Her narrowed eyes stared out the large windows at Jubilee Mountain. It was much more pleasant than watching Seth’s anger foment and bubble over.
“How long does it take for him to get to the ice rink?”
“About an hour,” she replied, and regretted it. She should have given him more time. She was no good at thinking on the fly. Mark was cool under pressure, calm and reliant and strong. She, however, vibrated at a very high frequency. Too nervous, too open, too everything to be really cool.
The image of Mark filled her mind, her heart, even her body. She could feel an impression of him against her, inside her, like he’d branded her very soul. How would she ever make this okay? She couldn’t. It was just the end of things and she had to be the Alpha Girl and just fucking handle it.
Seth picked up the bottle of whisky and opened it, throwing the cap down on the reception desk. He took a deep swallow.
“Want some?” he asked. His eyes were glittering. Daring her. Or daring her not to.
She shook her head.
“It’ll help with the pain.”
Her cheek still throbbed where he’d struck her twice, but she didn’t want or need his kind of medication.
He laughed bitterly. “You left me to sleep with that guy,” he said, then laughed again. It was an eerie sound. Hysterical. “The problem with you is that you’re a money hungry bitch. You can take comfort that it is a universal trait among your gender. You want money and that’s the only thing you care about. He had the big house, the big family name… and you had my money.”
She glanced at her with that accusing stare. She didn’t want to risk saying anything that would set him off again.
“I did everything for you!” He shouted suddenly.
He took a step toward her, crowding her against the cold window. “You ungrateful bitch,” he growled, breath stinking of whiskey.
His reddened face was so close to hers, she thought he might try to kiss her. She drew herself back to put some space between them and he laughed again. “One hour,” he said suddenly. “What should we do for an hour?”
He reached out and grasped her breast. Instinctively, she pulled back, swatting his hands away.
“Saving it for him?” he asked. Holding the whisky bottle by the neck, he lifted it and took another long pull.
Mark flung open the doors of the mall, his focus narrowed to his mission. It was strange how the layout of the mall floated up from a bundle of suppressed memories from his high school days. Ancient muscle memory guided him to the main floor. He took a sharp left, striding past the food court to a corridor of brightly lit women’s boutiques that led to the railing, where people could watch the ice skaters below. Mark walked down the steps, and to small office front. A rather dazed looking woman glanced up but didn’t say anything as he breezed past.
He pushed open the door to the women’s changing room, relieved it was empty. Mark’s shaking fingers got the key in the lock. He flung it open and grabbed the bag.
As he turned to go, he saw a huge man enter, followed by a scrappy little guy covered with tattoos. The guy smirked at him, his eyes as cold as slate.
“My name is Carlos, and that money is mine.”
The phone rang. Seth answered. “You got it?” he demanded.
Aimee held her breath and set up a prayer to the Goddess of Terrified Alpha Girls.
A grotesque smile broke out on Seth’s face. “Excellent. Bring it here.”
Aimee nearly melted to the floor with gratitude. Thank you, Mark. Thank you for knowing me, for knowing the right thing to do.
Mark had been up these narrow mountain roads countless times, but everything looked different now. Brighter. Sharper focused. He could see the detail in every leaf as though it was under a microscope. He noticed it all, even as he drove faster than he had ever dared on the narrow, steep roads that led to the Starlight Resort. He had to slow only once or twice to give a chance for Carlos’s driver to catch up. In the rear-view mirror, he was only two car lengths away.
He could not allow Aimee to die. He simply could not live without her. His flesh withered at the thought of Aimee in the resort with Seth, at his mercy. He would have to get her out of there alive. Beyond that, it was entirely up to Aimee.
It had taken him thirty-five years to find her, a woman he had not even believed existed, the mythical One. The wife. The woman he wanted to dedicate his life to, the woman who made him laugh and think and love. Oh God, yes. Love. He loved her until he was just sick with it. Until it was the only thing he really cared about. It was a huge shock to discover that love really existed.
He wasn’t about to surrender her to fate – or to Seth.
He leaned over, checking the glove box for a gun. No dice. Well, he’d have to perform a rescue unarmed. Big deal.
He steered the truck to the edge of the road and waited for Carlos’s SUV to do the same.
Mark dialed the reception number.
“Yeah?” Seth answered. He sounded a little drunk. That might work in his favor if Seth’s reactions and thinking were slowed. On the other hand, Mark had known some drunks who were mean as the devil, irrational, violent, and had no impulse control. He put Seth in the second category.
“I’m about half an hour away,” Mark said. It was a ruse to relax him. To defuse the tension that must be thick in the resort, with Aimee held hostage and them both waiting for the money.
“Get here in the next ten minutes or I swear to God I will blow her away. I do not give a fuck about her, I just want my money. Do not push me.”
Mark shut his eyes, clenching his teeth. “Don’t touch her.”
“You’re not calling the shots here, asshole. Just get here in the next ten minutes.”
The line went dead.
Mark drove up two more switchbacks. He turned down the road that led to the resort, but pulled over halfway there. With Carlos following, he drove a little way into the aspens and shut off the engine.
Behind him, he watched the big guy and Carlos get out of the SUV. Mark stepped out. He was nervous about trusting these guys. They were lawless fuckups. But maybe that was just the type of guy he needed.
Grabbing the empty Nike bag, he slung it over his shoulder and got out of the truck. The road was pretty much a straight shot, which was bad luck in case Seth was watching for him. If he saw him with Carlos he might just kill Aimee on general principle.
Mark tried to navigate the trio close the trees as they approached, but at this altitude, trees were sparse.
“It’s fucking cold up here,” Carlos groused.
Mark didn’t answer.
Reaching the resort, he directed them around to the staff entrance. The key unlocked the heavy metal door, and slowly he opened it, anticipating Seth or bears or worse.
It was just a smelly corridor, though there were bear footprints on the linoleum. Mark walked toward the main lobby, reasoning that is where Aimee and Seth probably were, but paused when he heard Aimee shout, “No, Seth!”
He stood stock still, his heart squeezing so tight it stole his breath. Carlos frowned, then smiled when he realized the person he’d been trying to kill for weeks was within striking distance.
From the back office where the accountants worked, Mark peeked around and saw them in the musty light. Seth was holding a length of rope and hauling Aimee by the arm to a chair while she wriggled and writhed and tried to free herself from his clawing grasp.
Mark looked at Carlos, who nodded.
Mark stepped into the room. “Don’t.”
A sickening grin oozed across Seth’s face. “So here he is. Your rescuer. Superman.” He laughed.
Mark’s focus was on Aimee’s tearstained face. She stood shaking near the chair. Only then did he notice that her shirt was torn, her pants were pulled down to her knees. Oh fuck.
Black spots danced in front of his eyes. He had no idea he was capable of the depth of rage that screamed through his body. He wanted to murder Seth Sabich. And yet the gun in Seth�
��s hand put Mark at a distinct disadvantage. He would have to strategize through this with psychology, not muscle.
Mark walked casually into the room. “I’m here,” he said. “I have the money.”
Aimee’s exhaled a shaky breath as her eyes laserlocked on him. He tried to throw her a little smile, something to let her know it was all under control. Her expression gave nothing away.
“Open the bag, pour out the cash.”
Of course. Of course that would be the very first thing he would demand.
“Sure,” Mark said calmly. He inched toward Aimee.
Seth dropped the rope and held the gun up, directly at Mark’s head.
“Seth don’t,” Aimee whispered.
“It’s okay,” Mark said calmly just as Seth shouted again, demanding Aimee shut up.
“Open the bag.”
“Aimee, pull your pants up,” Mark said.
Slowly she bent over and began to work them back over her hips.
“The money!” Seth shouted.
Mark took the bag off his shoulder and held it by the thick strap. “Let Aimee walk out the door and I’ll give you the money.”
“Listen dickhead, you’re not calling the shots here. I’m in control. Not you. Certainly not that bitch.”
“Sure, Seth, you’re in control. I’m asking your permission to let Aimee walk out before I give you the money. This has nothing to do with her anymore. It’s just you and me.”
Seth’s eyes narrowed to wet slits. “Dump the cash on the floor right now or I’ll put a bullet in her head and then yours.”
Mark opened the bag, his heart pounding. “Let her go.”
Aimee suddenly grabbed the bag from Mark’s hand, and dashed for the stairs. As soon as Seth spun around to grab her, Mark lunged, grabbing Seth by the throat with his powerful forearm, yanking him back into the lobby.
Mark heard a shot go off, then suddenly felt himself being dragged downward.
Through suddenly fuzzy vision, he saw Aimee and Seth scuffling, and he tried to rally, get up to help, but gravity was holding him in place. He started to slide down a long, painless slope. “Love you Aimee,” he said before he lost consciousness.
Aimee stood beside Mark, her gaze fixed on the gun. It was directly at Mark’s heart. She heard Seth antagonizing, threatening, bullying, demanding. It was ridiculous to discover it at that exact moment, but she was so sick of it. Same old Seth, same old playbook.
But she was not the same old Aimee.
She grabbed the bag and ran for the stairs. The next instant, a shot rang out, and she saw Mark stoop over. What happened next was automatic. She wasn’t thinking, for if she had, she might have gone directly to Mark. But she saw that Seth was in shock, looking at Mark. She grabbed the strap of the bag and looped it around his throat, pulling him away from Mark, and choking him. The gun clattered to the ground as both his hands reached up to his neck to relieve the terrible pressure of the strangling strap.
“Let him go,” a man said as he walked inside the room. He was holding up a bag.
The visage was so unexpected that she simply did as he commanded. He was frankly ugly, with huge crawling tattoos and a scar on his cheek.
“Hey Seth, looks like we finally met up.”
Aimee looked to Seth, who had never looked more terrified. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen anyone look so scared.
“I finally got my money back,” the man said. He looked at Aimee and said, “Thanks for taking care of most of it.”
She stood still.
“Love you Aimee.”
The whispered words brought her attention back to Mark. Shocked, she fell to the floor and lifted up Mark’s shirt. Blood was seeping from a wound to his left side, about four inches under his ribs.
“Tell me what to do,” she said.
“Pressure.”
She put her hands to the wound, trying to stanch the bleeding. She had thought that the tender feelings she had for him could not be any more intense. Wrong. Dead wrong. The wound to his body was like a wound to her own flesh.
She pressed her hands to the wound. Mark’s color wasn’t good. He was very pale. “You’re okay,” she said, remembering that he had said the same thing when she had a lacerated spleen, when she was hours from death. Believing that had saved her then. She wanted to be okay. She trusted him even then.
“You’re going to be just fine. Really. It isn’t very bad.”
His hand reached up to touch her face. “Know it. I love you.”
She turned desperately to Seth and saw that he too was lying on the floor, his arm and nose broken. She felt nothing, even seeing his desperation. “I need help,” she said to the man who had beat up Seth. “I need to get him to the hospital.”
“Okay.” He held a gun over Seth, moving it from his shattered face to his crotch.
“You be okay if we leave you here, Seth?” he taunted.
Seth didn’t answer.
Carlos pulled the trigger. Aimee jumped back, scared. Carlos shrugged. “It’s just his foot for now.” To Seth, he said, “You wait here, asshole. I’ll be back after I take this dude to the hospital.”
Aimee sat in the backseat, next to Mark, her tears flowing down her face. She had so many questions, so many things to say, and in the end, she could voice none of them. She just bent over Mark, willing him to live.
The SUV seemed to be on rails. She was glad for the speed; at least there was no question that they had to hurry. She glanced at the driver once or twice, and the man in the passenger seat, the man who had beaten up and shot Seth.
He was the man Seth stole the money from. She wondered if he knew that she had lost most of it in the airplane crash, and if he would come after her once he figured it out.
The SUV stopped in front of the emergency room and Aimee ran inside, screaming for help. The nurses and doctors hustled Mark out of the truck and into surgery, leaving her feeling bereft and at loose ends.
She walked back to the lobby and sat down. This was the same hospital Mark had brought her to when he’d found her. The same doctors might be working on Mark. She silently prayed that they would have as much luck with him as they had with her.
She bent over and held her head in her hands, fighting back tears.
A hand appeared on her shoulder. “Miss Baxter?”
Startled, she looked up to see five dark suited agents towering over her. “Ma’am, we are with the Secret Service. We’d like a word with you.”
Aimee tried to keep up with everything the agents were saying, tried to answer their questions, but the confusion and worry over Mark kept sidelining her thought process. Not to mention the intimidation she felt with all the agents hovering around her.
“Do you know Jane Flowers?”
The question was so unexpected that she only blinked at them.
“Jane Flowers? Do you know her? Have you ever visited the Flowers Vintage Shop?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“Did you purchase anything in her shop?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Kevin, do you mind?” Another agent cut in. “She’s stressed…”
The agent backed off.
“I’m Guy Theriot. I investigate plane crashes. I believe you were on Flight 134.”
She looked into his brown eyes, and was surprised to find kindness there. “I was,” she said. It felt freeing to have no secrets left.
“You walked away. Why?”
“I had taken some money from my ex-boyfriend, and I was scared of him finding out where I am.”
“Miss Baxter, that money is counterfeit. Did you know that?”
She sat in stunned silence for a moment. Finally she shook her head. “No.”
“Yesterday, Jane Flowers was arrested when she attempted to deposit some cash from her shop into her bank account. That’s how we found you. You’ve been passing bad money all over Spanner.”
Of all the nasty things she’d credit to Seth – murder, extortion, blackmail – she’d
overlooked counterfeiting. She felt the whole world crack at that moment. She’d fled with stolen fake cash. All that freedom she’d been dreaming about… it had been paid for using counterfeit money.
Shame and exhaustion washed over her. The money, like her inability to leave Seth, had been an illusion. The only honest thing she’d done in years was try to leave him.
She wilted.
“Is Jane okay? Is she still in jail?”
“No, she has been released. But Carrie Graham and Larissa Jenkins are still talking to the Secret Service.”
“They are absolutely innocent,” she said with sudden passion. “I am at fault. I was spending the money… they just happened to have shops…”
The surgery doors swung open and a doctor walked out. Aimee instinctively stood up, eager for news. “Aimee Baxter?” he called out.
“Can this wait?” Aimee asked Theriot. “I think the only urgent thing I must tell you is that Seth is at Starlight Resort right now.” She began to say something about Carlos, but held her tongue.
“We can talk after you speak to the doctor.”
“He’s going to be fine,” the surgeon said. “He’s got a few broken ribs, and a punctured spleen, but he’ll live.”
Aimee melted against the wall. Relief flooded through her. “Can I see him?”
“Just for a few minutes,” the doctor said. He pointed her down the corridor.
Aimee wondered at the weird cosmic twist that brought her to this position, walking down the hallway to the room that Mark had walked two months ago. It seemed like years ago. So much had happened.
She eased open the door and peeked her head in. Mark was lying on his back, his eyes slit open. He smiled faintly when he saw her.
She smiled back and came to his bedside. “How are you?” She took his hand.
Crash Into You Page 22
