She was so proud of what Brynna had done.
Melody was going to use every resource she had from her days with the Texas State Police to find the bastards and make them regret ever looking at her sister as collateral damage in whatever war they had with the TSP, and the Marshall family.
She may be worthless in a physical fight these days, thanks to a bullet, but she still had what lay between her ears.
She unlocked the door and stepped inside the foyer of the house where she’d lived most of her life—she’d had an apartment near the campus where she’d gotten her degree but had returned home to help when her mother was ill—and tossed her keys to the table next to the door.
She was on cooking duty for the foreseeable future. And that meant she’d make the best damned dinner for the people that lived there with her that she could. Jillian and Sydney, her two youngest sisters, would be home within the two hours. Their father would probably stay with Brynna as long as he could.
The sister closest in age to Melody hated hospitals—they were a sensory nightmare for a woman on the autistic spectrum like Brynna was.
Possible complications of being sliced open with a penknife demanded Brynna stay where she could be monitored. They all understood that. No matter how Brynna didn’t like it.
But her sister hadn’t been fighting the hospital when Melody had left; she’d been lying there. Bereft over a wild renegade of a man who would never be the kind to settle in one place, no matter what a woman like Brynna could promise him.
Melody didn’t doubt the depth of her sister’s feelings for Chance. Brynna felt deeply—she just had trouble showing that, at times.
Worst part of it was, she was certain the man in question loved her sister just as much as Brynna loved him.
But he had still walked away.
What would that do to a woman like Brynna?
Melody was afraid she already knew the answer to that. Devastation. Chance Marshall had broken her sister into a million little pieces. And Melody didn’t know how to fix her.
She didn’t know how long she stood by the stove, thinking. Worrying.
Hard hands went around her waist and covered her mouth. The intruder yanked her back against a hard, strong chest. Mel tried to pull in a breath, but couldn’t. “If you scream, I may hurt you. Do you understand what I am saying?”
She nodded and ruthlessly shoved back the panic. She had to keep a clear head.
The hand around her mouth slipped down to grip her waist. Mel looked down. Saw the gun. What did he want? Who was he?
The only weapon she had was her forearm crutch, if she could bring it up between them…And there were knives in the block five feet away. If she could get to one of them...
Who was she kidding? She could barely walk, let alone defend.
In the current physical state she was in, she was no match for an armed attacker. No matter what it was he wanted. “What do you want?” She kept her voice from trembling somehow.
“Turn around. We’re going to make this as easy as possible.” He slipped back a half a foot or so and then the gun was away from her side. Somehow.
“M-make what?” Where was the strength and calm that had been drilled into her at the Academy and in her days with the TSP?
“We need to talk, you and I.” His hands scorched her even through her clothing when he turned her around more quickly than she could handle. She lost her balance and fell against him. He straightened her quickly.
“Hold out your arms.” Mel looked up—a long way—up into the intruder’s face.
“What are you doing here?” It was a beautiful face, one designed to stay in a woman’s mind long after she’d seen it. She should know—she still dreamt of it at night.
Houghton McKinley Barratt, heir to the Barratt-Handley fortune. Son of the man responsible for the kidnapping and near murder of her sister. Brynna, who had hurt no one in her entirely life.
Houghton Barratt, the last man Melody had slept with before a bullet had changed her life forever. It had only been one night, but…
She struggled in his arms, trying to push his hands away from her, as some of the fear left her. Some. He still had a gun, after all. And he was still a Barratt. “Let me go, Houghton, and I won’t call the police.”
“Of course you will, little one. Do you think I don’t know about your family now? Your ties to law enforcement?” His dark eyes were cynical and hard. Cold. Nothing at all resembled the hungry lover who’d made her forget one of the worst murder investigations of her career. He slipped the gun into the holster he had in his pocket. “Hold out your hands.”
“Rot in hell, Barratt.” She lunged for him. She knew he was quick—and probably had two bodyguards waiting outside. Surprise was all she had on her side.
It didn’t do a damned bit of good. Her attack didn’t even budge him an inch. Houghton was six and a half foot tall and in excellent physical shape.
Houghton caught her up and carried her into the dining room, completely ignoring how she twisted and bucked. He dumped her back on the dining room table where half her sister’s science project was still laid out. “Had to make it difficult, didn’t you?”
She wanted to scream at him, to curse him, but she couldn’t. The air had left her lung-and-a-half when he’d dropped her against the tabletop.
Not that it took much to do that to her these days. A bullet through a lung left its mark for a long time, didn’t it?
“I don’t want to hurt you, Mel. But you’re going to do what I say.” He grabbed the hand she tried to punch him with and held it flush against the table. Then the other one. “I need your help, and you owe me for just walking away that morning.”
He pulled her wrists together in front, then wrapped them quickly with duct tape.
It had little yellow ducks on it. That stuck out with her. Yellow ducks, of all things.
His eyes were dark and cold, missing the warmth that had been there before. Her fear rushed back, doubled. “What are you going to do with me?”
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE.
CHAPTER TWO.
CHAPTER THREE.
CHAPTER FOUR.
CHAPTER FIVE.
CHAPTER SIX.
CHAPTER SEVEN.
CHAPTER EIGHT.
CHAPTER NINE.
CHAPTER TEN.
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
CHAPTER TWELVE.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
CHAPTER TWENTY.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE.
CAPTER THIRTY.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE.
CHAPTER FORTY.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE.
CHAPTER FIFTY.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE.
&
nbsp; CHAPTER SIXTY.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO.
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT.
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE.
CHAPTER SEVENTY.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE.
Her Best Friend's Keeper (Finley Creek Book 1) Page 28
