“Get inside.”
Tilly didn’t give Mills time to agree—or run. He shoved the smaller man into the closet, entered, then waited for Sawyer before turning on the light and shutting the door. He crossed his arms, kept quiet, and did as she asked, provided backup.
“You have the floor, Mills. What’s so important you left the sanctuary of your mother and Beverly Hills?”
Mills’ gaze skittered from Sawyer to Tilly and back as if trying to decide how to proceed. Finally, his words tumbled out in one long sentence, free of pauses or punctuation.
“I wanted to make Mother happy and I knew the money meant everything and you wouldn’t cooperate and married that interloper so I talked to Vincent Deluca who owns Deluca’s restaurant figuring he’s Italian so he might know who to call and he did so I did.”
“You did what?” Sawyer asked, surprised she’d followed his ramblings at all.
Mills clasped his hands in distress as tears streamed down his face.
“After your visit, I started to worry. Prison is for criminals.” He sobbed harder. “I tried to call it off, but the number for the guy didn’t work, and Vincent Deluca said once a transaction is made, there’s no going back.”
“Back?” Sawyer gave up on Mills and turned to Tilly. “Any idea what he’s talking about?”
“Fucking weasel.” Grabbing Mills by the front of his shirt, Tilly lifted him off the ground. “You hired a hitman to take down Beck?”
“What?” Sawyer gasped.
“When and where?” Tilly demanded. He gave Mills a hard shake, his narrowed gaze promising more if the man didn’t talk. “When is the hit scheduled and where will it take place?”
“Tonight. Don’t know where.”
Shaking off her shock, Sawyer reached for the door. She needed to find Beck—immediately.
“Wait.” Tilly stopped her.
“Beck needs to know what’s going on.”
“I’ll go.” He took a pistol from a holster clipped to the belt of his jeans.
“You carry a gun?”
“Always.”
“Thank God.” If Sawyer weren’t focused on saving her husband, she would have melted with relief.
“Trust me to take care of Beck,” Tilly said as he checked the bullet supply before clicking the magazine into place. He tucked the gun into the holster, grabbed Mills, and left Sawyer in the closet. He kept to the side of the room, moving at a quick pace but not so fast as to draw unwelcome attention.
Sawyer knew Tilly was right. The smart thing would be to stay where she was. She wasn’t armed and didn’t know the first thing about taking down a hitman. Still, waiting and wondering would drive her crazy. She would trust Tilly to save Beck. But she needed to be there.
Clenching her shaky hands into fists, Sawyer followed Tilly. As her mind settled, she looked around, and her stomach did another slow flip.
Beck wasn’t the only one in danger. Instead of the crowd thinning out as people made their way home, everyone moved from the auditorium to the adjacent cafeteria where the PTA had organized after-show refreshments.
The mood was festive, and the concertgoers wanted to keep the feel-good evening going by filling up on cake, punch, and good company
Talia saw Sawyer, waved, and rushed to her side.
“First you take off, then Tilly. What’s going on?”
“Have you seen Beck?”
“A few minutes ago,” Talia said. “He came looking for you.”
Sawyer gripped her friend’s arm.
“What did you say?”
“Gave him the party line. You needed air and pointed him in what I believed to be your general direction.” Talia lay her hand over Sawyer’s, her expression worried. “Did something happen? Is Beck okay?”
“He will be.”
“Will be? As in, not currently? What—”
“Tilly has everything under control.” Sawyer refused to consider the alternative. “I have to go.”
“Not without me.”
“Fine.” No time to argue, Sawyer sighed. “Keep behind me and if I say hit the floor, don’t argue. Hit the damn floor like your life is on the line.”
Sawyer didn’t wait to see if her warning deterred Talia. The exit was a few feet to her left, the same door Tilly dragged Mills through.
“What are the odds I’ll need to duck?” Talia gulped.
“No idea.”
“Okay.”
The exit led to a parking lot filled with cars. To the left, a group of smokers in need of a nicotine fix huddled together under a tree, the tips of eight cigarettes glowing in the night. United by their addiction, they didn’t notice as two women tiptoed by.
“Damn it, Sawyer,” Tilly hissed as she approached. “I told you to stay inside. And you brought Talia?”
“Smart women travel in twos,” her friend quipped.
“Great,” Tilly muttered.
“Forget Talia. Where’s Mills?” Sawyer asked.
“I locked his whining, sniveling ass in the trunk of my car.”
One problem out of the way, Sawyer tugged on Tilly’s sleeve.
“How do you know Beck’s out here?”
“Saw him leave the auditorium. Looking for you, I assume.”
“I—” No point arguing, she reminded herself. “Did you call the police?”
“No. Don’t,” Tilly warned when both Sawyer and Talia raised their phones. “Last thing we need are cops swooping in, sirens blaring. Better everyone goes about their business as usual. Hopefully, we’ll take down the hitman, and no one inside will be the wiser.”
“Hitman? As in that guy?” Talia raised a finger and pointed.
A man dressed in black sprinted from the cover of one car to another. A moonless night, he was barely visible, but thanks to Talia, Tilly had a bead on him. Pulling Sawyer close, he whispered, “Hide behind the biggest truck you can find and don’t move.”
Feeling oddly calm—probably numb—she did as he instructed. Beck was out there, somewhere, and Tilly knew what to do. She hadn’t a clue. Because of her, his life was in danger. She didn’t want to cause any distractions or get in the way.
She crouched behind a massive SUV; Talia did the same. They didn’t have long to wait.
A shot rang out followed by another in quick succession. Wisely, the smokers dropped their cigarettes and hit the ground.
“Behind you, Beck,” Tilly shouted.
Sawyer fell to her knees and began to pray.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
♫~♫~♫
BECK BIDED HIS time until he could escape the hospital emergency room and find Sawyer. The few moments they had together at the high school before she gave her seat in the ambulance to his mother weren’t enough. Since then, his wife seemed to be M.I.A. He needed to see her.
The nurse wasn’t big on cooperation. She was in charge, her rules, her way. Mouthy patients like Beck were ignored or stuck with a needle he swore was meant for an elephant, not a man. To add insult to injury, she didn’t poke him in the arm.
Rubbing his backside, Beck gritted his teeth, forcing himself to smile. Arguing hadn’t worked. Maybe a little charm was the way to Nurse Ratched’s softer side.
“The bullet barely grazed my arm, Nurse Richards,” Beck was careful to use her real name as honey dripped from every word. “What harm could a visit from my wife do?”
“Depends. Was she the one who shot you?”
Beck grinned. Seemed under all the bluster and iron, she had a sense of humor.
“Save the pretty boy smile for someone who cares,” she warned. “Your doctor will be here in a few minutes to examine your wound and look for possible side effects. If everything checks out, he’ll sign your discharge papers, and you’re a free man.”
Instead of the hospital, he would spend the night in his own home, his own bed, with Sawyer in his arms.
“About my wife?”
“She’s in t
he waiting room,” Nurse Richards said.
“What’s she doing?”
“Waiting. Hence the name.” The nurse rolled her eyes. “Sheesh.”
Beck wasn’t worried about Sawyer. Tilly assured him she was safe. And he saw the truth with his own eyes before he was hauled away. An ambulance was unnecessary; he could have walked away on his own.
His mother insisted he needed to see a doctor—tonight. The EMS technicians agreed. Stan Trent, the school superintendent, pushed for a hospital visit, more for liability reasons, Beck suspected, than worry for his health.
Sawyer held his hand until he was lifted into the ambulance. However, she didn’t have a lot to say, a practically unheard-of occurrence.
Knowing she was in the building helped but didn’t stop Beck from wanting her with him. He couldn’t get the image of her face when she saw the blood—his blood—out of his head. He was fine, and she needed to know. Barely a nick, he doubted the minor wound would leave a scar.
A hitman. When he suggested the possibility to Sawyer as they drove away from the Hale mansion less than forty-eight hours earlier, he didn’t think the idea would float. Too many holes.
Beck touched his bandaged arm. The hole almost ended up through his head. If not for Tilly and his highly developed survival instinct, he might be in the morgue, instead of an examining room.
The idea that Mills Hale hired someone to kill him had Beck shaking his head. Not exactly an unbelievable twist in the plot, but one he hadn’t anticipated beyond a bit of mild speculation. The guy gave off a major Peter Lorre vibe, creepy, but more of a follower than a leader.
Which meant chances were better than good, Camille Hale set the ball in motion. A suggestion or a major push, the question was would she hide behind her son and let him take the fall? Beck’s vote would be a great big yes.
For now, the problem belonged to the police. The hitman was in custody and Mills, the spineless wonder, listened to his rights, assured everyone he understood and proceeded to sing like a soon-to-be-minted jailbird.
Beck checked his watch and frowned. Eatonville was a small town with little activity after midnight. How busy could the doctor be at three-fifteen in the morning?
Tired of waiting, Beck checked the hall. Empty. He slipped from his room and went in search of Sawyer. As he approached the waiting area, the sound of someone crying met his ears.
“I should have insisted we annul the marriage,” Sawyer sniffled. “Right away. Before we left Las Vegas.”
Beck, determined to set Sawyer straight, paused when Talia jumped to his defense.
“What about Beck? Doesn’t what he wanted, what he wants now, matter?”
“We both know what he wants,” Sawyer said.
Beck waited, his heart pounding like an out of control jackhammer. He hoped Sawyer understood. Damn it, he wanted her to say the words to him—to his face. But if he stepped in now, she might stop. So, he waited, eavesdropping on a conversation that might determine a new start to their relationship, or signal the end.
“Beck wants a woman who loves him, only him, with all her heart.”
“And?” Talia asked. “I know you care about him.”
“More than I thought possible.” Sawyer let out a shaky breath. “For me, love has always meant David. Not Beck, not anyone else. Tonight, my eyes were opened to the truth.”
Beck backed away. To stay and listen to more would be the same as taking a knife and spilling his guts all over the floor. The woman he loved belonged to another man.
David Hale was a rival he couldn’t fight. Beck suspected as much. However, he let himself believe Sawyer was ready to let go of her first love and embrace someone new.
As a man who always valued the truth, Beck wished he could forget what he heard and pretend when he woke tomorrow, everything would be the same. He didn’t want to give up on Sawyer. But she wasn’t his and never would be.
Beck’s head understood. Now, he had to convince his heart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
♫~♫~♫
BECK LAY IN bed waiting for Sawyer to join him. If he’d expected her to say something on the way home from the hospital, turned out he was wrong. Everything seemed normal as though the conversation she had with Talia never happened.
From the moment the doctor signed the release papers, and she walked into his arms, Beck would have sworn she wanted to be there—to be with him.
Did Sawyer plan to continue as before out of guilt? Did she think a few days or a couple of weeks would make the blow hurt less when she finally walked out of his life? She planned to break his heart. Period. At this point, the when was irrelevant; all that mattered was the why. She didn’t love him.
The possibility existed that she would wait until the terms of David’s will were met. What were a few more months? The money would help a lot of people.
As for Beck? To be fair, she wasn’t aware he already knew how their story would end. Except he didn’t want to be fair. He wanted the truth. Now. Before she crawled into bed and continued the lie.
“What a night.”
Sawyer stood in the doorway and stretched her arms over her head. The light from the bathroom gave Beck the perfect view of her silhouetted figure underneath her nightgown.
But not just any nightgown. For the first time since they first had sex, Sawyer chose to wear the cotton granny gown of his dreams.
Beck stifled a groan. Was she a closet sadist? Or were the fates so against him, they chose tonight of all nights to play out his fantasy?
“Hope you don’t mind about the nightgown.” Sawyer slid under the covers and snuggled close. “I can’t seem to get warm.”
One, two, three. Beck counted, wondering how long he could last with Sawyer so close, her scent filling his senses as the soft cotton gown brushed against his bare skin. Four, five, six. Ten, he told himself, get to ten.
Turned out his hard limit was nine.
“Damn it, Sawyer!”
“I’m sorry.” She sat up; eyes filled with worry. “Did I hurt your arm? Just a scratch? Ha! You took a freaking bullet. I’ll get you an aspirin. Should have filled the pain med prescription before we left the hospital. But no, you wanted to tough out the pain.”
“Sawyer.” Beck stopped her before she jumped out of bed. “Yes, I hurt. But the pain isn’t in my arm.”
“Where? Did you hit your head? A bump?” She ran her fingers under his hair, probing. “What if you have a concussion?”
“Forget my head.” Beck grabbed her hands. “It’s my heart.”
“Chest pains?” She frowned.
“For the love of…” He took a deep breath. “You. Broke. My. Heart.”
“What?” Confusion replaced worry. “I did not.”
“A lie by omission is bad enough.” Beck rolled out of bed and paced. “Don’t lie to my face.”
“What are you talking about? And put something on before you catch cold.”
Beck ignored her plea. He needed a wife, not a mother hen.
“I heard what you said to Talia.”
“When?”
“Tonight. At the hospital.” He stopped, waiting for another denial. Or the truth. Beck didn’t know which he dreaded more.
“You eavesdropped.” Sawyer shook her head. “Never a good idea.”
“How else was I supposed to figure out how you felt? All the time we’ve been together, you never told me.”
“Same could be said for you.”
“Until at the concert. I feel like a prize jackass.” Beck winced when he remembered. “In front of everyone, I said I love you with a sappy song.”
“A beautiful song,” Sawyer argued.
“You want to stick out the marriage, inherit the money? Then boom. Kick me in the balls and be on your merry way.”
Sawyer flopped onto her back with a frustrated growl.
“You’re a fool.”
“For me, love has always meant David,” he
quoted her, every word burned into his brain. “Not Beck, not anyone else. Tonight, my eyes were opened to the truth.”
“Very good,” Sawyer said. “Trouble with listening to a private conversation? If you don’t stick around until the end, you deserve a swift kick in the balls.”
“I heard enough.”
“Tonight, my eyes were opened to the truth,” she began.
“Don’t,” Beck said.
Sawyer sat on the edge of the bed. She took his hand and looked into his eyes.
“David was my first love. A sweet memory I will always hold dear. And you? My stubborn, eavesdropping, wonderful husband. You can’t be my first love.” She kissed his palm. “Will you be my last?”
“You love me?” Beck, so certain he’d lost her, couldn’t believe his ears. “Me. Beck Kramer.”
“You, Beck Kramer. Now, today, always.” Sawyer scrambled to her knees. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she found the perfect spot to rest her head. “Thump, thump, thump. Such a beautiful sound. You bared your heart in a song. Mine almost stopped when I thought I’d lost you.
“I love you.” Beck kissed her. “So damn much.”
Sawyer laughed as he pushed her back onto the bed. Beck took his place at her side, peeling back the high collar covering her neck and nuzzled her ear.
“Want to hear a secret?” he whispered.
“Tell me.”
“The night we got married? I wasn’t as drunk as you believed.” Grinning at her shocked expression, Beck lifted the nightgown, inch by inch, up her legs.
“You were sober?”
“No. But I knew what I was doing.”
Sawyer gasped with pleasure as his fingers delved further under the gown. When she tried to remove the garment, he stopped her.
“Later,” Beck said.
“Okay.” She cupped the back of his neck as her lips brushed against his. “You wanted to marry me?”
“Seemed like a good idea at the time.” Beck gazed deep into Sawyer’s hazel eyes and saw love looking back. “I was right.”
ALMOST BLUE Page 21
