by Docter, K. L
He tried to tell himself it was because he didn’t want her sidetracked from the Southgate project. But, the truth is it was Colbert setting his personal sights on Rachel that bothered Patrick most. The real estate agent was rich, powerful and, according to Jane, “Sin, walking on two legs.” His office manager practically drooled every time the man called.
Jealousy reared its ugly head, and he didn’t like it. Making love to Rachel was a monumental mistake…and inevitable. Her gorgeous brown eyes had sucked him in the first day they met. Her sultry, Southern voice and scent had woven through his senses for days, her smiles become as crucial to him as the blood in his veins. And the woman had walked away from their one heat-filled night together without a backward glance. Since breakfast yesterday, it appeared Southgate was the only connection left between them.
His hand tight around his radio, he ordered Rachel to come to him. She tried to explain she was in the middle of something. He simply turned off his radio. Ten minutes later, she stomped off the elevator across the bare floorboards to his side, her daytime bodyguard, Carl Sprang, trailing behind her. “You called,” she said in a calm voice that belied the fire in her doe brown eyes.
Sorry for allowing his jealousy to dig a deeper chasm between them, he forced a casual tone into his voice. “Just had a visit from Grant Colbert. He said you’re going out to his place to check on his landscaping requirements. I thought you’d planned to be here this week to facilitate this project.”
Taking off her hard hat to wipe sweat off her brow before putting it back on absently, she frowned. “I told him I was too busy to accommodate his time frame, but that I’d take a look at his property to see what it would entail…when I got the chance. I didn’t make any promises.”
“Good.” Patrick was more relieved she wasn’t set on working with the man than he was about ensuring Southgate met the launch deadline next month. Not good. “You’ll want to get on top of the job here so you can leave once they get your ex behind bars.”
Her lips pursed. “In a hurry to get rid of me?”
“Of course not. I only meant—”
Aware the bodyguard was watching their exchange with too much interest, Patrick nodded toward the elevator. “Wait downstairs, Sprang. Rachel’s safe with me here and this conversation is private. I’ll escort her down when we’re finished.”
The man looked questioningly at Rachel, not moving toward the elevator until she nodded, which cranked up Patrick’s tension another notch.
Once Sprang was gone, he caught Rachel’s hand and pulled her around the closest finished wall. Then, he confronted the one topic that had been gnawing on him since he woke up to find Rachel gone from his bed. “Rach,” he said in a low voice. “We have to talk about the night the folks came home.”
For a long moment, he saw a different kind of fire build in her eyes. She licked her lips, like she could still feel him there, nibbling on her mouth, feasting on her. Her pulse quickened under his fingers. The memory of her taste, the heat radiating off her lilac scented skin, so close, yet so far, made him want to take her again. Right here.
With a gasp for whatever she could see on his face, she tugged her hand away and bumped into the drywall behind her. “There’s nothing to say.”
He could think of a thing or two. “Come back to my bed,” for starters. Followed by, “Don’t go back to Dallas. Let me take care of you and Amanda. “That’s it? I know I made a mistake when I made love to you but—”
“What do you want from me, Patrick?” she interrupted, pain in her eyes. “I-I can’t work with you, if, if…I’m leaving as soon as Amanda’s safe from her father,” she finished in a rush. “Please don’t make this any harder for me.”
He reminded himself he hadn’t wanted to get involved with Rachel from the start; he didn’t do broken women any more. Looking into her eyes, that vow sounded hollow. He wanted Rachel, baggage and all. He wanted to protect her from Greg, from everything that hurt her or Amanda.
Like you wanted to protect Karly? Your baby? “I need you at Southgate, Rachel. That’s all.” The lie almost choked him.
“Patrick, I can’t get into the—” His lead HVAC man came to a dead stop as Patrick glared at him. “Excuse me. I’ll just—”
“What, Knowles?” Patrick said before the crewman could turn on his heel and walk back around the wall.
The man grimaced. “I’m not sure how it happened, but I got locked out of the maintenance room at the other end of the building. If I can get back in there, I’ll finish up this floor today.”
“I’ll let you get back to work, Patrick.” Rachel tried to walk around him.
He frowned. He wasn’t sure what there was left to say but he wasn’t finished with this conversation. “Wait here,” he ordered. “I’ll go unlock the door and—”
She flashed a quick smile at his crewman. “I can come back later.”
Patrick refused to step aside so she was forced to acknowledge his presence. “Rach, I sent Sprang downstairs, remember? I’ll take you back to him. Wait here. Or wait by the elevator. Don’t go anywhere by yourself.”
Her lips firmed over what he suspected was another argument, but then she nodded. “Fine.”
Assured she wasn’t going to bolt the moment his back was turned, Patrick walked off with his crew member.
~~~
Two Weeks….
Three Days….
Eight Hours….
…’Til death.
Leaning into a two-by-four stud in the shadow of a wall where the arguing couple couldn’t see him watch their exchange, Robby almost laughed out loud. The irritation on the James woman’s face when she turned her back on Thorne was gratifying. Robby was too far away to hear what they were talking about before the crewman interrupted them. Whatever it was, Patrick’s tension, his sexual frustration when this woman was within range, was almost palpable.
It was the first thing about this disastrous morning that gave him any real pleasure. If he couldn’t tear another strip from the contractor’s hide, at least someone else could. Too much was going Patrick’s way. Robby wanted him destroyed, emotionally and physically, before he killed the man…which is why Rachel James had risen to the top of his list of ways-and-means to that destruction. He just hadn’t figured out how to use her to hurt Patrick most.
His own plans had ground to a standstill. He’d been trying since his arrival this morning to set up his next punishment, yet he either ran into a super-vigilant crew member or the wandering security guard was interrogating him. Security was only supposed to be on site after the crews left. Since the James woman was running all over Southgate saving Patrick’s ass, an extra guard had been added to the day shift, too.
These security measures were killing him. But they were nothing to what his Angel had put him through these past four days since he’d snatched her from the life she’d made for herself away from him. At the thought of her hidden away in their secret place waiting for his return, he grew lightheaded. A mixture of elation, frustration…rage…tore through him.
She was the one—despite what the monster whispered in his ear—so why did she continue to deny him? All she had to do was admit her love for him. He’d give her the world, as he’d always done.
He’d known since he was thirteen years old Heaven was a place he’d never enter. Not after the things the monster had done. Things he’d done for her. Always for her. He’d been battling the darkness forever for his Angel. Every time the monster won, he lost himself so deep in the bowels of his own personal Hell he barely escaped. He was afraid he couldn’t do it again. He’d grown weaker with each descent, while the darkness grew stronger. He had to win this time. Win, or die.
“Last chance. Last chance. Last cha—”
He winced. Since leaving his Angel behind last night, his anxiety had become a living thing feeding on his insides. Eating at his control. Threatening to expose his blackened soul for everyone to see.
“Last chance.”
Robb
y kicked the wall base plate with his right foot hard enough to silence the taunting monster. Waiting for the exquisite pain to ease, he cocked his head to listen to a couple of the crew exchange a crude joke as they hung drywall over the naked studs down the hall, the sound of screws tightening into wood studs, a radio announcer promising the next caller a pair of Red Rocks concert tickets.
The DJ followed up with a news report. “The police are still looking for the young coed taken….”
Last chance.
The myriad of construction noises drifting up and down the floor faded from his consciousness. He’d lost his window of opportunity to attack Patrick’s precious business today. There were too many workmen crawling all over the five story building and someone was bound to question why he was hanging around here when he was supposed to be elsewhere.
The encroaching darkness wouldn’t let him leave though. He had to hurt Thorne. Now. It was an ever-present knot burning a hole inside him that demanded results, and the clock was ticking. He looked down at the folded paper clutched in his gloved hand, then stared at the wall the James woman had gone around a minute earlier.
The killer inside him smiled. Ohhhh, even better. This will be fun!
~~~
Listening to the rat-tat-tat of hammers and nail guns through the half empty shell of the apartment building, Rachel paced the floor in front of the elevator shaft while she waited for Patrick. She was so angry with the man all she wanted to do was run back outside into the fresh air. She needed sunshine, to dig in the dirt alongside her crew, to push the pain of Patrick’s rejection away.
It hurt that he only wanted her to finish up her job at Southgate and get out of his life. Oh, he didn’t say it quite that way, but she knew it was what he’d meant. The man might still want her in his bed—there was too much heat and intensity in his eyes for him to deny he was attracted to her—just not enough to ask her to stick around any longer than necessary. She was still a problem in his life, one he hadn’t wanted. She’d dragged him into her mess when she claimed him as her boyfriend in front of Greg. It was her own fault she was hurting.
She should be happy she’d had one night with Patrick, that she’d experienced true passion, without relinquishing herself to yet another man. Yet, she wanted more.
Heat raced through her at the memory of his big, calloused hands molding her curves, the feel of his skin brushing over hers, his hard length slipping inside her softness. She’d felt both swept away and protected by his willingness to let her take control, to find the passion she’d buried deep inside her, to explore her desire over and over.
Realizing she was panting, as much by the lust-filled memories as the furious speed she was pacing the floor, she stopped. “This is nuts,” she whispered. “Stop longing for a man you can’t have. It’s over!”
After a quick look around to make sure no one heard her talking to herself, she frowned. Where was everyone? She could hear the noise of the crew and subcontractors working this half-finished floor of apartments, but she suddenly felt very much alone standing in front of the elevator shaft.
How long had she been tearing her heart out while she waited for Patrick to escort her down three floors? She understood why he didn’t want her to go anywhere by herself, but this was ridiculous. With the security he had in place, Greg couldn’t get this deep into the site without being challenged by someone.
She had things to do, and they didn’t include agonizing over her stupidity in falling for Patrick Thorne. She’d left her crew unloading the nursery delivery truck without supervision when Patrick ordered her presence like she was some sort of…employee. Which, she grimaced, is what she was to him. An employee.
It was time to get back to work. Peering down the open shaft, she could see the top of the elevator cage resting one floor below her. Her bodyguard was waiting on the first floor below that. It wasn’t necessary for Patrick to escort her into the elevator, just to pass her on to Carl when it got to the bottom. The only thing that stopped her from pushing the call button was her promise to wait for Patri—
The hard punch between her shoulder blades caught her by surprise. One second, she was craning over the security bar. The next, her middle crashed into it and she flew head first into empty space.
Her screech of terror filled the shaft. For a precious moment, her arms flailed. Desperately, she reached for one of the metal support braces that crisscrossed the opposite wall. The fingernails on her right hand scraped over one slim ledge, slid off. She screamed again when her left hand managed to catch on another metal piece and she slammed into the wall.
Pain ripped through her fingers, arm and shoulder, loosened her grip. She scraped down the angled brace until her hand caught in the vee at the bottom. With a grunt, she threw her right hand around the opposite ledge, the sharp angles biting into her palm. Her feet dangling eight feet above the elevator cage, she screamed again. “Patrick! Help!”
“What the—” a deep male voice shouted. “Hang on, Rachel!”
Unable to look over her shoulder to identify the crewman behind her, Rachel prayed for strength. Her fingers cramped, yet she didn’t dare reposition her hands. The muscles in her shoulders burned like a thousand fire ants burrowed under her skin.
“Rachel!”
The harsh voice behind her added to her rising panic. “Patrick! I’m,” she swallowed, “slipping!”
Patrick’s heart stopped when Rachel’s fingers shifted on one of the angle iron cross braces that had stopped her fall down the shaft. If she lost her grip and fell to the metal cage below her, she would be badly injured, if not outright killed. He watched with horror as her hard hat fell off her head and crashed to the cage below. “Hang on, sweetheart!”
Ramming the security bar up out of the way, he lay down on his stomach. Then, he leaned out over the edge of the shaft and tried to snag her by the back of her jeans. She dangled two feet beyond his fingertips.
“Push the elevator button,” a crewman suggested.
“No! Don’t touch it,” he shot over his shoulder. “If you call the elevator, she’ll end up above us, if she doesn’t get crushed between the cage and the wall as it rises.”
Rachel groaned. A shudder wracked her slender frame, her knuckles white around her precarious hold. They were running out of time.
Think, damn it, think. “Don’t let go!”
“H-hurry.” Her voice shook with strain.
Adrenaline kicked Patrick’s brain into high gear. He barked orders to the crew around him. “John, grab three of those four-by-fours,” he pointed his foreman to a pallet of wood eight feet away. “Cope, Martinez, find rope or something to tie around my waist.”
It seemed to take forever, but he soon had an extension cord wrapped around his middle. The instant John secured the four-by-fours across the shaft, the ends jammed into cross braces above Rachel’s head, Patrick crawled on his hands and knees across the makeshift bridge. The cord around his waist tightened once when the two crewmen holding the other end didn’t let it out fast enough.
Then, he looked down into terrified, brown eyes. “I’m here, Rachel,” he said firmly to quell her distress as much as his own. Jockeying himself into position above her, he straddled the boards and reached down to wrap his hand around her right forearm just below her elbow. “You can let go now.”
“I-I can’t!”
“Yes, you can,” he said. “One hand at a time.” He gently squeezed her arm. “This one first. I’ll catch you.”
“I—”
“Trust me, Rachel. I won’t let you fall.”
Her eyes wide, she jerked a nod. It seemed to take an eternity before her grip loosened on the angle iron. Patrick took her weight with a grunt. He knew he was bruising her forearm, but he tightened his grip and lifted her toward him until her left hand came off the ledge, too. She dangled below him on one arm and he thought he might lose his grip when his bullet wound twinged a reminder he wasn’t yet healed. But then, she swung her free hand up, grabbed h
is other hand and he hefted her into his arms with one massive jerk to the collective gasps of his crewmen.
His heart raced as he held her. With Rachel out of immediate danger, all he wanted to do was hold her tight and never let go. “You’re safe. You’re safe,” he whispered repeatedly into her hair. He looked into her eyes and, still shaken, quipped, “You couldn’t wait for me five minutes?”
She smiled crookedly and dove back into his arms. “I’m sorry,” she said into the crook of his neck.
When a tear rolled over his skin, he closed his eyes and cuddled her. Then he glanced over her shoulder at his foreman, bracing one of his massive legs on the four-by-four bridge with another large crewman at his back. “Ready?” John mouthed.
Patrick nodded before he reluctantly lifted Rachel away. “Honey, we’re not out of the woods yet.” He began to remove the cord at his waist to wrap it around her. “Let’s get you out of this elevator shaft.”
She paled when she realized what she had to do, but her lips firmed. “Okay.”
“I’m going to help you get to your hands and knees on the boards. Then I want you to crawl to John.” Patrick smiled his encouragement. “You can do this, Rach. Just take it slow. I’m right behind you.”
Letting her go was tough but once he got her to the boards, her removal from the shaft was accomplished with efficiency. John lifted her to the solid flooring, with Patrick right behind her. He didn’t relax until the makeshift bridge was removed and the security bar fell back across the opening.
“How the devil did she fall into the shaft, Patrick?” John said in a low voice as they both watched Rachel, perched on the stack of four-by-fours sipping water from a bottle one of the crew handed her. “The bar was still in place.”
“That’s what I want to know,” Patrick muttered. He crossed the floor toward Rachel. With each step, his anxiety for her was replaced with more questions…and anger. He’d almost lost her, and it was his fault. She should be locked up somewhere safe, not traipsing around a dangerous work site.
