Beyond Control

by Kat Martin

  “I’m okay. He tried to kill Josh.”

  Taggart nodded, continued on over to the officer who stood next to where Josh sat. “Take the cuffs off. Cain’s the victim here.” The cop bent to the task, the handcuffs clanking as they fell into the officer’s hands. Rubbing his wrists, Josh rose to his feet.

  “He going to make it?” he asked Taggart, tipping his head toward the man on the gurney being wheeled toward the ambulance.

  “Fifty-fifty chance. He’s lucky you only fired one bullet. Nice placement, by the way. Appreciate your restraint.”

  He grunted. “With any luck the bastard will live. You’ll get some good intel and he’ll spend the rest of his life in prison.”

  “With any luck,” Taggart said grimly. “We’re going to need a statement from both of you. Plenty of witnesses so you shouldn’t have any problem.”

  Josh nodded. He headed for Tory, opened his arms, and she walked straight into them. He could feel her trembling and his chest clamped down. He drew her a little closer. “You okay?”

  She swallowed. “I’m all right.” But she nestled her head on his shoulder and a sob escaped, then another. “He almost killed you.”

  “Hey, it’s over. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  She tried to hold back tears. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right, honey. This is a whole lot worse than a burned-up chicken.”

  Tory laughed. A shuddering breath escaped. “You’re right. I can cry if I want to.”

  “Yeah, baby, you can.”

  But she filled her lungs with a deep breath of air and eased a little away, wiping the wetness from her cheeks. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

  He wanted to tell her both of them were safe, but it wouldn’t be true. Damon Bridger was still out there.

  One problem at a time.

  Josh bent his head and very softly kissed her. “We just need to give our statements; then we can go home.”

  Tory slid her arms around his waist and leaned against him. “I can’t wait to get there.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Me either.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Damon crumpled the legal documents in his fist. How dare she! That bitch! What was she trying to do—dig him for more money? He’d given her five hundred bucks to keep her mouth shut; now she wanted more. She was a lying, cheating whore just like the rest.

  It had been over a year since Damon had seen Suzy Solomon, a hot little brunette who worked at the Peacock. Petite. Small tits. Nice ass, though. And she gave a great blow job.

  He’d gone out with her for nearly three weeks before she’d shown her true colors, the night he’d seen her leaving the club with one of the bartenders. He’d been furious, but he’d forced himself under control.

  The next night, he’d gone to her apartment and accused her, but Suzy had denied it. He’d slapped her around, lost his temper and punched her a couple of times. No big deal. Besides, she’d had it coming.

  He looked down at the crumpled documents gripped in his hand. Suzy wanted to make trouble? He’d give her more than she could handle.

  He considered his options and excitement kicked his pulse up a notch. His breathing grew faster, and arousal slipped through him.

  He still had the car he’d rented using a fake driver’s license and credit cards Izzy had gotten him on the Internet. The vehicle was parked in the garage of an empty rental property he owned. He could drive Suzy up to the cabin, teach her a lesson, show her who was boss. Show her the consequences of going against him.

  His groin pulsed as he imagined the pain he would inflict, the way he’d make her beg, the feel of his hands running over her smooth skin, sliding up around her throat. He thought of the power he’d feel as he squeezed the life from her body, and a rush of sexual heat tore through him, making his blood run hot.

  He swore softly. It was a fantasy he couldn’t fulfill. When the bitch turned up missing, it would be too easy to make the connection.

  Still, he couldn’t let her get away with it. He’d talk to her, explain what was going to happen if she didn’t drop the lawsuit. Give her a taste of what to expect.

  His mouth watered in anticipation. He’d have to be careful, but he could make it work.

  He tossed the papers on his desk, grabbed his sport coat off the back of the chair, and shrugged it on. He’d pay Suzy Solomon a visit, remind her exactly who she was dealing with. His hand tightened into a fist as he walked out of the office.

  By the time he reached her apartment, he was in a dark fury. He had to control the rage burning through him or he would bring the law down on his head.

  He started to slam his fist against the door, stepped back and took a deep breath, knocked softly instead. He was only a little surprised when Suzy saw him through the peephole and pulled the door open.

  “Damon. I didn’t . . . didn’t expect to see you. You’ve been served with papers. You shouldn’t be here.”

  “We need to talk, Suze. Straighten things out. I didn’t realize you were still angry about what happened. I’m really sorry, you know. Please let me in.”

  “I probably shouldn’t.” But she opened the door wider and stepped back to allow him inside. “Last time you came over you hurt me.”

  Damon walked into the apartment, which had even more of those stupid cactus plants she liked sitting on the floor. Otherwise it hadn’t changed. It was just as small and cluttered as he remembered.

  “What did you want to say, Damon?”

  “You got anything to drink? I could use a beer or something.”

  She disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a Bud, handed it over.

  “Thanks.” He cranked off the top and took a long swallow. “Why’d you file those papers, Suze? I told you I was sorry. I gave you money. You should have been satisfied.”

  “You hit me, Damon. You slapped me. You shouldn’t have hurt me.”

  “You cheated on me, baby. You needed to learn a lesson.” He set the beer down on the coffee table, walked closer. He could see the fear in those big blue eyes and just thinking about hitting her, slapping her, making her pretty mouth bleed made him hard.

  “You should have learned your lesson the first time. Now I’ve got to show you what happens when you try to go against me.” Anticipation seared through him as he caught a handful of her thick brown hair to hold her in place and drew back to hit her.

  Suzy made a sound in her throat and the next thing he knew he was facedown on the floor, his arms cranked hard behind his back.

  He grunted in pain, heard the metal clank of handcuffs, and swore foully. “You little bitch!”

  “I’m Detective Jeremy Larson, Phoenix Police Department.” The cop standing over him was tall and lean with curly brown hair. Another man stood a few feet away, same athletic build, short brown whiskers along his jaw.

  “You’re under arrest for attempted assault,” Larson said. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.”

  “Fuck you.” Damon tuned out whatever else the cop had to say. He’d be out of jail in hours. He hadn’t really done anything, made a few threats, no big deal.

  One thing he knew. Once he was out, he wasn’t waiting any longer. He’d had enough of his job at Bridger Real Estate, enough of being his father’s lackey. He’d had enough pretending.

  He was ending his charade, becoming the man he was meant to be, ending the waiting game he had been playing.

  He was going after Victoria Bradford. Everything that had happened to him was her fault. He had to deal with her, end his obsession, and there was only one way to do that.

  He thought of what he would do to her once he got her to the cabin, and sexual arousal burned through every cell in his body. It was time. He was going to make her pay.

  And no one was going to stop him.

  * * *<
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  Night sounds seeped through the window, the light patter of rain. Lying in bed, Tory snuggled against Josh’s side, their legs entwined, one of his arms draped over her middle. She was exhausted after the terrible day in Dallas that had almost gotten Josh killed, that could have ended with both of them dead.

  She closed her eyes to block the memory, tired but content after Josh’s incredible lovemaking. He was sleeping, his breathing deep and even. That he was still there, still in her bed, was a testament to the toll the day had taken on him.

  She let him sleep but kept watch over him, knowing how upset he would be if he started to dream. He was afraid he would hurt her. Tory was convinced he would never do anything to cause her physical pain, no matter how deeply he slept, no matter how bad the nightmare became.

  As if thinking about it had brought one of his dreams to the surface, he began to mumble softly. His head moved back and forth on the pillow, his body subtly shifted, and a mumbled curse slipped from his lips.

  “Let go . . . of the . . . knife . . .” Just as before, his hand moved from where it rested beneath her breasts, slowly slid up around her throat.

  He wasn’t squeezing, just circling her throat with his fingers. She should wake him. He would be horrified if he realized what he was doing. His hand tightened, jerked a little, but he wasn’t hurting her.

  She didn’t believe he would. She waited. She was taking a chance, she knew. Josh was a big man and strong. What if he truly believed she was his enemy, someone trying to kill him?

  She steeled herself. Maybe it was a risk, but Josh was worth it. And he would never be free, never conquer his demons if he didn’t get the chance.

  He shifted on the mattress and perspiration broke out on his forehead. His fingers felt warm where they ringed her neck. A tremor ran through him, but his hand didn’t tighten.

  Tory refused to wake him. Instead she let the nightmare play out, praying she was right and that even in his sleep, Josh would recognize the familiar feel of her body and know she was lying beside him.

  His muscles went rigid, and suddenly his eyes popped open. He looked down at the hand still circling her throat, jerked away, and his gaze shot to hers. “Tory?”

  “It’s all right, honey. You were dreaming, but you didn’t hurt me.” She reached out and touched his cheek, felt the rough shadow along his jaw. “I knew you wouldn’t, Josh. I knew it even if you were afraid.”

  He rolled toward her, buried his face in her neck. “I knew it was you,” he said. “I was up on that roof, just like before. I was fighting for my life, but deep down, I knew it was you. I knew it was only a dream.”

  Tory slid her arms around his neck and held him. “It was a nightmare, honey. Just like other people have. You can trust yourself to know it isn’t real.”

  He drew back and his eyes held hers. “The day you pulled up in front of my barn was the luckiest day of my life.” And then he kissed her and he didn’t stop.

  He made love to her again and this time when they finished, he didn’t leave. He spent the night in her bed, his body wrapped around hers, and they woke up together in the morning.

  It would have been the best night of her life if it hadn’t been for the uneasy look on Josh’s face as he shoved the covers aside and got out of bed, as he realized the implications of what he had done.

  By staying, he had taken their relationship to a new and deeper level, something she knew he wasn’t ready to do.

  As he headed back to his house, she watched him through the bedroom window. Now that the FBI had caught the terrorist, he didn’t have to feel obligated to stay there and protect her.

  She wondered if he would come over tonight after she put Ivy to bed or if he would stay away, try to put some distance between them. It made her heart hurt to think of it. Which told her how deeply she had fallen in love with him.

  It told her how much it was going to hurt when he was gone.

  * * *

  The wind blew up a storm that Saturday morning. Dark, rolling clouds grew thick and heavy above the damp earth. The rumble of thunder and dull flashes of lightning in the distance made the livestock restless and uneasy. It perfectly suited Josh’s mood.

  He couldn’t get the night he’d spent with Tory out of his head. No woman had ever affected him the way Victoria Bradford did. No woman had made him feel so protective, so possessive, so damned hungry. Her sweetness, her determination, her love for her little girl, combined with the raw sexuality that came to life whenever he touched her. They were impossible to resist.

  What had started as lust had rapidly turned into something more, something he had no idea how to handle. He wanted her. Constantly. But he wasn’t ready to commit to a permanent relationship and his uncertainty wasn’t fair to either one of them.

  He’d left the trailer at daybreak, though he’d wanted to stay in bed and make love to her again. Instead, he’d gone back to his house, showered and changed, gone out and started working the little two-year-old bay stud he’d brought in from the pasture a couple of days ago.

  He wished he could get away. He longed to saddle Thor and ride out, just take off with no particular destination. If Cole and Noah were here, he would, but it was Saturday. The men were off for the weekend, and he didn’t want to leave Tory and Ivy completely alone.

  He hadn’t forgotten the bikers. It was impossible to know what Bridger might do.

  Yesterday after they’d returned to the ranch, he’d called Wes Turley and Ben Rigby, told them about the arrest the FBI had made, thanked them and said they would no longer be needed.

  He’d phoned Deke Logan and relayed the news. He didn’t miss the constant buzz of ATVs zooming around the property, the sight of armed men he’d hoped to leave behind when he had left Afghanistan.

  He’d called his brother at the Tex/Am office. Linc had a meeting with the governor so the call had been brief, but his brother was relieved to hear the terrorist was in custody.

  Still, Josh felt hemmed in, desperate for some time to himself. He was working the colt on a lunge line, running the horse in a circle, when Tory came out to the training ring.

  “How’s he doing?” she asked.

  “Great. Buster’s smart and eager to please. He’s going to be a great horse.”

  “I was thinking maybe we could bring Star into the barn and get him settled, take some shots this afternoon.” Fortunately, the camera gear had survived the shooting in the strip mall.

  “Sounds good.” He tugged the colt in, took hold of his halter, and led him out of the ring. Tory walked beside him over to the pasture behind the barn and waited while Josh turned the horse out to graze.

  “Let’s go get Star,” he said and they headed for the pasture where the stallion was grazing. As soon as Star spotted Tory, his head came up, his ears shot forward, and he trotted over to greet them.

  “How’s my pretty boy this morning?” Tory scratched his topknot and he nickered softly. Looking at him now, it was hard to believe this was the same crazy-mean stallion who had been at the ranch when Josh first bought the place.

  While Tory fed him half an apple in the flat of her hand, Josh slipped the halter over his head. “You like that apple, don’t you, fella?” He ran his hand along the stallion’s sleek neck, over his powerful chest, then down his back while Tory fed him the rest of the apple.

  Together they walked the stallion out the gate back to the barn. Star walked into the stall without a moment’s hesitation, turned around, and placidly stuck his head over the top, looking for another treat. Tory smiled and rubbed his head, which the stallion loved.

  Josh had a hunch the horse had once been well-mannered, but the cruelty of his last owner had destroyed his trust in people. Tory was helping Star regain that trust.

  Josh’s stomach rumbled. He hadn’t eaten anything all morning.

  “Sounds like you’re hungry,” Tory said. “I’ll have breakfast ready in ten minutes.”

  “Great, I’ll be right there.” He watched her
walk away, trying to figure how a woman could manage to look sexy and feminine in a pair of work jeans and worn cowboy boots. As she disappeared inside the house, he felt the same tug of longing that had been pulling him in two directions for weeks.

  The restlessness returned. He needed some space. Badly.

  He was walking through the front door when his cell phone rang. Pulling the phone out of his pocket, he looked down and saw it was Linc, pressed the phone against his ear. “Hey, big brother.”

  “I’ve got news. Is Tory around? She needs to hear this, too.”

  “She’s close. I’ll get her and put the call on speaker.” He walked into the kitchen and set the phone on the round oak table. “It’s Linc. He’s got news.”

  “Hey, Linc.”

  “Morning, Tory. Thought you’d both be happy to know Damon Bridger is in jail. The little party we planned for him last night went off without a hitch.”

  She looked up at Josh with those big green eyes he found so appealing. “What party was that?” she asked Linc.

  “It’s a long story. A waitress named Suzy Solomon filed a civil suit against Bridger for assault and battery. He was served yesterday afternoon. Bridger wasn’t pleased.”

  “I’ll bet he wasn’t,” Josh said darkly.

  “Damon showed up at Suzy’s house last night and wanted to talk. Suzy let him in. Bridger started threatening her, pushing her around, getting more and more violent, but Suzy wasn’t alone.”

  “You set him up,” Josh said, smiling. “You got the woman to file charges. You figured Damon would show up and when he did, you had Townsend there to protect her.”

  “Townsend tracked her down and convinced her to file. He and that Phoenix detective, Jeremy Larson, were there when Bridger went haywire. Larson had him on the carpet in handcuffs before he could carry out his threats.”

  “I wish I’d seen that,” Tory said.

  “Everything he said was recorded. Larson arrested him for attempted assault. Since it happened Friday night, he figures Bridger won’t get bailed till Monday.”

  “Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy,” Josh said.

  Linc chuckled. “I’ve got protection set up for Ms. Solomon till things cool down. I figure Bridger’s legal troubles will keep him busy for a while and out of your hair.”