Addy felt a steely arm slip around her waist, then saw the rag in the man's hand as it came toward her face. Dear God, someone had grabbed her from behind … someone was going to hurt her. When she opened her mouth to scream, the hand came down over her face, covering her mouth and nose with the rag, the smelly rag. Acting purely on instinct, Addy struggled, trying to free herself. She kicked backward with her heels, hoping to make contact with the man's legs. He held her tighter. She rammed her foot into his ankle and struck him in the stomach with her elbow. Groaning, he loosened his hold on her.
"Be still, bitch," he said, his voice sharp.
When he tried to cover her face with the rag again, she bit down on his hand. He snatched his hand away, cursing loudly. Addy took her chance, whirling around. For a split second, she saw his face in the moonlight. He was a stranger. He grabbed for her. She turned and ran. He ran after her.
He reached out, knocking her down on the pavement, then falling to his knees to straddle her hips. The force of his attack knocked the breath from her lungs. He jerked her up off the driveway.
"They wanted things done up all nice and neat. Said to use the chloroform. Said not to hurt you." He jammed a gun in her ribs. "But they didn't bother telling me that you were such a feisty bitch! So no more Mr. Nice Guy. Understand?"
Addy nodded. What was she going to do? She had to get away. This man could rape her, torture her, kill her. But who was he? Someone had sent this maniac after her. But who and why? Dear God, was this an attempted kidnapping? If Rusty McConnell lost his one remaining child to a kidnapper, he wouldn't be able to live through the tragedy a second time. All Addy could think about was her father.
Her high-pitched, ear-splitting scream shattered the nocturnal solitude.
Chapter 2
« ^ »
Nick didn't know why he'd followed Addy McConnell outside. He wanted to see her again? Yeah. He wanted to talk with her? Yeah. He wanted to get to know her better? Yeah. He wanted to drag her into the back seat of one of those big, shiny limos parked in the driveway and find out if she was as frigid as her ex-husband had implied? Damn, yes. Some gut-level instinct told him that Addy was as fiery as her hair, as hot and wild as the look he'd seen in her bright green eyes. But she would be that way only with him … only for him.
He heard the scream. A bloodcurdling scream of pure fear. And then he saw them. The tall redheaded woman and the muscular youth who held her. She wasn't struggling, she was just standing there in his arms, screaming. Nick moved forward cautiously, knowing he mustn't surprise Addy's attacker. He cursed his bad leg for slowing him down. Time was of the essence. He wouldn't have been the only one who'd heard her screams. Soon the lawn would be swarming with curious guests. No telling what the assailant would do if confronted by a mob of onlookers. He could panic and kill Addy.
Nick saw the gun held to Addy's ribs. The metal housing sparkled like shiny glass when the moonlight struck it from the right angle.
Nick eased off the veranda and out onto the drive, his steps faltering slightly as he leaned heavily on his cane. He could make out only the shadows of Addy and the man holding her captive. He crept along behind the parked cars, edging his way closer and closer to the woman he desperately wanted to save.
Nick saw several uniformed chauffeurs coming around the house, followed by five parking attendants in white coats. Damn! He hastened his lame gait, cursing the pain in his calf. He had to get to Addy.
The mansion's double front doors swung open. At least two dozen people ran outside, Rusty McConnell leading the back. Double damn!
Nick crouched down behind the driver's side of a white Rolls, peering over the hood. If he reached out he could touch the hem of Addy's dress.
"Damn you, bitch," the man with the gun shouted. "See what you've done. See what you've done!"
He jerked Addy away from the passenger side of the Rolls, twisting her arm behind her back and pointing the revolver directly at her head. Addy had stopped screaming. Her face, only lightly covered with translucent makeup, was almost as gray as her dress. The fear reflected on her peachy flesh made the smattering of tiny freckles across her nose visible even in the moonlight.
Nick knew he had few options. Capturing the assailant wasn't his top priority. Saving Addy was. That meant disarming her attacker before he had the chance to use his gun.
"Good God, it's Addy!" Rusty McConnell bellowed like a wounded bull, his voice carrying loudly in the stillness.
Nick could hear the rumble of voices, the tantalizing moan of a saxophone from inside the house, the labored breathing of the sweating man who began walking backward, practically dragging Addy with him. Nick slipped around the side of the Rolls, keeping his head low, groaning silently as excruciating pain radiated from his calf up into his bent knee. Coordinating his movements perfectly to keep pace with Addy and her kidnapper, Nick reached the rear of the car the moment they did.
He had one chance and one chance only. If he failed… If the man panicked…
Nick made his move. The man, young and scared, his dark eyes riveted to Nick, swung Addy around hard, using her as a shield. His long, sandy ponytail flipped over his shoulder. He tightened his hold on Addy. For one split second, he raised the gun a fraction of an inch, the barrel shining brightly just above Addy's head, the man's white hand clearly visible against Addy's flame red hair.
Using his trained warrior instincts, Nick raised his black walking stick with split-second precision. The gold tip touched the assailant's hand. He reacted quickly, shoving the gun against Nick's cane. Nick pressed the concealed lever. A sharp stiletto sprang from the tip of the cane and pierced the attacker's hand, slicing through flesh and muscle. Blood gushed from the wound. The man yowled in pain, dropping the gun. The metal rattled as it hit the driveway. Using his good leg, Nick extended his foot and kicked the revolver under the Rolls. The young would-be kidnapper, having lost his gun and inadvertently released Addy, glared at Nick, who swiftly and adeptly pulled the knife out of the man's hand and, with a quick press of a lever, returned the knife to its secret bed within his black lacquer stick.
When the young man made a move toward Addy, Nick used the gold-tipped staff to ward him off. Twirling the cane around, Nick slapped him across the face, bloodying his nose.
Nick heard the sound of voices coming closer, the loud pounding of running feet. Panting, the assailant glared over Nick's shoulder, then back at Nick. Easing away slowly, the man turned and broke into a full run. Nick made no attempt to follow. He leaned over to help a badly shaken Addy McConnell to her feet. Her tightly coiled topknot had come loose. Thick, heavy tendrils of bright red hair fell down her back, over her ears, and wispy curls framed her face. The sleeve of her unflattering gray dress was ripped, one of her two-inch heels was missing and there was a run in her panty hose that stretched from her ankle all the way up and beyond the hem of her dress. Her silver and black beaded purse rested at her feet where it had fallen from her shoulder.
The delicate fragrance of her expensive perfume mingled with the heady odor of her female perspiration. Nick could smell her heat … and he liked her uniquely sweet scent.
Leaning on his cane, Nick pulled Addy up against his body, hugging her close. Her breathing was labored, her eyes wild with fear, her full lips parted in the prelude to a sigh or a moan or a cry. Nick wasn't sure which. God, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to hold her so close, so tight, that she would become a part of him. He wanted to run his hands all over her, from neck to knees, to make sure she was unharmed, to reassure her by his touch that she was alive.
The voices and running feet came closer. Within seconds a crowd would surround them. He looked at Addy. She looked at him.
"Oh, Nick…" Her voice was pleadingly soft, issuing both thanks and invitation in the way she uttered his name.
She leaned into him, resting against him. She put both of her arms around his waist, clinging to him. He'd never felt so much a man. Not in all his life. Was this what it felt like
, he wondered, to protect your woman?
"You're all right, Addy." Nick lowered his head, his breath mingling with hers. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"
"No—not really—just … just scared me." She raised her lips to his.
Just as Nick's mouth covered hers, he felt the hardy slap of Rusty McConnell's big hand on his back. "What the hell was going on? Who was that man?"
Addy turned her face toward her father, but she remained in Nick's arms, her hands clutching at his back. "He … he was trying to rob me," she lied. "Nick showed up just in time. I … don't know what I would have done."
"The police have been called." Rusty stared at his daughter, doubt and fear raging in his dark green eyes. "Some of the men are trying to catch your attacker. I'd let the dogs loose if we didn't have guests wandering around out here."
Nick could feel the quick, hard beat of Addy's heart where her chest rested against his side. Her breasts were crushed into him. They weren't as small as he'd thought, but they were just as firm.
There was more to this attack than a man trying to steal a woman's purse. If that was all the man had been after, he'd have taken it and run. No, the man, whoever he was, had wanted Addy, had been trying to take her with him. That meant he was either a rapist or a kidnapper. If he'd been a murderer, he could have shot her before Nick saw them. Addy was lying to her father, and Nick didn't understand why. Who was she trying to protect? Surely not her attacker.
"Did you get a good look at his face?" Rusty asked. "Could you identify him?"
Addy nodded. Trembling, she clung to Nick.
"I'll get rid of everybody as quickly as I can," Rusty said. "You aren't going back to your house tonight. You can stay in your old room. I'll have Mrs. Hargett get it ready for you."
"The police will probably want to question everyone," Nick said. "Just in case anybody saw something. But I think Addy and I are the only ones who can identify her attacker. There's no need for them to grill her. I got as good a look at him as she did."
"I'll get Dina," Rusty suggested. "She can stay with you, Addy. A girl needs another woman at a time like this."
"No, Daddy. Really. I'll—I'll be all right." Addy twisted the back of Nick's tuxedo jacket in her hand, wadding it into a wrinkled knot. "If I can just go inside … get away from all these people staring at me. Something to drink. Brandy, maybe. Or a shot of whiskey. And—and—" she looked at Nick. "And Nick—Mr. Romero could go with me."
"Huh?" Rusty's gaze moved from his daughter's face to her arms that were clinging to Nick. "Take her inside, Romero. And stay with her. I'll take care of everything else. You take care of my daughter."
Nick heard both the entreaty and the warning in big Rusty McConnell's voice. The man knew he would protect Addy with his life. He also knew that Nick wanted her, and wanted her badly. A man could always tell when another man was proprietary about a woman. Nick had seen that look in many a man's eye. He'd never thought another man would ever see it in his. He hadn't felt possessive about a woman in twenty-five years. Not since he'd been seventeen and in love with his brother's wife.
* * *
"Well, they weren't a whole hell of a lot of help, were they?" Rusty McConnell stomped across the cream and gold Persian rug in his living room. Running a big hand through his thick, cinnamon-streaked white hair, he chomped down on his half-smoked Havana cigar.
"Now, darling." Dina draped her small, delicate arm around her fiancé's thick waist. "I think the officers did a thorough job. My goodness, they questioned every guest and gave all of us the third degree. It's two-thirty, and we're exhausted. Why don't we go to bed and—"
Unconsciously, Rusty jerked away from Dina's possessive hold, turning to Addy. "You're not going home. Do you understand? Mrs. Hargett's already got your room ready."
"I'll stay here tonight, Daddy, but in the morning, I'm going home." Addy refused to allow some maniac's attack to turn her father into the fanatically overprotective parent he'd been years ago. From the time she was six and her older brother had been killed by his kidnappers, Addy had lived in a gilded cage, a poor little rich girl unable to flee the golden chains that kept her safe. Not until her marriage to Gerald had ended had she found the strength and courage to escape Rusty's loving captivity.
Rusty's gaze swung around, focusing on his niece. "That boyfriend of yours is outside waiting. Why don't you go on home, Janice. And, if Addy isn't up to coming in to work Monday, you handle things."
"Now, Daddy, don't go making any decisions for me." Addy gave Janice a knowing nod and tried to smile. "Go on home with Ron. I'm fine."
"I'll see you Monday," Janice said, giving Addy a quick hug. Walking out, she paused. "Uncle Rusty, you know that M.A.C.'s day-care center can't function without Addy."
Rusty didn't acknowledge his niece's parting comment. Turning all his attention on Brett Windsor, he resisted Dina's attempts to put her arm around him. "What the hell are you still doing here? Go on up to your room, Windsor. I need to talk to Addy and Nick. Alone."
Addy bit her tongue to keep from chastising her father for his rudeness. A worldly wise man, a self-made millionaire, D.B. McConnell could be charming if the occasion called for it, but otherwise he didn't bother with the formalities of courtesy. Good manners were something that, even in her declining years of mental illness, Madeline Delacourt McConnell had instilled in her daughter, and Addy abhorred the lack of them in anyone, even in her own dearly loved father.
She reached out, placing her hand on Brett's arm. "I'll see you in the morning at breakfast."
His smile only enhanced his already handsome face. His dark blue eyes changed from brooding to pleasant. Addy returned his smile, thinking how attractive Brett Windsor was, with his sandy blond hair, his tall, muscular body, his quick wit and attentive manner. Too bad his interest in her was only monetary. As much as she liked Brett, there was no doubt in her mind that his sole interest in her was her daddy's money. Of course, he had no idea that she knew what was behind his phony smiles and attentive manner.
"Why don't you escort your stepmother upstairs?" Rusty said. "This hasn't been the best of nights for her."
"But, Rusty, darling, I should be here with you," Dina protested. "A wife should always be at her husband's side, sharing the good and the bad, giving him her support and love."
Addy wanted to say "poppycock." Dina protested being asked to leave because she didn't want Rusty making any decisions without her. After all, she wasn't his wife, yet, and she didn't want anything to postpone or prevent their upcoming nuptials. Without moving, Addy saw Nick in her peripheral vision. He was staring at Dina, a quirky little smile on his face. He knows her, Addy thought, and can see straight through her the way I can.
"You're exhausted," Rusty said. "There's nothing you can do for Addy or for me, tonight. I'm sorry our engagement party ended on such a sour note." He pulled Dina into his arms, her small body lost in his enormous bear hug. "I just want to go over things again with Addy and Nick."
"All right, Rusty, whatever you want." Reluctantly, Dina accepted Brett's arm and the two left the room.
The moment the door closed, Rusty turned to his daughter. "Now, little girl, I want you to tell me what you didn't tell the police."
"I don't know what you're talking about. I told the police everything." Addy crossed her arms over her chest and plopped down into the cream brocade Queen Anne chair by the fireplace.
"Don't play the innocent with me. I know damn well what happened tonight! Somebody tried to kidnap you." Rusty hovered over Addy, glowering at her, daring her to deny the truth.
She'd been afraid this would happen. Her father was too smart, but it had been worth a try, to protect him from worry and to protect herself from his reaction. "The man was trying to rob me, Daddy."
With an exasperated grunt, Rusty turned to Nick. "Do you think he was trying to rob her?"
"No, sir." Nick glanced at Addy, who glared up at him, a slight tremor moving her head, as if she wanted to give him a ne
gative warning but realized her father was watching her. "The man was either a rapist or a kidnapper. My guess is that your daughter can tell us which."
How was she going to fight both of these men? Addy wondered. Obviously. Nick was on her father's side. She glanced back and forth from the big dark Hispanic to the big fair Scot, both men of equal height and similar physiques, although Rusty's body had broadened and softened slightly with age. Birds of a feather. Two strong, overbearing, macho men.
She realized Nick and Rusty were staring at her. "All right. He was trying to kidnap me, but he didn't. I'm fine. Nick foiled his rather clumsy attempt."
"Why the hell didn't you tell the police?" Rusty bent over, placing his meaty hands on the armrests of Addy's chair. Lowering his head, he narrowed his green eyes and frowned. "You didn't want me to know. Is that it, little girl?"
Shoving on her father's burly chest, she pushed him away, then stood up. "Daddy…"
Rusty turned from her, walking across the room to the long windows that faced the veranda of his white-columned mansion. "I'll call the police in the morning and tell them. We'll have to take the proper precautions."
"Daddy … don't." No, she couldn't bear it. Never again. She was free and she intended to stay free. "If you want to hire someone to follow me around, keep watch on my house, that's fine. Even put on some extra guards at work, that's okay, too. But—I will not move back here and I will not be kept under lock and key."
"We'll discuss this in the morning after we've all had some rest." Rusty nodded toward Nick. "Alton's brought Nick's things over from his hotel and Mrs. Hargett has put him in the room beside you."
"What?" Addy exclaimed, her gaze riveted to Nick's smiling face. Just what was going on here? She felt as if these two had telepathically decided what was best for her.
"I'd prefer him in the room with you, but I didn't think you'd ever agree to that." Rusty's grin was pure masculine superiority.
"Why on earth would you put Nick—Mr. Romero next to me? I'm sure you've already called in an army of guards to surround this place."
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