by Devney Perry
What the fuck was happening? I stared at her frozen with shock. Did she actually think my death would get her my fortune?
“How is killing me going to get you money?” I couldn’t believe I was even asking that question.
“Simple. You die. Trent inherits your trust fund. I take it from Trent.”
“But Steffie, my money goes to Nick.” Now that I had poked a gaping hole in her logic, I hoped she would stop pointing her gun at me and my unborn child.
“Wrong, Emmy,” she hissed. “Fred Andrews didn’t make your beneficiary change. He’s been stalling. It’s still listed as your father.”
My mind just kept spinning. How could she possibly know that? Had she bribed him with my millions? Or had she used some of her other more personal “assets” to get information from him?
“Do you actually think you’re going to get away with my murder, then marry my father?” I asked, again stunned by this conversation. “This is crazy. You can’t be serious. Tell me you’re joking.”
“I’m dead serious.” Her desperate and insane eyes locked on mine. “I’ve spent too much time planning for this to fail. I’ve sacrificed everything to get here and I’m not stopping now.”
This rushed vacation suddenly made sense. She had to commit my murder before Nick became the beneficiary of my trust.
My mind raced through the last few years, seeing things from a new angle. I had once confessed to her that I had been considering donating my trust to charity. She had adamantly talked me out of it. I had asked her once if she loved my father. She had just smiled and said he was what she’d always planned for. Not loved. Not wanted. Planned for.
And when I’d told her that I was being stalked, she had never once encouraged me to go to the police. Instead, she’d asked me to point him out to her.
“My stalker? Were you behind him all along?” I asked.
“Oh, no. He’s genuinely obsessed with you. And back then, I doubt he would have caused you harm. But after Logan had him tracked down and nearly beaten to death for stalking you, his obsession turned a little . . . uglier. When I approached him with a big fat wad of cash, he was more than willing to cooperate.”
What? I had no idea that Logan had done that. It didn’t matter. Not when Steffie had a gun aimed at my chest. Not when my oldest friend was paying someone to murder me.
Pain lanced through my heart. All of my precious memories with Steffie had just been tainted by her insatiable greed. Now I knew just how much she valued our friendship and my life: less than one hundred million dollars.
“You’re my friend,” I whispered. “Does that mean nothing to you?”
She shrugged. “I’ll buy new friends.”
My sadness was quickly replaced with anger.
Hadn’t I been through enough this year? Personal struggles aside, I’d had a drug dealer press a gun to my forehead and a rogue motorcycle gang attempt to kidnap me. Now my friend, my father’s fiancée, was threatening to kill me?
“You’ll rot in jail,” I hissed.
“I won’t,” she snarled. “The cops will get here and find me tied up and helpless, sobbing over your lifeless body. Your stalker will be on his way to Canada with the money in my purse, never to be seen or heard from again. Just another break-in gone wrong. You’ve had such bad luck with those after all. Only this time I’m here to make sure he doesn’t fuck it up.”
I gaped at her for a moment, letting it all sink in. There would be no pleading for my life, no softening her heart with anecdotes from the past. She would not change course. Determination was etched all over her pretty face. The friend I had always loved was just a phantom. A cloud of lies veiled the brunette stranger in my living room.
She was counting on her gun to keep my feet rooted but I wouldn’t just stand here, waiting for my executioner to arrive. I had too much to live for. I would fight fiercely to save this baby inside me. And I was banking on the fact that Steffie’s gun had been shaking in her hand since she’d pulled it out of her purse.
So I summoned all the courage I could find and took a breath. One. Two. Three.
The second Steffie looked back to the window, I whirled around and sprinted to the door. A loud crack had me ducking my head. It echoed in the room a split-second before one of the large windows next to me shattered.
She missed!
Steffie bellowed a frustrated scream and yelled my name.
Taking one glance over my shoulder, I expected to see her aiming the pistol again. Instead, she was pulling herself up off the floor. She must have tried to follow me but tripped on the wrinkle in the living room carpet. Her falling was likely the reason that the bullet had hit the window instead of me.
That wrinkle, the one I’d cursed a hundred times, had just saved my life.
Now all I had to do was make it outside before she fired again and I could escape into the trees. The adrenaline pumped in my veins and propelled me faster and faster. When I hit the tile in the foyer, I scrambled a bit but was able to stay on my feet and throw open the door.
“Get back here!” Steffie screamed.
Two steps outside and I thought I was home free. But a strong arm banded around my stomach, pulling me backward at the same time a hand clamped over my mouth, muffling my scream.
“No!” I yelled, fighting and clawing at my captor. But despite my hitting and kicking, he was able to drag me around the side of the house.
“Quiet, Emmeline.”
I stopped fighting and the hand at my mouth loosened. I craned my neck and saw a familiar face.
“Dash?”
He pressed a finger to his lips and shushed me. Then he released his hold, grabbed my hand and pulled me behind a large tree near my house.
In the distance, Steffie raved like a lunatic.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered, crouching close to the ground to hide.
He shook his head, signaling for me to remain quiet.
I nodded and turned, peering around the side of the tree. I was so relieved to be out of that house but more confused than ever.
Minutes went by as we hid and listened for any sign of Steffie. She had stopped screaming and I had no clue where she could have gone.
Movement at the corner of my eye made me flinch. I watched with wide eyes as my stalker emerged from behind the house, creeping slowly toward the front with a sizeable pistol in his hand. He looked just like I remembered, ginger hair and a scrawny frame. His eyes were beady and set too close to the bridge of his nose.
A shiver ran down my spine as he slithered past the tree, thankfully unaware of our presence.
Dash nudged my arm, jerking his chin toward the back corner of the house. Another figure emerged from the same place my stalker had just come from.
Draven.
With cat-like steps, he closed the distance to my stalker. The cocking hammer of Draven’s handgun filled the silent air.
“Drop it,” Draven ordered.
My stalker tossed his gun to the dirt without hesitation. Then with one swift but powerful blow, Draven slammed the butt of his gun into the back of my would-be murderer’s skull, sending his body crumpling to the ground.
“Come on out,” Draven called.
“Did you get the skank?” Dash yelled.
“Yeah. She’s tied up inside with Jet.”
Dash hauled me to my feet and tugged me behind him as we walked toward Draven and the unconscious man at his feet.
“Tie up this guy,” Draven said.
While Dash obeyed his president’s command, the shock of the situation hit me. I wrapped my arms around my tummy as my shoulders started to shake, but before I could collapse, Draven wrapped me in a tight embrace.
“You’re okay,” he said.
The shaking turned into sobs and I buried my face in his shirt.
“You’re okay, Emmeline,” he said. “You’re okay. It’s over.”
“Where is he?” I asked for the hundredth time.
I was in the conference
room at the sheriff’s station, just like the last time I’d had a gun pointed at me. But this time, Nick wasn’t by my side. Instead, I was surrounded by Draven and men from his motorcycle club.
And no one was telling me where my husband was. Every time I called his cell phone, it went straight to voicemail.
It had been almost four hours since Steffie’s attack. After I’d pulled myself together, Draven had driven me to town. The sheriff’s station, which had been practically deserted when we’d arrived, was now buzzing with activity.
Jess had come in and taken my statement. Shortly thereafter, he had disappeared.
Milo had come in with bottled waters. Then he’d vanished too.
The only other deputy I knew was Sam and he was currently in an interrogation room with my stalker.
Steffie was locked in a jail cell.
“Something happened. Why aren’t they telling me what’s going on?” I asked Draven.
“I don’t know, kid.” Draven’s voice was filled with concern.
I was nauseous and shaking, probably from a combination of pregnancy and anxiety. I needed something to eat before I passed out.
“Would one of you mind finding me some crackers? And maybe some orange juice?” I asked Draven’s men.
“I’ll get it,” Dash said.
“Can you talk to me? The quiet is making things worse,” I asked Draven.
“Sure. What do you want to talk about?”
“How did you end up at my house?”
Draven had given his statement to Jess but hadn’t explained how he had come there in the first place.
“When you told me about your other break-ins, something didn’t sit right with me so I started digging. Found out it wasn’t the Warriors like you thought, so we looked into your relatives. This morning, my hacker found a couple suspicious emails between that bitch and that guy I clocked. She buried them deep but my guy dug them out. Then he found out she’s been pulling cash these last few weeks. Close to a half million in the last ten days. We came down to warn you and Nick that something suspicious was going on.”
I let his explanation sink in. What would I have done had they not been there?
“Fucking lucky timing,” Draven said, blowing out a loud breath.
Absolutely. “How did you know where to find me?” I asked.
“Uh, Dash may have swiped your phone the other weekend and put a tracker on it,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
I never thought I’d be so happy to have my privacy invaded.
If it weren’t for Draven, I would likely be dead. I would have escaped Steffie but run right outside into my stalker’s arms.
I struggled to believe how fortunate we were. Had Draven chosen to wait until the afternoon to come to Prescott or had the hacker not found Steffie’s emails until later, things would have turned out much worse.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “For not giving up. For saving me.” For saving us.
“Glad we could be there,” he said, taking my hand.
“Where’s Nick?” I asked. My voice cracked and tears flooded my eyes. Something was terribly wrong. I just wanted someone to tell me what it was.
A loud commotion outside the room had Draven and me both shooting out of our chairs and rushing through the door.
My hand flew up to my mouth as Nick jogged across the room. He was covered in ash and soot but he was okay. I lost sight of his face when he folded me into his chest.
“You’re okay,” I cried into his scorched shirt. Its smell made my stomach roll but I didn’t care. All that mattered was he was here and both of us were safe.
“You’re okay,” he said.
Surrounded by deputies and motorcycle gangsters, Nick and I held tight to one another. The world around us disappeared.
Draven had been right earlier. It was over.
I felt it this time. We’d made it through. Now all that was left for Nick and me was a happy life building our family. Enjoying every moment together.
“Let’s go home?” I asked.
“Let’s go home.”
Even though it was the middle of the afternoon, Nick and I took a long shower and then climbed into bed.
I was emotionally exhausted and needed sleep.
There was a mass of people downstairs waiting to see us, but I didn’t care. They’d stay for a couple of hours while we spent some time alone.
Wearing one of Nick’s flannels and my winter socks, my back was curled into his bare chest.
It felt like days, not hours, had passed since I’d woken up in this same position. It was hard to believe that just this morning I had learned I was pregnant.
My desire to surprise Nick with an elaborate announcement was gone. Now all I wanted was for him to know.
“I’m pregnant,” I said with no fanfare or dramatics. We didn’t need it. The news itself was big enough.
His arms pulled me closer and his chest expanded with a deep breath. “Love you, Wife,” Nick whispered into my hair.
“Love you, Husband.”
His hand traveled from my chest to my tummy. Gently, he lifted up the hem of my flannel and splayed his palm across my flat stomach.
“Love you too, baby.”
Two years later . . .
“Mom, I’m hanging up the phone now.”
“Wait!” she yelled. “Can we talk about the flowers?”
“It will have to wait. I’ll see you in less than an hour. That is, if you’d let me off the phone so I can finish getting ready and load up Draven.”
“Fine,” she huffed and hung up.
I looked at my baby boy playing on the floor and smiled. Draven Nicholas III was almost a year and a half old, not really a baby anymore. He was an exact replica of Nick, minus the beard.
“Grammy is driving me crazy with this wedding business,” I told him.
He gave me a smile that melted my heart and went back to stacking a tower of cups.
My mother and Alesso had gotten married the fall after my ordeal with Steffie. They had come to Prescott and had a no-fuss wedding at town hall. At the time, I had been so impressed by Mom’s decision to skip the theatrics. Then that night at dinner, the real Collette had appeared and announced that they were having an enormous wedding reception. She had only wanted to get married quickly so she and Alesso could move into their Montana chalet.
The reception had taken her nearly two years to plan but finally it was all coming together. In a month, we would have the party, and I had vowed never again to get involved in coordinating a wedding.
“Ready to go, buddy?” I asked Draven, picking him up off the floor and kissing his chubby cheek.
It was Independence Day and we were hosting a party at the garage. This was our first Fourth of July gathering at Slater’s Station but I hoped it would become an annual tradition for our families and friends.
Tonight, we were filling the parking lot with camp chairs while the men barbequed, the women chatted and the kids played. Then we were all staying for Prescott’s fireworks show.
“We’re here!” I called into Nick’s shop.
Three heads popped up from underneath the hood of a green sports car.
As Nick, Uncle Dash and Grandpa Draven crossed the room, I gave my boy one last hug and kiss. It would likely be the last time I’d get to hold him until well after dark and he fussed for his mama.
“Hey,” Nick said, kissing my cheek as Grandpa Draven lifted Baby Draven from my arms.
“Hi.” I smiled. “Can you help me unload?”
“Dash and I can take care of it,” Nick said.
“Okay. Bring the beer in first, please, and I’ll start loading it into the fridge.”
“How’s my little man today?” Nick asked our son before ruffling his brown hair and walking outside to my Jeep.
Sliding into Draven Sr.’s side, I gave him a sideways hug. “How are you?”
“Good. Glad to be here.” He smiled and kissed my forehead.
When Nick h
ad learned that Draven had saved my life, the broken bond between them had healed. They’d built a strong working relationship, and both Nick’s garage and Draven’s in Clifton Forge were now extremely profitable.
Nick had gotten so busy that I hadn’t been able to keep up with the bookkeeping and office work, so the year after they had moved to Montana, Alesso had started managing the office.
“How many cars did you bring with you this time?” I asked Draven.
“Three.” He grinned.
I rolled my eyes and gave him an exaggerated glare. “I’m never going to see Nick at this rate. He gets so caught up with one of them that he forgets what time it is. He missed dinner twice this week.”
Draven chuckled. “Like father, like son. I remember once, Chrissy got so mad at me for doing the same that she brought ten alarm clocks to the garage and set them to go off one minute apart. By the time the last one beeped, it was so loud that I couldn’t ignore them anymore.”
“She was a smart woman,” I said. Nick’s mom’s tactic was brilliant and tomorrow I was going alarm clock shopping.
“Yes, she was,” Draven agreed with a sad smile.
“Can you keep him while I get the food ready?” I asked.
He nodded before tickling his grandson and heading outside. Draven might not have been the best father but he was a wonderful grandfather. So was Alesso.
They were the only grandfathers Draven would ever have. My father had nothing to do with my life and I wouldn’t allow him in my son’s.
Trent Austin had refused to believe that his adoring fiancée would attack me. It wasn’t until after her trial and she had been sent away to prison that he’d realized just how much she had manipulated him. She hadn’t even been pregnant. It had all been a lie to ensure that he married her. I still wondered if she had planned on killing him too.
“Emmeline!” Mom was storming into the garage, pulling my brother, Ethan, behind her.
“Can you please tell your brother that bringing his ex-wife to the wedding reception is completely inappropriate?” she said.
