. She should’ve expected him to be lurking nearby.
In her time with Tommy, Boone accompanied them on every date and every meeting. She once confessed to one of the girls in her company that she suspected Boone even stood guard outside the bedroom door when she slept with Tommy. She could never figure out whether Boone was Tommy’s bodyguard, his lackey, or his best friend. A combination of all three, she bet, and if there was one thing she learned for sure, it was that Boone would do anything Tommy ordered him to do, no questions asked.
It shouldn’t have surprised her to discover him there, and if she was thinking more clearly, it wouldn’t have. Instead, she goggled up at the man.
“Boone. I’ve got her and she’s not going anywhere without me. I’ll take her to the car. I need you to go take care of him.”
Him.
The sudden burst of horror brought even more clarity to the lingering haze in her mind. Take care of him. Him.
If Tommy meant Rick—
“No!” Panic was like ice water dashing through her. She struggled against him, pushing his chest, trying in vain to get away. As if she could find Rick first and save him. It was pointless, even in her state Grace understood that, and still she tried. “Tommy, please—”
Wrapping the long strands around his fist, he pulled on her hair, yanking her head close to his mouth. It hurt like hell. She stopped fighting against him because she was already seeing stars from the sharp agony.
She whimpered. “Tommy, please—”
Grace wasn’t begging for mercy from the man. At least, not for herself. She didn’t care if he pulled every hair out by the root if it meant he’d leave Rick alone. She’d deal with that pain if she had to. Losing Rick? She’d never be able to stand it.
And Tommy knew it. He kept his grip tight even if he stopped tugging. It took the edge off the pain, though the relief lasted mere seconds before he leaned over her, his lips pressed against her cheek. “I’ve promised you the world. Over and over again, I’ve offered you everything that I have. I’d give you anything. But that? Sparing his life? I’m sorry, Grace, but that’s one gift I must refuse.”
The heat of his breath on her skin had the opposite effect. It didn’t warm her; instead, she shivered uncontrollably. Each tremor, each shake caused his hold to tighten further. Her head throbbed and she could barely understand him over her racing heart, plus the pulse of pain rushing through her skull.
Until he raised his voice. Cold, brutal, and in absolute control, Tommy called out to his bodyguard. “Kill him, then meet me at the hotel. Grace’s keys are in the house. Take her car after you finish here. I’m done with his place. We’ll get the hell out as soon as you return.”
Grace’s legs went weak beneath her, her head screaming in agony as the patch of hair nearly ripped out of her scalp as she stumbled; only Tommy’s tight grip around her waist kept her from dropping to the dirt. A sharp scream ripped out of her throat, muffled when she shoved her fist between her teeth. The pain was terrible. Even worse? The paralyzing fear that came with knowing that Tommy Mathers never made threats. He always meant exactly what he said, and did what he said he would.
He never bluffed.
She kept one hand in her mouth, teeth biting down against her knuckles. The sudden hurt distracted her from the ache in her scalp. She reached up with her other hand, tugging the strands away from Tommy to give her some relief.
Grace was hysterical. Frantic thoughts ran through her head, something, anything to keep her mind off of Tommy’s last order. When she let Rick in, she didn’t allow herself to worry about what was going to happen to him if Boone got ahold of him. No, she remembered their lessons, and how often Rick warned her not to let her opponent ever get any advantage during a fight.
Her hair. Her goddamn hair. She’d asked him once if she should cut it. His flustered response was her first real clue that maybe he was into her, too. Grace knew she purposely kept it long because Rick liked it.
Now, though? With her past endangering his future, her goddamn hair was as much of a disadvantage as the ten-pound wedding dress and heels she had on.
But Grace had one advantage that she could think of: Tommy. Everything he did, everything he had ever done, had been because he wanted her for himself. No denying that. Giving her gifts, chasing her all over the country, drugging her in an attempt to drag her to their wedding… it wasn’t right, and it wasn’t legal, but he did it all because it was the only way he knew how to get what he wanted.
Me.
He didn’t want to hurt her. Not physically, at least. He never had. As much as she had always been afraid of how far he would go, she never expected him to hurt her. Grabbing her hair? It was just another way to control her. As soon as she reached up, trying to snatch her hair out of his hand while letting out soft pants that proved how much pain she was in, Tommy hurriedly unwound the thick strands from around his hand.
It all happened so fast. His grip on her waist went slack, but Grace was still too weak to stand on her own. She stumbled again. With a muttered curse, Tommy reached out with both hands, lifting her off of the ground before swinging her up in his arms. Half of Boone’s size, she knew that Tommy was deceptively strong. He carried her as if she were weightless, striding down the rest of the path. The fact that he held her like she was already his bride and he was crossing the threshold with her wasn’t lost on Grace.
She thought about struggling again, bucking her body so that he dropped her, before deciding against it. A fall against the ground from that height would only cause her more injury before he scooped her up again. If she wanted to escape him, she needed to be in one piece.
And she desperately needed to keep Rick that way, too.
She glanced over Tommy’s shoulder in time to watch as Boone checked the gun at his waist. A second later, he turned his back on them before slipping off into the murky dusk. Her gasp was soft, yet heart-wrenching. Rick wasn’t here yet. There was still time to fix this.
If Tommy heard her gasp, he didn’t respond to it. Not with words, though the way he squeezed her closer to his chest made Grace suspect he already knew just what she was thinking. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t trying to break free again. The pain in her head mellowed some as a fresh burst of adrenaline pumped through her, knocking the rest of the drug
-induced wooziness out of her. Okay. She might be stuck, but that was okay.
She could still save Rick. No matter what she had to do, she had to try.
Tommy didn’t let go of her until he had propped her against his hip, thrown open the passenger door to his Jaguar, then eased her limp body inside. She didn’t fight him as she shoved the elaborate ruffle of the gown’s skirt inside the car before gently yet efficiently strapping her in. The door closed with a final slam. She took a deep breath, readying herself. Seconds later, Tommy was in the driver’s seat, engaging the automatic locks as soon as he was seated.
He glanced across the console at her, satisfaction in the curve of his lips as he grinned. He was so damn handsome, it made her skin crawl. It wasn’t fair. His outside should’ve reflected how dark and twisted he was on the inside.
She couldn’t do this. Being this close to him, even after all this time… it brought all the memories back. Beneath the confines of the seat belt’s strap, she started to tremble.
“It’s okay, my love. Don’t be afraid. You never have to be afraid of me. True, you shouldn’t have tested me this way.” Tommy clucked his tongue. His voice was so light, so smooth, it was hard to pick up on the threat underlining every word. “Pushing me to this point was extremely unwise, Grace. You know that, don’t you? But you’re mine, so I’m willing to let you make this up to me. Given enough time, and with some effort on your part, I’m sure I’ll eventually forgive you for your betrayal.”
Her throat ached with the effort it took not to scream again. Rick, she told herself. Think of Rick. “My… my betrayal?”
It was dark inside the Jaguar, the tinted windows locking in the gloom, but the pale white light from the radio display reflected the maniacal gleam in his cobalt eyes. “Don’t be stupid. I found you sleeping in another man’s bed. That’s the ultimate betrayal. You know that. Why do you insist on testing me?”
I'll Never Stop (Hamlet Book 4) Page 23
