His Weekend Wife (The KNIGHT Brothers Book 2)

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  She and Declan had been home a week since they’d left the Hannigan Estate. Understandably, he’d been working late hours taking care of the merger.

  Declan had invited Roe to the office to be a part of the changes, but apparently things were working out grand for the man. He’d reunited with Eliza and they were enjoying exploring their memories in Italy.

  Ash gave the sauce a stir and sighed. If only she knew her future with Declan.

  She still wore the ring, and neither of them had mentioned where they would go from here. The month they’d agreed upon wasn’t over and she wondered if he was waiting until the end of the thirty days to grant her a divorce.

  Truthfully, she no longer wanted to divorce him. Over the last few weeks she’d realized that she loved him, had never stopped. Angelina was right. Ash and Declan belonged together.

  Her cell rang from the table and she hurried to answer it, hoping to hear Declan’s voice, but instead, it was Abby.

  “Ash?”

  Squeezing the phone tighter, she debated whether to hang up. She loved her sister dearly, but Ash had reached a point where she needed to let Abby figure things out for herself. In the end, she couldn’t walk away. “What’s wrong, Abby?”

  “I-I’m in trouble.” Her voice shook and her sniffling vibrated the line.

  Ash’s spine straightened. “What is it? Where are you?”

  “Ash…he’s going to kill me. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.” Her voice cracked.

  “Tell me where you are. I’ll call the police.”

  “No!” Abby sobbed louder. “You can’t!”

  “Okay then. I’ll come get you. Is he there?” Ash was already shutting off the stove and sliding into her flats. Her heart was beating fast and her palms sweaty.

  “No—no. But he’s coming back. I’m at his place.”

  “I’ll be there soon.” The line went dead. “Abby? Are you still there?” She looked down at the screen and the call was disconnected. “Shit!” Ash tossed her phone into her purse and rushed out of the door.

  *****

  “Are you sure?” Declan looked at Todd over the paperwork he’d only just received.

  “The private investigator is one of the best. I brought the information just as soon as he gave it to me.”

  Declan blew out a long breath from the corner of his mouth and dropped the papers to his desk, rereading the PI’s report. “Phillipe Diago is actually Rudy Pryor. He’s been arrested numerous times and served time in prison for fraud, resisting arrest, probation violation, possession of a narcotic and battery. Ol’ Phillipe, or should I say Pryor, has quite the rap sheet.” Declan tapped the paper.

  “And you said this fellow is a friend of Ash’s?”

  “Not a friend. He just happens to be dating her sister.”

  “He doesn’t seem the type of man a woman would want to be around for long.”

  Declan sighed and rubbed his brows. Although the details were clearly written in black and white, it went deeper than the obvious. He’d guessed from the beginning that Phillipe had intended to extort the thirty grand and the gambling debt was just a ruse, but Declan had the feeling this was only the beginning. People like Phillipe were all the same, once they got a taste, they couldn’t stop until they were stopped.

  And Declan had every intention of being the wall that put an end to the likes of a bastard like Phillipe. There certainly wouldn’t be any more using Ash to gain in his dirty deeds.

  Getting up, Declan rounded the desk and headed for the door.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Todd asked.

  “I’m heading home. I’ve got business to take care of.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Reaching Phillipe’s apartment, Ash climbed the stairs, each rung causing more acid to build inside of her throat. Several times she’d almost called the police on her drive here. But she was afraid she’d put Abby in further jeopardy. She’d also debated on whether she should call Declan, but he wouldn’t want her here. He’d demand they call the police.

  Phillipe’s apartment was in a seedy part of town so Ash wasn’t surprised when she had to wade through ankle deep trash, and a stoned-looking man leaning vicariously against the wall, before she reached the last door on the right.

  She knocked and the door swung open. Abby was standing on the other side of the threshold, her hair was ratted, her clothes were ripped and wrinkled, but the large, blue bruising on her right cheek was fresh. Anger tore through Ash. “What the hell, Abby?”

  “I’m sorry, Ash. I really am. I had no choice.” Abby burst into tears.

  “What are you talking about?” Ash moved forward just as Abby was ripped away from the door and Phillipe stepped into the opening, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Phillipe? What are you doing here?”

  He laughed. “I’m here to see a design come through and you’re the center of the plan.”

  “Fuck you!” She started to turn, but he reached out, grabbed her shoulder and dragged her across the threshold. She landed hard on her bottom, sliding a few feet on the dirty wooden floor. She barely had time to catch her breath before Phillipe was threading his fingers into her hair, clutching the strands in his fist and lifting her. The popping of roots sounded loud in her ears as she followed his tug. He gave her a slight push and she landed on the end of the crumpled bed.

  Abby stood in the middle of the room, trembling, her shoulders slumped, and a tear soaked face smeared with mascara. Phillipe swatted her hard on the behind. “Phillipe, leave Ash alone! Please,” she pleaded.

  “We’ve been through this!” he seethed. “You just don’t get it!”

  “She doesn’t have to be here. There must be another way.”

  “Bitch, I’m done talking with you about this shit. Now get the fuck over there before I lose my temper and throw you out of the window!” He pulled a gun from the waist of his jeans that had been hidden underneath the tail of his shirt. He waved it hazardously. “Don’t make me say it again.”

  Without any more hesitation, she ambled over and sat next to Ash who was absorbing the seriousness of the situation, yet there were a few loose ends. “Tell me what’s happening here? There’s no need for the gun, Phillipe. Just let us leave and we won’t tell anyone.”

  He laughed and the screeching sound twisted Ash’s stomach into knots. “Do you really think this is about not wanting that cunt to leave?” He jabbed the point of the gun through the air toward Abby who whimpered and buried her face into Ash’s shoulder. “I should have gotten rid of that whore a long time ago, but when I saw the opportunity for payday, I decided she was worth hanging onto a while longer. At least she’s a good fuck, even if she’s had every dick in town in her pussy.”

  “A payday? She doesn’t have money.” Ash narrowed her eyes.

  “You’re starting to understand.”

  The truth came at Ash with the intensity of a bolt of lightning. She glanced over at her sobbing sister, then back at Phillipe who was still grinning, showing off a row of yellow teeth. He certainly wasn’t the charming, good looking man he was when he first came into Abby’s life. “I don’t have money either.”

  “Oh, but that rich husband of yours has enough for all of us.” He sniffed loudly and swiped the back of his sleeve across his red nose.

  “Maybe Abby should have filled you in on the details. It’s obvious you’re missing a lot here. Declan and I have been separated for five years. I have no access to his money.”

  “Do you think I’m stupid? What man would give a woman thirty grand with no questions asked? A loaded sucker who still has the hots for a piece of pussy. I’m not a betting man or nothing—” he snorted, “but if I was, I’d say the suit would be willing to pay just about anything to get his wife back.” He slipped his watery gaze down her. “Hell, I’d tap that shit.”

  The realization that she’d made a mistake coming came to her the second she saw Phillipe, but now she understood all too well that she’d put Declan into harm’s way too. Everythin
g she cared about was under the thumb of the psycho standing before her waving a gun.

  “He won’t give you a dime,” she said through tight lips. “He knows you’re a dirty, stinking ass who would only snort away the money.”

  “What do you think, sweetheart?” Phillipe strolled to Abby and lifted her chin with the nuzzle of the gun. “You think this Knight fellow will be willing to pay for your bitch sister?” Abby’s hands were trembling. When she didn’t answer, he gave her bare foot a stomp with his boot. She cried out and bent over. “Answer, cunt!”

  “Leave her alone, asshole!” Ash blocked Abby.

  It took her a good minute, but finally the sobs stopped. Abby didn’t lift her chin. “Yes. I told you already,” she mumbled.

  “Exactly, baby.” He brought the gun tip to Abby’s cheek and gradually followed the line of her jaw. When he got to her lips, he pushed the nozzle hard and she fell back to the bed.

  Ash leaned over her sister, covering part of her body with her own “You’re a sick bastard!” Ash held his gaze steady. The last thing she’d do was falter under his stare.

  “I always knew I picked the wrong sister. I like your guts, baby.” He wiped the back of his hand across his nose again. “I think we could have had some good times.” He grabbed his crotch and squeezed.

  “You keep thinking because that’s as far as you’ll ever get with me.” Her insides were a mass of trepidation, but her voice was firm.

  “Let me put it to you this way, cunt. If the suit doesn’t pay up, then the only thing I’ll know is what you and your sister’s brains look like smeared all over this wall. Got that?” He dug his hand into his pocket and withdrew his cell. “Your cooperation means this will all go easier for everyone involved. I need his number.”

  “Good luck,” Ash said.

  One corner of his mouth lifted and his gaze narrowed. “Then let’s play it the hard way. He stepped over to Abby, grabbed her hand and twisted. She screamed in pain that made Phillipe’s grin grow by miles. He liked the agony he caused in others, that was apparent.

  “Let her go!” Ash stood up, giving Phillipe’s shoulder a push.

  “Number?”

  “Give me the phone.”

  He handed the cell over, still holding Abby’s hand in his tight grip. “Type it in.”

  “I will.”

  Instead of letting go, he grabbed her middle finger and pushed it back so far that the bone cracked. She became pale and he dropped her hand. She held it against her chest, her sobs echoing off the bare walls.

  “Now you understand how clear I am on making sure you follow the rules. Next time it’ll be her arm. Got it?”

  Without a word, Ash typed in the number and started to bring the phone to her ear, but Phillipe jerked it out of her hand, pulling out some of her hair too. Ash dropped back to the bed and comforted Abby, and listened.

  “You don’t know me, amigo, but I’m now your worst nightmare,” Phillipe sneered into the phone.

  Ash cringed.

  “Don’t threaten me. The only thing I want is for you to listen. You’re lucky because I only want money, not blood on my hands.”

  *****

  Declan held the phone tight in his hand. The second he’d walked into his empty apartment he’d known something was wrong. Ash would have told him if she was leaving, and the still hot pots on the stove and the burning pie in the oven told him she’d left in a hurry. For the five minutes that he’d scrambled around the place looking for any clue of where she’d gone were the worst minutes of his life. And he’d known, without a doubt, that Phillipe had something to do with his wife’s disappearance.

  The call now wasn’t any surprise. Declan was somewhat calm, yet on the inside he was a raging bull ready to reach through the receiver and rip off the bastard’s head. “Tell me what you want,” Declan said, willing to do whatever needed done to make sure Ash was safe.

  The man’s chuckle elevated Declan’s heart rate. “Let’s get down to business. If you want to see your pretty wife again, then you’ll cough up one hundred grand.”

  “Done.” The low number showed the other man’s lack of intelligence. If he’d done his research he would have known Declan’s worth and made his price higher.

  There was a long hesitation as if Declan’s quick answer caught him off guard. Yeah, just as Declan figured, the man was an impulsive train wreck and he could easily use that against him.

  “Call the police and she’s dead. Tell anyone and she’s dead. Show up a minute late and she’s dead.” Phillipe’s raw tone made Declan’s spine ache.

  “Tell me where we meet.”

  “At the old train station, you know, the one with the old car and the American flag flying from a window.”

  “Yes, I do know. But there’s one more thing…”

  Another hesitation. “Yes?”

  “I need to speak with her. I need to know she’s okay.” He gripped the cell, hearing plastic crack and wishing it was the man’s skull.

  “Make it quick,” he growled. There was rustling sound on the other end.

  “Declan?” Ash’s voice trembled.

  “Are you okay?” His gut tightened.

  “Yes…as best as can be expected.” He could hear the shaking in her voice.

  “I’m coming to get you.”

  “Dec—”

  “You’ve heard enough,” Phillipe muttered.

  “Phillipe?”

  “Yes?”

  “If you harm one hair on her body, I’ll kill you. Understand?”

  His harsh laugh was the last thing Declan heard before the concluding click ended the call.

  He hit a number on his cell and Todd answered on the second ring. “I need one hundred grand in cash.”

  “Sir, is everything okay?” Todd asked.

  Declan only half-heard his assistant because he didn’t have the time to shoot the shit. “No time to explain. Have it ready in thirty minutes.” He hung up. Todd could be trusted to gather the money. No one understood Declan more, except Ash.

  Acid washed up his throat. Damn! He felt somewhat responsible that she was in the unsafe hands of the bastard, Phillipe. Declan had known from the moment she’d asked for the money that something wasn’t right—or safe. And especially when she’d told him that Phillipe had taken the money for his own benefit, lying to get what he needed.

  Declan dialed another familiar number. It was answered before the first ring ended. “I need your help. Can you be in Atlanta by six-thirty?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Ash cursed under her breath as Phillipe grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her from the backseat of the car. The blindfold kept her from seeing anything and the rope tied at her wrists made her shoulders ache painfully. She was thrown hard to the ground and her knees struck dirt, pebbles dug into her skin—feeling like needles jabbing into her flesh.

  Then she heard Abby’s whimper and moan, a second before she fell against Ash. Apparently, she’d been tossed like a rag doll too.

  “Listen up, ladies. I don’t want to hear one word from either of you. My patience has left the building.” Ash could hear the strain in Phillipe’s voice.

  Although scared, she knew her husband—knew he’d outsmart any of Phillipe’s conniving moves. He said he only wanted the money and then he’d let her and Abby go, but Ash didn’t believe anything he said. There was no believing a manipulative liar. From the fear she saw in her sister earlier, Phillipe was dangerous.

  Hearing the shuffling of shoes against rocks, Ash sat up straight and listened closer. Without the use of her eyesight, the only thing she could rely on were her ears. She followed the faint noises, tracking his movements.

  The silence became loud.

  She couldn’t stand being left in the darkness. She had to know what was happening around her. Any move she made was risky, but sitting here in the dirt was far more dangerous.

  Lowering her face to her shoulder, she rubbed at the cloth covering her eyes. She continued push
ing until the material slipped slightly, giving her a sliver of sight. She blinked against the brightness of the sun and it took her several moments before her eyes adjusted to the bright light. Phillipe stood almost fifty feet away, close to an abandoned boxcar marked with graffiti and a spray-painted picture of a naked woman. His gun was positioned in the waist of his jeans. Ideas came to mind on how she could get the gun away from him, but no plan was fail-proof.

  He reached into his front pocket and pulled something out. She couldn’t quite make out what it was, until he dipped his pinky inside then brought it to his nose, sniffing the contents loudly. He lifted the empty plastic baggie, held it up high in the sun’s rays. “Shit!” he muttered and threw the bag on the ground.

  “Ash?” Abby muttered, lifting herself up on her elbow. She had a bloody spot at the corner of her mouth and the bruising on her face seemed exceptionally stark.

  “Shh! Don’t say anything,” Ash whispered, darting a glance at Phillipe who wasn’t aware.

  “I’m sorry, Ash. I am. I really am.” Her sister’s sobs thickened. “Will you ever forgive me? We won’t make it, will we? He’s going to kill us.”

  “Listen, we will get out of this alive. Declan will make sure that happens.” Just as when they were kids, she had an overwhelming need to protect Abby, even after everything.

  The sound of rocks being kicked up brought Ash’s attention to the stretch of overgrown lot scattered with trash and empty beer cans. Declan! He came around the boxcar, his expression marred with a mixture of anger, worry, and menace. His eyes were narrowed on Phillipe and he carried a large black duffel bag.

  So, he brought the cash.

  Ash’s stomach turned.

  Declan saw her and he came to a dead stop, all emotion flooding his expression except for a warning of his inner turmoil.