Paige had stopped screaming and yelling at least two minutes ago. Jules wouldn’t allow herself to think about what he’d done to her friend to silence her.
Nathanial was coming for her and she knew it. Once he returned she suspected what he would try to do.
She’d kill him first.
She heard his footsteps just outside the door, then the knob turned.
She knew the exact moment he realized she wasn’t in the bed where he’d left her. He laughed. “Yes, you are a spirited little one, aren’t you? Come, I have wine and a bit of dinner for you.” His speech pattern was different than from the times she’d spoken with him before. Now it was more formal, more contrived, than when he’d been at Meredith’s dinner table. Did he realize that? What did it mean? Was it an act? Him possibly trying to emulate Malachi’s tone? Malachi’s accent and slight turn of phrase that told of the Brockman family’s time in England?
“What did you do to Paige?” She held the wrapped shard behind her back, hoping he couldn’t see it. She’d hidden a second one under the foot of his bed. If he knocked her down and took the first one hopefully she could get to the second.
“Nothing to concern yourself with. Paige is merely drugged again. I didn’t want to do it, you understand, but I needed her cooperation while I spend this first evening with you. The first time between lovers is always rather special, isn’t it?” He turned to face her, a maddening expression on his face. The fact that she could fight him didn’t concern him at all. He really thought she was no real threat.
“I’ll never be your lover, you sick son of a bitch!” She yelled at him. Jules took her chance, knocking the plate he carried to the floor when she jumped. She rammed the ceramic shard deep into his left shoulder; he screamed and grabbed her arm with one hand and her hair with the other.
He threw her off of him like she weighed no more than Ruthie. Jules held on to her weapon, knowing that she’d have to fight even harder now. She’d been aiming for his heart, but had obviously misjudged. She’d have been better off aiming for his lungs. Or his throat. She pulled it free. She’d have to do it again, and again if necessary.
He was on her then, and she yelled again—right into his ear. She swung with the silk handled shank, stabbing toward him repeatedly.
Some of her blows reached home; she knew they did. His almost inhuman scream told her that.
He had his hands around her throat, cutting off her air. But she wouldn’t give up.
She kicked him, straight in the stomach.
It was enough to get him off of her for only a second. “You bitch!”
“Did you think I’d make it easy for you? You are nothing like him. Nothing! And you will never touch me. Never!”
He rolled to his back, then stood up, the shard in his hand. When had he found it? Why had she put it where he could see it?
His laugh chilled her. He tucked it in his pocket. “I’ll have you, seven ways until Sunday. And I’ll send the tape to your precious Malachi so he can watch me fuck you the way I’ve watched you fuck him!”
He pulled his gun from his waistband and pointed it directly at her heart. Less than six inches separated her from the barrel of the silencer.
Jules froze.
Chapter Seventy-Four
* * *
Malachi heard the screaming and yelling and every vessel in his body turned to ice. Julia; that was his Julia yelling. But where did the bastard have her? And was it her that had screamed?
He ran as quietly as he could, conscious of Lorcan a few steps behind him.
He wanted to yell, to call for her, let her know he was there, but he didn’t.
The element of surprise would only work in their favor.
He knew where the master bedroom was because the floor plan of the bastard’s house was exactly like his. Probably purchased the house because it was designed—and most likely—built by the same firm that had done his home, and the others in his subdivision.
It took stalking to a whole new level.
The master bedroom door was wide open, and Mal held his gun at the ready. He stepped into the frame, casting a large shadow from the hallway light. The top of the shadow rested just over Nate’s shoes.
Both the people in the room froze, and stared at him.
Malachi would never forget the expression on Julia’s face when she first saw him. Nate’s gun was aimed directly at Julia. Close enough to touch her.
They were both covered with blood.
Lorcan hadn’t revealed himself, yet. He was Malachi’s ace-in-the-hole.
“Well. This is unexpected.” Nate grinned, and Malachi saw the madness for the first time. And that madness was too damned close to Julia. “Of course, the perfect Malachi Brockman would show up to play the hero, even suffering from a gunshot wound. Tell me, my old friend, how did you know to come here?”
“Julia. She’s a smart woman. Managed to tell me who...but I had already figured you out, Nate. You see, you were next on the list of men to investigate after Allan. I almost didn’t add you, you see. I didn’t think you’d be worthy of playing such a game with me.” Malachi wanted Nate’s attention focused on him. “No. I just added you because you lived in New York at the same time as I did.”
“Once again, fortune smiles upon the god that is Malachi Brockman. Tell me, has anyone ever told you how annoying all that perfection can be?”
“Ironically, yes. Answer me one thing, Nate. Why? What did I do that made nearly forty people’s lives matter so little to you?” Julia still hadn’t moved. And neither had Nate.
“Perfection. In essence, perfection. For years I was compared to you by my idiot mother. And after that first death, that first moment of realization that you would never truly be as I am, because all of that perfection was fake, I decided to have a bit of fun. Play a game with you, where I was the winner this time.” Nate shrugged, telling him wordlessly that he was attempting not to show how much he cared.
“Won by cheating. How could I play your game, if I never sat down at the board?”
“The game was always there. Because you were too dense to see the board does not change a thing. Julia, I suggest you step over here, my dear. I’d hate to have to shoot you right now. That would grossly interfere with my plans.”
“Don’t move, sweetheart.” Malachi wouldn’t let himself look at her; not yet. “This is between Nate and me. It doesn’t involve you.”
“You’re the boss, Galahad. I’m just here for special effects. Dramatic tension, and all that.”
He nearly smiled; his Julia would always be spitting and fighting when it counted. Did she realize just how strong she was? “Good girl. Damn, I love you.”
“Yeah? Well, I kind of love you, too. But you’re a real lughead for coming here. I was managing just fine with ole-what’s-his-name on my own, you know?”
Malachi laughed, though his gaze never left Nate. “I could always step out a moment, let you finish what you had going on?”
“That’s ok; it’s past Ruthie’s bedtime. I want to go home and tuck her in.” Julia’s voice broke at the last, and Malachi understood she was holding on by a thread. Holding on to give him time to figure this out.
“We’ll do just that in a little while. We need to finish the game, first.”
Chapter Seventy-Five
* * *
She wanted to cry, seeing him standing in the door, looking so big and strong. Looking like safety. He had to be hurting; he’d just been shot twenty-four hours ago. Yes, it had been a mild wound, but it still needed to heal. He needed to heal, not come rescue her from the bad guy. When had she become such a wimp?
She was bleeding. She didn’t know exactly where, or how badly, but there were several slices to her arms and torso. She’d lost a lot of blood; she knew she had. Probably offensive and defensive wounds. Deep ones. She still clutched the porcelain shank in her right hand.
But the gun was still pointed at her.
Nate moved, lunging toward her, grabbing her
left arm. Why had she not seen it coming? He pulled her bodily in front of him, using her as a damned shield. Malachi froze. Probably like Nate knew he would. Malachi would never risk shooting her—or having someone else shoot her.
He jammed the gun under her chin and she cried out.
“Now, we have two options. You put your gun down, or I take your queen.”
Yeah, like she couldn’t have predicted that happening? Even for a bad guy, this madman was starting to sound predictable.
Jules stared into the blue, blue eyes of the man she loved. And that’s when she knew exactly what he would do. What he was planning on doing. He was going to put his gun down. And give himself to this bastard, in hopes that Nate would let her go.
He’d do that, sacrifice himself to protect her. That was the way he was made; he’d do it for anyone he cared about.
But he’d do it without flinching for the woman he loved. For her.
And she would not watch this insane bastard hurt the man she loved again.
“I love you.” She spoke before she even realized it. He needed to know it before whatever happened happened.
His eyes widened. “I love you, too.”
Jules clenched her fingers around the makeshift weapon in her hand. It was all she had.
It would have to do.
Chapter Seventy-Six
* * *
Al heard the screams from outside, and despite her brother’s orders she was two seconds behind Fin and Hell. J.T. and the rest of her brother’s team were more than capable of managing the outside operations.
Her place was inside with the people she cared about.
Hell saw her coming and she knew the man understood. “Your brother is upstairs, Lorcan’s with him. We think Jules is up there. We heard her cussing and yelling. We’re still searching for Paige.”
“I’ve checked the garage. His car’s in there, and so was Paige’s bull skull earring she was wearing today. She’s here, somewhere.” Josh Compton said from behind Al’s shoulder.
“Al and I will check the second floor. Fin, take the third. Compton, first. If Paige is here, she would have heard what was going on. She wouldn’t be sitting still. Unless she’s incapable. We’ve not heard her, yet. We need to find her, and fast.”
Al understood what he was saying—if they hadn’t heard Paige yet, knowing her, there was a reason for it. And that wasn’t good. They proceeded with textbook efficiency, checking each room as they came to it.
No Paige.
Al climbed the stairs of the home that looked so much like her own. Entered the bedroom that was in the same location that hers was. This room was even decorated in the same colors as her own, though the furniture was different.
Creepy, and eerie. And told her that Nate had been in her room at some time in the past, though she’d never invited him in. She knew she felt violated by his betrayal, how worse must Malachi feel?
She opened the door to the bathroom, weapon ready. They still didn’t’ know where Nate was; he could be in any room of the house.
It wasn’t Nate inside.
Paige was tied up and thrown in the antique-replica claw foot tub, her head lolled back, and her body limp.
Al checked each corner of the small room, making absolutely sure Nate wasn’t around. “Paige? Dammit, Paige, you better be sleeping...”
She checked Paige’s pulse; it was low and sluggish. Weak. Hell came in behind her. Cursed when he saw Paige. Al texted J.T. and Fin that they’d found her.
And to have an ambulance ready. Because whatever he had given her, it was doing more than just sedating Paige.
Yelling and thuds, the sound of a scuffle came from upstairs just as Hell lifted Paige out of the tub. He turned to Al. “Get up there; help your brother and Jules. I’ve got her. Go!”
Al nodded, didn’t hesitate. She went.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
* * *
Malachi lowered his gun to the floor, just like Jules knew he would. He kicked it away, sending it backwards out into the hall.
The bastard holding her laughed. “That’s the thing about you, Malachi. Every time we played, you would make the most predictable of moves. Always put your king in check recklessly. Always, and without thought. It was how I’d beat you each and every time. This time is no different.”
He turned the weapon on Malachi.
Jules yelled, pulled her weight down and to the left. Nate went with her, jerked off-balance by surprise.
Jules jabbed the porcelain shard into Nate’s leg, aiming for the femoral artery. She pushed as deeply as she could, ignoring the burn as the shard sliced through the silk wrapped around it, as it cut deeply into her own skin. She stabbed, and then twisted.
He screamed an agonized wail that she would never, ever forget. And then he doubled over, his hand still clutching his gun.
He loomed over her where she still sat on his floor, his face mere inches from her own. “No...”
“That’s the game, you sick son of a bitch.” He heard her whisper; she knew he had. “That’s check and mate. Game over. The queen’s match.”
He raised the gun just as a bullet struck his chest. Then another. And another.
He fell directly on top of her, his gun falling uselessly to his side.
Sebastian Lorcan stood in the doorway, eyes trained on Nate’s body. In his hands he held two guns. He handed one toward Malachi, grip-first. “Used yours. Figured it was appropriate since you tossed it my way. And considering it was your move. And one hell of a move it was.”
Chapter Seventy-Eight
* * *
Al made it up the stairs in time to see her brother grabbing Jules from the floor and running. He nearly barreled over her; she jumped out of the way just in time.
Jules was covered with so much blood. Had it been hers? Nate’s? Al stared at his body for a moment, then looked away. He wasn’t worth her regard anymore. She looked at Lorcan instead. He was overseeing the body until the next steps could be taken. They both knew the drill.
“We found Paige. She’s drugged, with what we don’t know. Hell’s carrying her to the ambulance. We’re not waiting for EMTs to get her.” She’d known Nate as long as she could remember. What had Malachi said? That they’d met when Al was just a baby? How could someone she’d been close to for almost thirty years have done all of this?
Even with her background, with the things she’d seen she would never understand this.
“Is he dead?”
“Yes. I shot him, but Jules’ took care of him herself, too. Hit the femoral artery, is my guess.” He motioned to the porcelain sticking out of Nate’s leg.
“Whose blood?” It was everywhere in the room that looked so much like her brother’s.
“Both, I think. I think she’s been cut, and I don’t know how badly. Go. Fin and I will handle things here. Be with your family and Paige. They need you now.”
Al went.
Chapter Seventy-Nine
***
She held pressure on her injured hand while he carried her out of the house of hell. “I meant it.”
“I know you did.” He couldn’t, wouldn’t, think of that. Not when she was bleeding in his arms. “How badly are you hurt?”
“I’m bleeding. Have been for a while now. Defensive and offensive wounds. I gave the bastard a run for his money.” Her words were wispy, weak. Quiet and terrifying.
“That you did.”
“Had Lorcan not shot him he’d still be dead right now. I’m not a coward. I fought, and I won.”
“That you did.”
“I didn’t need rescued.” She rested her head against his shoulder. “Not really.”
“No, you didn’t.” She was trembling. From adrenaline? Shock? How bad were the injuries? He hastened his step, ignoring the pain in his side and back from yesterday’s injury.
“I did what I had to do. To protect myself. And you. I’m not a coward. Not any longer.”
“Honey, you never really were. It
just took you a while to see that.”
“I love you. I was going to tell you...before...before he was there. I didn’t tell you inside just because I thought I was going to die. Or you were. You need to understand that. It’s not like that. Not for me. I meant it.”
Was she in shock? Was that why she kept going on and on? “I know you did.”
“So...you know. And I know. So now what?”
“Now we get you to the hospital. Check on Paige...and Mick.” Shame hit him as he realized he’d forgotten his own brother.
“I wanted to help him more. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to leave him there. Didn’t want him to die like Bryan had.”
“I don’t know if he’s ok, sweetheart. I left before we knew. But he was alive when I left. And he’s big and strong and one hell of a fighter.” Was his brother dead? Was that what he faced at the hospital?
She must have known what he was feeling. “He is strong. And from what I saw, it was entirely possible the bullet or bullets missed everything vital.”
She went limp against him. Her eyes closed for a moment. “I don’t know...and it hurts like hell. I’m still bleeding...I’m type AB+. Prob’ly going to need some...”
Fear had him nearly running to the nearest ambulance. He thrust her onto the gurney, then climbed in beside her. The EMTs were seconds behind him. “Go! She’s lost a lot of blood! Go!”
He leaned over her. “You’ll be ok. We’ll get you taken care of, then we’ll go get Ruthie, and go home. Then we’ll talk about tomorrow.”
She didn’t hear him; he looked at her face. Her pretty, pretty eyes were closed.
“Sir, sir. You need to step back. Give us room to move!” The female EMT shoved him out of her way. Blood was everywhere. Had Nate shot her?
HUNTING (PAVAD) Page 25
