Slow Burn: A Texas Heat Novel

by McKenzie, Octavia

  “What is it miss?” the maid asked.

  “Imogen, I need you to do something for me, it’s of the utmost importance.”

  “Yes, anything.”

  “Follow that couple, be discreet, I want an address.”

  “Yes miss.”

  Chapter 15

  Donavan was a mean drunk. He said cutting, awful things to anyone stupid enough to come near him. The scalding liquid burn obliterated thoughts of her. She haunted him with her frigging beauty and wit. Now Harper gave her exquisite body and her heart to someone else.

  “All my fault,” he muttered.

  The images of his dad and Mrs. Gilbert swam before him. The woman who became more than a housekeeper to him and a second mother, wept by the doorway. Her red rimmed eyes, pale face and quivering chin went in and out of focus. Allister knelt beside him, shockingly sober. His father tried to take the bottle.

  “Get your own!” Donavan growled in his father’s face. Allister flinched. His blond silver hair stood on end as if he’d been pulling it. His blue eyes, identical to his son’s were piercingly intense.

  “Son, please give me the bottle.”

  Donavan glared at Allister blurry eyed.

  “Why don’t you join me?” he said, “We can bond, see who can puke their guts out first.”

  Mrs. Gilbert sobbed. “Whatta matter Mrs. G? Why you cry?”

  “Donavan Ethan McClain give me the damn bottle.”

  Why the hostile tone? “All right already, no need to shout.”

  Donavan handed the bottle to him. Allister gave it to Mrs. Gilbert who held it away from her like an armed grenade. She left to confiscate it.

  “Oh Jesus,” Allister said, “What have I done?”

  Donavan leaned his head back. He sat on the greenhouse floor. His face ruddy with intoxication. Watery blue eyes blinked hard. Allister’s grief stricken face hovered at the edges of consciousness.

  “You are the best man I know,” Allister said tenderly, “You’re better than this, stronger than me, son, whatever it is, you need to fight.”

  “I hurt her, hurt her so much and now-”

  “Who?” Allister asked urgently.

  “Harper.”

  His father’s eyebrows snapped together. “The little girl you argue with?”

  In Allister’s drunken stupor he missed a few years.

  “She’s freaking huge,” Donavan said. “Tall, curvy, pretty girl.”

  Realization dawned. Allister’s harsh expression softened. “Oh my boy, you love her.”

  Donavan laughed mirthlessly. “It doesn’t matter, I lost her.”

  “So you’re going to give up, just like that?”

  “Yep, she moved on.”

  “Do you know that for sure?”

  Donavan blinked. Something in his mind clicked. Harper never texted him. If I have something to say to you Thor, I’ll call you, rip you through the phone or yell in your face, take your pick.

  Donavan tried to get up but fell on his ass. Three bottles of brandy will do that to a grown man, especially one not used to drinking.

  “I’ll help you up.” Allister pulled him to his feet.

  Donavan stumbled. The room swayed. “Mrs. Gilbert!” Allister yelled. She came running. “Get our boy a pot of coffee.”

  “Yes, right away.” She dashed off. Allister helped his son up the stairs. He turned on the shower. “I’ll be right outside the door.”

  Donavan took a cold shower and got dressed. He still had trouble with quick movements but after a pot of strong coffee, a vile tomato concoction of Mrs. G’s and a plate of food, he sobered up. Son whatever it is, you need to fight. Damn straight! Donavan rapidly explained the situation and picked up the phone.

  Carl and Lindsey Grant stood bleary eyed in robes and bare feet. “It’s four in the morning,” Carl groused. “What in the world?”

  Donavan entered the foyer. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the framed pictures of Harper in family photos mounted on the walls.

  Lindsey frowned. “What is it? Is Harper all right?” she asked, alarmed.

  “I don’t know,” he said honestly.

  Carl’s face went ashen. “What do you mean?”

  “Did she call you or text you about her trip abroad?” Donavan asked.

  Carl looked baffled. “Harper left a voice message, right hon?”

  “Yes,” Lindsey said. She finger combed her brown hair. “I thought it was weird, just out of the blue, you know?”

  “May I hear the message?”

  The odd request didn’t faze the couple. Lindsey went for her cell phone. Carl and Donavan exchanged a pointed look, man to man.

  “You’re going to bring our girl home,” Carl said.

  “If she’ll have me,” Donavan said gruffly.

  Carl’s lips quirked. “Oh, I have feeling she’ll have you.”

  Lindsey came down the stairs. She pressed buttons on the phone before handing it over.

  The sound of Harper’s voice sent a tremor right through him.

  “Hi mama, daddy, I’m going on a trip overseas with some friends, I’ll be back in a couple of weeks. Sorry I didn’t tell you about this earlier, I-I love you both very much, bye.”

  Donavan listened to the message again. There! “You hear the rasp in her voice?”

  The Grants shook their heads. Donavan put the message on speaker. Harper’s voice broke into a deep rasp when she told her parents she loved them.

  “Oh,” Lindsey said. “That sound she makes in her throat.”

  “When she’s afraid,” Donavan said.

  Lindsey held her husband’s hand. “Carl,” she whispered. She visibly shook with a mother’s fear.

  “What are you thinking?” Carl asked, his voice unsteady.

  “Where’s her biological father?”

  Lindsey gasped. Carl stiffened. “H-He’s a convicted felon serving a forty year sentence.”

  “What prison?”

  “Fort Douglas Maximum Security.”

  Donavan was on the phone with the Department of Corrections. He gave his badge number and waited.

  “Let’s see,” the officer said, “Colt Billings was granted parole two months ago.”

  Donavan’s jaw clenched. He hung up. “He’s out, early release.”

  “What?” Lindsey gripped the stair rail and sat down hard as if she’d collapse. Carl tried to hold it together. Tears filled his eyes.

  “Oh God.” The older man doubled over. He gripped his knees with both hands. “My little girl,” he choked.

  Donavan couldn’t be the man deeply in love with Harper right now. He had to be police officer McClain to distance himself. He scanned Colt Billings rap sheet online. Five counts of aggravated child abuse, theft, assault, money laundering and attempted murder. If Donavan allowed himself to feel he would implode.

  He had the bastard’s mug shot. It took an hour for Donavan to track Colt Billings to a roach motel on the edge of town and to have his partner in custody. The other man claimed he knew nothing until he faced Donavan in the interrogation room. He took one look at that lethal face and spilled his guts. He had orders to hurt The Grants, Emerson, Sawyer and Donavan himself if Colt didn’t receive Harper’s trust fund in full.

  A tick leaped in Donavan’s jaw. His icy blue gaze lanced the other man until he gulped.

  “Where are they?”

  “Somewhere in the UK, he never told me exactly where, please don’t kill me.”

  Donavan consulted the only two men he trusted to find Harper off the record. With grim intent, he met with the Sheriff and his cousin, ex-Navy Seal, Seth McClain.

  “Anything from the partner’s cell phone?” Donavan asked.

  “It’s a burner,” the Sheriff said.

  “I figured as much.”

  “Follow the money,” Seth said. “My guess is they’d have to be close to one of the major cities to have access to the funds.”
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  “I’ll get the name of the banks from The Grants,” The Sheriff said.

  Donavan nodded curtly.

  “I’ll call in a favor at Homeland Security,” Seth said, “They had to have flown out of Austin, Dallas or Houston.”

  Donavan’s jaw set rigidly. His hands opened and closed into fists.

  “Hey!” Seth said. He clasped Donavan’s shoulder. “We’re gonna find her.”

  Two hours later the trio studied surveillance footage from the TSA security checkpoint in Austin. In the grainy black and white image, Harper wore a hoodie and jeans. Donavan swallowed hard. He tore his eyes away. The thought of that evil son of a bitch anywhere near her…

  “They took a direct flight to Heathrow,” the Sheriff said.

  “London,” Donavan muttered.

  The Grants placed her trust in four separate banks. Harper withdrew fifty grand from a bank in Knightsbridge, seventy-five grand from another bank in Crystal Palace. Donavan looked up a map of London online. The banks had multiple branches throughout the city center and the surrounding boroughs. It would take precious time they didn’t have to consult with local authorities. Like looking for a needle in a haystack.

  Donavan thought he was going to lose his mind. In the airport surveillance video, she looked smaller than in life. Her shoulders were hunched, body curled in as if she wanted to disappear. Her face, averted from the camera, had a drawn, wan appearance. The man beside her was whipcord lean, just a few inches taller than her. Colt Billings had a rugged, handsome face but a hardness around the lips betrayed the predator within.

  Donavan lowered his head. He made the sound of a wounded animal. Seth mumbled something to the Sheriff. The older man stepped out for a moment. Seth clasped a hand on Donavan’s shoulder. “We’re gonna find her cuz.”

  “Have you read his file?” Donavan asked hoarsely.

  “No,” Seth said.

  “He took a thin extension cord, soaked it in water and whipped her with it, when she was five.”

  “Jesus,” Seth grunted.

  “He did that to my girl,” Donavan whispered in anguish. “She must’ve been so damn scared to see him again and I wasn’t there. She needed me and I wasn’t fucking there.”

  “Listen to me, we’re going to London, we’re gonna find her and we’ll bury him, you hear me?”

  Donavan wanted so badly to believe him. A knock sounded on the door. A clerk peaked in.

  “Officer McClain, there’s a call for you on line one.”

  “We’re not to be disturbed,” Seth said impatiently.

  “She said it was really important.”

  “Who?”

  “Your mother.”

  The air in the office dropped by fifty degrees. Donavan’s eyes narrowed. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”

  “No sir.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, my mother is dead.”

  “She said you’d say that but it’s an emergency.”

  The clerk shrugged her shoulders as if to say, suit yourself. She left with the fallout from her words lingering in the room.

  “You don’t have to talk to her,” Seth said protectively. The whole family hated Cynthia McClain for her desertion.

  Donavan grabbed the phone. “You have thirty seconds,” he snarled. His heart pounded. After all these years without a phone call, a single letter, let alone a visit, he wanted no part of her.

  “Donavan,” she gasped, “I’m sorry to bother-”

  “If you’re dying, I don’t give a shit, what the hell do you want?”

  “Harper Grant came to visit me.”

  Donavan’s swift intake of breath alerted Seth. “When?”

  “Earlier today, she came to berate me for…for leaving you.”

  Trust his beautiful girl to do that. Cynthia cleared her throat. “She’s in trouble, when she left there was a man waiting for her outside my gate, he, he dug his fingernails in her neck.”

  Donavan raked his hair with a hand that shook. “Oh God.” He wanted to ram his fist through the wall.

  “I had my maid follow them,” Cynthia spoke quickly. “I have an address. They’re at a flat in Croydon.”

  Donavan wrote it down. “I’ll take it from here,” he said. He hesitated before muttering, “Thank you.”

  Chapter 16

  Ten hours later, Donavan and Seth swept the apartment perimeter for entrance and exit points. They stood in the shadows of an old church archway. They couldn’t alert local law enforcement for back up. Police officers in the United Kingdom didn’t carry guns which boggled Donavan’s mind. No wonder their knife crime rate was so high. The criminals were better armed.

  Colt held his daughter on the sixth floor, corner flat. From the wet pavement, Donavan noted the balcony was dark. A light shone from the second window.

  “You extricate her,” Seth said, “I’ll handle psycho dad.”

  Donavan glared at his cousin. “He’s a dead man – my kill.”

  “You’re gonna marry this girl, correct?”

  God, he hoped so. Donavan nodded.

  “You can’t have her father’s blood on your hands.”

  Donavan wanted to protest but there was no time. Every second with that monster put Harper at risk. They entered the apartment building, Donavan from the rear, Seth from the front. They swiftly took the stairs two at a time. Flat 6C was on the north east corner of the building. Seth knew how to deftly open locks soundlessly. He was part of rescue operations in the Middle East for American hostages.

  The door clicked open within seconds. A TV blared from a bedroom, the show EastEnders. Seth held up a fist. He cocked his head, pointed to the bathroom. A bar of light shone under the door. They crept down the hall. Donavan’s heart thundered. Please be okay, please be okay.

  Colt Billings had just taken a shower. Hot mist swirled from floor to ceiling. Seth had him face down on the toilet bowl before he could draw his next breath.

  “If you make a sound or move an inch, I will slit your throat, are we clear?” Seth rasped.

  Colt nodded vigorously.

  “Where’s the girl?”

  “Out-Out there.”

  Donavan’s blue eyes narrowed to slits. Colt glanced at him and pissed himself.

  “Balcony,” Colt whimpered.

  Not so tough now against men his own size. Donavan’s hands itched to strangle him. Then the other man’s words penetrated his skull. Harper’s on the balcony. Donavan’s heart slammed into his ribs. He ran down the hall. The small living room and kitchenette were cast in shadows. Fear slammed his brain like a sledgehammer. What if she’s dead? What if she’s alive but irrevocably broken? What if she doesn’t want me?

  Donavan braced himself. What if-

  He opened the sliding glass door.

  Chapter 17

  Harper shrank back as the door opened. Her biological locked her out of the apartment as punishment for not only going to see Donavan’s mother but refusing to answer any questions about her or why Harper paid the visit. So Colt locked her out on the balcony without food or water. Icy rain blew against her face. He forcibly removed her hoodie. She wore a thin tee shirt and jeans. It had to be thirty degrees, near freezing.

  Harper rubbed the goosebumps from her arms. She wouldn’t give the bastard the satisfaction of hearing her teeth chatter. She set her jaw stubbornly. She wiped the raindrops from her eyes. He should have the rest of the money by week’s end. She knew he had a cell phone to communicate with his partner in Aberdeen. When this was all over, when Colt Billings had his money and his partner left town as promised, Harper decided to end this once and for all.

  What’s to stop Colt from reappearing in a few years to make the same demands? She’d spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder. How could she marry and have kids knowing he was out there just waiting to pounce? She wasn’t the same helpless kid who couldn’t fight back. Harper made up her mind to kill Colt or die trying. When
Donavan stepped onto the balcony she blinked hard. Hallucination? Was she losing her mind?

  She shivered in the corner, staring at him. Please be real, please be real. His blue eyes were fierce, wild, as he looked at her.

  “Oh my sweet baby,” he whispered. She flew into his arms. Donavan’s hands clamped around her. They both shuddered. Oh to be in the shelter of his arms! He was her safe place, her family, her home.

  “You’re okay,” he said.

  Harper squeezed her eyes shut. Don’t let go. Don’t ever let me go, she prayed.

  Donavan stroked her sodden, limp hair. “God, you’re freezing.” Then realization dawned. “He locked you out here in this weather.”

  Her stomach growled loudly. “No food,” he muttered. When he rubbed her arms to warm her skin, Harper winced.

  Donavan’s choked breath blew out in cold smoke through the flaring of his nostrils. He held her arms out. Six cigarette burns in various stages of healing. Donavan pulled her inside. He whipped off his jacket and wrapped her in it. Without a word, he stalked down the hall.

  Cold fury swept through him. His blood boiled and roared through his pounding veins. He reached the bathroom doorway. Seth took one look at his cousin and muttered, “Oh shit!”

  Donavan picked Colt Billings up by the throat and slammed him against the wall. The other man turned a shade of purple. He wheezed, his legs flayed in midair. Donavan’s fingers tightened on Colt’s windpipe.

  “How could you do that to her?” he hissed. “How?” he roared.

  Colt’s eyes bulged in fear.

  “Don,” Seth said, “Drop him.”

  Donavan growled between his teeth. He wanted the other man’s blood, make him suffer. Then Harper whispered his name. Donavan’s head whipped around. She stood in the doorway. Her face pale, lips blue, her green eyes over bright with unshed tears.

  “I need you,” she said.

  Donavan dropped Colt like a rag doll. The older man crumpled to the bathroom tile. He coughed and gagged. Donavan stepped over him to get to Harper. He lifted her and cradled her like a baby, as if she weighed nothing.