Vicki whimpered at the stroke of him along her flesh. Another inch and he was inside her. She gasped and squeezed her thighs to hold him close. Her womb ached for more, ached to be filled by this man, this time, this everything. Perfect.
“Do you want me to finish what we started?” John whispered past her ear, his hands braced on each side of her head now.
Vicki nodded but dared not turn her head. No peeking. No words, only whimpers.
She pushed back with her ass, rubbing against his cock, letting a mew escape her.
John’s fingers gripped her thighs, pulling her up and out. With one push, he stretched her.
Oh God. Her head bowed back at the feel of him, thick and hot and perfect. His lips caressed her neck. He pulled back and then thrust again, tilting her perfectly to receive his shaft, hitting her G-spot just right. Within a few strokes, her orgasm neared. Her thighs grew heavy and weak at the same time, chest falling after the first push inside her.
Her gasps filled the room, echoing John’s. Their voices and cries coordinated over the feast of their bodies’ movements. The touch of skin against skin. The feel of flesh in flesh, teasing and pulling responses from each other until she couldn’t take it any longer.
She screamed out her release, her mind blurring.
John’s followed her a moment later and collapsed against her back, falling sideways. “Good girl.”
Vicki sighed. “Well, if this is my reward . . .”
Twenty-Two
Vicki slept afterward, basking in the afterglow. John felt almost as dewy, but fear plagued his thoughts.
John took the time to catch up on e-mail and research. He needed to find out the key to what David was looking for. As Vicki said, if it was the shares, then he didn’t need to send people after her. She’d already agreed to turn them over.
So why was David, or whoever, still after her? What motive could there be? Jealousy maybe? David was the possessive type, but from all accounts, their divorce was amicable. He’d cut ties and not bothered her until recently. That seemed counterintuitive despite how he acted at dinner the other night.
As for other men, Vicki had been a stay-at-home wife who’d only participated in philanthropic endeavors. No affairs, no bad blood other than the blue-blooded bitchiness kind. So revenge seemed less likely.
No, the reason had to be financial. They needed to track down her last will and make a new one toot-freaking-sweet. He texted Joonie and asked her to call him back, which she did almost immediately.
“Hello, John, you cutie.”
“Hi, Joonie, we’ve been thinking. Who is Vicki’s beneficiary if she dies? She thinks it might be David, and that could be the reason for all this bullshit.”
“Hmm, you know what? I don’t know, but give me ten minutes with our lawyers, and I will.”
As he waited, John cruised for more info on Google about Global, Inc. The company after Watters, Inc. For the life of him, John couldn’t figure out who was the CFO. No one listed in any of the databases John perused. For a Fortune 500, that was unheard of. Normally the people who ran those places crowed about their achievements. He’d have to look deeper and check with some friends.
His phone rang before he could start. “Hello.”
“You’re not just pretty. You’re smart, too. David is her beneficiary. For the next five minutes only. In fact, you two sleep in. I think I’m going to give the Watters family a call and let them know we figured out their plan. And I found a few entailed properties that she needs to change over. I don’t know how they got their hands on the deeds.”
As he reviewed the details with her grandmother, John’s stomach dropped as she listed more and more assets. Vicki didn’t act like it, but she was one wealthy woman. She’d made out in the divorce. Wow.
Plus, John got the impression that Joonie was testing him. She listed more and more things Vicki owned and waited for a reaction. With each one, he realized how much better Vicki could do than him. How much better she should do than him. Hell if he knew what to do with that kind of money. He blinked. Well, actually he did know what to do with that kind of money, but that didn’t mean he felt comfortable doing it with her money. And, well, he didn’t want Vicki for her wealth, as he’d told her. He wanted her for her body, her mind, and her soul. She represented everything he needed.
He put down the phone with reservations and crawled into bed next to his woman. They would go through the rest tomorrow. The paperwork would be there soon.
****
As soon as John fell asleep, Vicki rolled onto her back and covered her face. She’d heard everything that they’d discussed. David needed her money. When did cash become more important than life? This was all her fault. The risk to John. The damaged property. And she didn’t know how to fix this. Maybe she should go somewhere and hide. That way John would be safe.
But none of the explanations counted for the attacks on John. He didn’t have money, and what little he had wouldn’t go to David. The reason the bomber targeted John was to hurt her. This was her responsibility. Somehow this was about her and that made John her responsibility. She had to protect him. Her fingers shook as she rolled over and brushed them along his lips.
The memory of his taste flooded her. Male and rich and hers. She wouldn’t risk this man. She sighed and lay back in bed, her thoughts tossing and turning with her. She’d never go to sleep now. Maybe some hot cocoa would help.
Moving slowly, Vicki got up and shimmied into her own jeans and T-shirt her mother had brought to the hospital. After getting her threads on, she stooped to look for her shoes. The floors were cold. Her sneakers were wedged underneath the bed. Great. She strained forward and froze when John twisted onto his side. Please don’t wake up.
One second.
Her shoulders rose when she took a breath and then pushed it out in a slow hiss, squeezing in another inch. There. Her fingers bounced off the fabric, and she had it. She pulled out her Skechers and put them on.
Dressed, she padded down into the kitchen. The fluorescent light blinded her for a second when she opened the refrigerator door and grabbed some milk for hot cocoa.
She’d figure this out. She had to. None of this made sense. Why would David be going after her? Why would he try to blow her up? Sure, he’d get her money, but violence didn’t mesh with his personality. That wasn’t his style. Plus, it was weird. He wasn’t vindictive or cruel, just careless about most things, her being one of them. But this wasn’t him. Even if he was her beneficiary, with all the threats and everything else going on, she guaranteed he wouldn’t see a drop of her money. Grams would make sure of that.
Could someone be setting him up? Not like their history wasn’t public knowledge. She needed to call him. Yes, the police had warned her not to call anyone, but damn it, it wasn’t David, and she had to find out if he knew who would be trying to hurt her and him at the same time. She set the milk to boil on the stove before entering the living room to grab her purse.
A second later, she waited for David to pick up the phone.
“You got me.”
Vicki paused at the sound of his voice. The same but different. That little bit of anger that always shot through her at his tone was gone. What he’d done didn’t matter to her anymore. She felt lighter for the knowing. “David?”
David’s voice went from light and casual to worried in a flash. “Vicki? Is that you? What’s going on? There have been cops here all day. They are all over the place. And they said something about you being hurt, that someone tried to blow you up? That’s crazy. What’s going on?”
“I told you about the pranks and the calls, right?”
“Yes, and you sicced that detective on me.”
“Well, right after I saw you, someone attacked me at work.” She still couldn’t believe the attack had happened. So surreal.
“What?”
“Yes, and then someone trashed my and John’s place and planted bombs underneath our cars. They said it was some sort of watch bomb
thing. I don’t know.” Her voice broke in remembered fear.
“Oh my God,” he said. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, but I’m scared. And, well, John did some digging. Did you know that you’re the beneficiary of my will? My grandmother changed it already, but if that is the reason for this . . .” Her words choked off.
“What? Are you . . . do you . . . I can’t believe this! You’re my wife. I would never hurt you!” His outrage vibrated down the phone.
Like heck. “I am not your wife, David. And I was never someone you particularly worried about.”
“You’ve always been the one I cared about. I had to protect you.”
This again? “Protect me from what, bimbos stealing my cheerleading outfit? That makes sense. I said I would give you the shares, okay. Please stop this if this is you. It doesn’t need to go any further.”
Silence.
Then David said, “Do you really think I would hurt you?”
Vicki’s heart thudded. “I don’t want to, but who else would want to kill me? There was only ever you until John, and everything points to you.”
“I have nothing to do with this, but you know what? I will take care of this. Goddamn it . . .” His voice trailed off.
“Wait, don’t be stupid, Davi—”
He hung up.
Vicki growled. “Don’t you—oh my God. David, I’m going to kill you.” She stared at the phone and listened to the ringtone in disbelief. She hit redial over and over again. The shit didn’t pick up. What did he mean, he’d take care of this? This didn’t make sense. None of this made any sense.
Vicki walked back to the kitchen and lifted the milk off the stove. She rooted around in the fridge looking for Hershey’s syrup.
A faint creak made her spin.
She glanced around the darkened kitchen, her night vision gone after the light from the refrigerator. Nothing moved.
She waited a tick, then forced her muscles to relax. I’m just jumpy.
Her back was to the back door. That explained how she missed the man standing behind her.
The androgynous mechanical voice, ever so familiar to her now, said, “Freeze.”
Vicki let out a short shout and raised her hands instinctually. A hard pressure pushed into her back.
“Do you feel that? That’s my gun. You know what that means?” the voice taunted.
“What do you want?”
“No questions now. We need to be leaving. Don’t want to wake your precious John or any of the cops outside, do we?” The person shoved Vicki forward toward the back door. “Move, princess.”
Vicki pivoted to take in the form before her and stifled a laugh. The figure was covered in black head to toe, no skin showing, and wearing sunglasses at night. A bit of an overkill. Then the figure raised the gun. The urge to laugh disappeared. “Why are you doing this?”
“Shut up! I told you to shut up. Do you want me to go kill your lover? Move.”
Vicki blanched. Not John. Vicki turned back and headed out the door. Two more men waited outside. The smaller one trotted toward them and continued right at Vicki. Vicki cringed backward, but his punch knocked her out.
****
Dang, her head pounded. Vicki tasted blood in her mouth, and exhaustion nearly pulled her back into sleep.
No.
Vicki straightened and looked around her, temples throbbing. The black figure was gone, as were the two men. She appeared to be lying on a basic twin bed. When she got up and tried the doors, she confirmed she was locked in. Of course.
The room was sparse. There was the aforementioned bed covered in a white comforter with two super firm pillows and peanut-shaped shams in rust. A small bathroom led off to the side of the room. A miniscule table stood in one corner with a single chair, and a television hung against the wall. No windows, and the room smelled of dirty socks. Great.
She threw herself back on the bed. Her head rested on the pillow, and her hand smoothed down the generic white pillowcase. John’s bedding was softer. Heck, his chest was softer. John was going to be so pissed off. Her eyes closed, stomach twisting. What the heck was she going to do?
She sucked in a breath. She missed him so badly it hurt. A rock settled in her chest and refused to move.
Lying here wouldn’t help her, though. Action. She vaulted up and inspected the door. The wood was sturdy, the lock secure. She examined the hinges, but they were so rusted, she doubted she could budge them. She patted the walls. Maybe there was a secret passageway. She inspected the bed and the metal frame—no give. Nothing in the mattress or sheets. The table might be more useful. She’d break off a leg and use that as a weapon. Vicki Masterson would not go down without a fight.
Twenty-Three
“Vicki!” John stormed through the house. Where the hell had she gone? He’d woken up to a cold bed. No Vicki. He’d checked the entire house. With a curse, he pulled on his pants and trotted outside to the police cars parked in front.
As he got close, he saw both policemen leaning forward in the car. He could tell from their positions that they’d been knocked out. He rushed and opened the door. They still had pulses. What the fuck? Where the hell was Vicki?
John bolted inside and fumbled with the phone. He called Bentley’s number. The line rang.
This didn’t make sense. Vicki, from what he could tell, lived a blameless life. Nobody made sense except David. But the man had an alibi. Hell, Bentley had someone watching him during the attacks. David had readily given up the security feeds from his building to prove it. He had to know that he was the main suspect. According to Joonie, the dude had seemed really upset when he’d heard Vicki was hurt.
But still, the fucker was hiding something. He could tell. It was this itch beneath his skin. John whirled around and slammed his fist into the wall. He wanted to beat it out of him. He could, easily. And that would get him nowhere. John knew in his gut it wasn’t David. No, someone was setting him up. Again, the question was why? Who?
A curt voice answered, “Yeah?”
“Bentley, this is John Lawrence. Send more police. Vicki’s gone, and someone knocked out the police out front. Hurry.”
None of this mattered at all if Vicki died. His fists curled. Where was she? He turned, and his body slid down the wall. He covered his head with his hands. What he needed now was friends. Brae. Time for some badass. John dialed.
“Brae.”
“Yo.”
“I need help. They took Vicki.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m at the safe house. Meet me at my place.”
“I got a better idea. Come to my old house. I have some weapons that I have a license for. Might be best to be armed.”
“Fine. I’ll be there ASAP.”
The cavalry was called. He only hoped it wasn’t too late already.
Please be safe, Vicki.
****
Vicki slumped in the chair by the door. A series of distant thuds forced her straight. Instincts humming, she backed up into the bathroom.
When the knock sounded in the other room, she locked the bathroom door and glanced around wildly. She hadn’t examined the bathroom yet. She yanked the shower curtain aside. There was a small window above the shower. High, so no one could see inside. A dark sky lit with tiny white stars met her gaze. So it was still nighttime.
Perfect.
She unlocked the latches and pushed the glass up, arms straining. More knocking from the front door, then the sound of splintering wood. The window stuck, then rose an inch with a shriek of protest. She paused and listened to the front.
“Vicki Masterson?” an unknown male voice called out. Damned if it didn’t sound like the douche from the kitchen earlier. “My name is Detective Wiley from the police department. We have been sent to find you by Detective Bentley. Are you all right?”
My sweet fanny.
Bentley was as thorough and stubborn as the bulldog he resembled. No way he’d found out where she was and didn’t come hims
elf. She trusted only John or her detective right now, and this man wasn’t either of them. Vicki put her back into it and pushed the glass up another few inches, then hunched and wiggled through the opening. The drop appeared daunting, but at least she was on the first floor.
Vicki pushed forward, fell about six feet onto her hands, and rolled. The skin of her palms shredded on the concrete. She took in her surroundings. A back alley somewhere. A hotel? She raced to the right. More light that way.
Sparks pinged off the wall next to her head. Holy crap on a crutch. Bullets. No way the guy was a cop. She flinched and slowed. The wall in front of her exploded in a spray of powder and then she was around the corner. As soon as she cleared the brick, she slowed and listened. She heard the window shriek even louder when the “policeman” struggled to exit the bathroom the same way she had. Her hand covered her chest, and she scanned her environment. Yep, definitely a motel, a cheap one given the red lights and hourly rates advertised on the blinking neon sign. The Hacienda. What kind of place had only tiny windows and doors that locked from the outside?
The courtyard formed a U shape with two stories facing the center with hallways at each corner. A dingy pool surrounded by a metal gate dominated the middle, the parking lot in full view. Straight ahead in the middle of the U was the office, a blinking Vacancy light on.
A tall guy strode toward a car. He held a phone up to his face, talking. His words drifted to her. “She’s gone. Slid out the window, but we will get her.” Great, now there were two of them.
The other guy behind her cursed, and she heard a thud in the alleyway. Time to move. Where the hell could she go? The stairs would work, but that would put her in plain view of parking lot guy.
A maid wheeled by with her cart at that moment. Vicki crouched and walked alongside the cleaning supplies. The maid glanced down at her with a quizzical expression on her face.
Vicki put her hands together in a prayer position, mouthing, Please. The maid said nothing and kept pushing the cart. They made it to the front desk. Vicki ducked into the supply closet after the maid and stood near the window to peek outside.
Whole Again (Hometown Hero's Book 1) Page 17
