In terms of being fired, Adam could think of better ways to be let go. But as another foot connected with a rib, it was hard to be grateful for anything.
Son of a bitch. He tried to push himself up, but another blow landed right above his knee and threw him off balance and back onto the dirty floor of the stairwell.
Adam was a good fighter. In fact, he was damned sure he could take on any of these bastards one-on-one. Scratch that. He could take them two-on-one. But right now there were four of them, and all his training was shit when they were landing kick after kick.
It wasn’t even the pain that pissed him off the most. It was that the kicks were so haphazard they weren’t even thinking about where they were hitting him. Damn it, Ike, you couldn’t even train your guys to beat someone up right?
But then a shoe connected with his face and the world went black for a moment. When he opened his eyes again, there was still lots of pain but the kicks had stopped. The legs in front of his face were blurred lines of black, and slowly they came into the shape he knew they were. But there was something in the background. Slim ankles and a pair of black strappy shoes. Then there was jumbled speaking, but it wasn’t one of his former coworkers. The voice was softer... familiar....
“Or I’ll call the cops.”
His gaze traveled up the toned legs and the black fabric and the perfect cleavage until he saw the face of an angel and the barrel of a gun.
“Lady, this isn’t any of your—”
The gunshot ricocheted off the concrete walls of the stairwell. Adam flinched, waiting to see whether the telltale pain of a gunshot wound came. But wherever the bullet was, it wasn’t in him. But the false bravado of his coworkers—former coworkers—fled as fast as they did.
Lazy bastards couldn’t even unarm one woman who probably weighed less than half of their bodyweight. The clack of heels against concrete told him that the woman was approaching him. He rolled onto his side and tilted his head back just far enough to confirm his suspicions. Melody Murray stood above him like an avenging angel. But she wasn’t taking revenge on his behalf. No. One of those bullets had his name on it.
He didn’t close his eyes or beg for forgiveness. This day was bound to come sooner or later. He should feel lucky it was her doing the deed instead of the lowlifes who had just been beating the shit out of him.
Adam pushed himself over just enough until he fell onto his back, the dirt and grime beneath him so different from the angel above him. She stared down at him dispassionately while she aimed the gun at his forehead.
Taking one last deep breath, he waited for the bullet to come, once again replaying the scene in his mind that had brought him to this. He’d done a lot of shit in his days, but holding her back while her mother was murdered? That was the one sin he knew there was no coming back from. No atoning or begging for forgiveness. That was a first-class ticket to hell....
Except the gun didn’t go off again. He took one more last breath and then another.
Eventually Melody Murray lowered the gun and knelt carefully at his side. “What’s your name?”
Her voice was low and breathy and sexy as hell. He’d say she should be a radio host, but it would be a damn shame to cover that pretty face.
“Who is the man who was working with you? Who killed my mother?”
His avenging angel wanted to take on the devil himself. Poor thing didn’t stand a chance.
Adam stayed quiet. It was only a matter of time before she brought up that gun again. His mind flashed through all the ways he could disarm her: Swipe her legs out from under her. A quick blow to her throat. Break the wrist holding the gun. He deserved this, though. If anyone had the right to do him in, it was her.
“Damn it,” she muttered as she flicked the safety on the small model Bobcat Beretta and tucked it back into the clutch, which didn’t look big enough for a handgun. Then she was wrenching his arm. He half thought she was going to try to torture him, but instead she pulled his arm over her shoulders and started to pull him to his feet.
He blinked a few times as he tried to stop the room from spinning even as he worked his bruised legs to push himself up. If the attackers had any idea what they’d been doing, he’d have broken bones all over by now. Amateurs.
Melody led him out of the stairwell and down the hall. He angled his face down so that if anyone saw him, they’d think he was drunk and not on the edge of passing out again. He was playing an odd game right now. He knew that if Melody hadn’t killed him yet it was because she wanted something from him. She had her gun put away and was leading him away from danger, so she must think he was worse off than he was.
Thinking about what she saw, that made sense. He bet a normal guy who got a beating like that would barely know his own name. Adam wasn’t normal, though, and Melody was about to find that out.
But the longer she stayed, the greater the chance that Ike or Jadon would discover who she really was. So Adam kept quiet as Melody led him onto the elevator. He tried not to lean too much weight on her. She had already proved herself to be stronger than he expected when she pulled him up. No matter how strong she was, she was still shorter than him—even in heels—and with his arm around her, he could feel exactly how small she was. Hell, he still remembered how small she’d looked while cowering away from him back in San Francisco.
He closed his eyes tightly and pushed the memory away. He’d welcome death gladly, but he didn’t want to think about what he’d done. The elevator dinged as they hit the ground level and Melody was pulling him forward. Even though he wasn’t in as bad a condition as she apparently thought, he still wasn’t doing great and tripped over his own feet as she helped him through the lobby.
She pushed a hand against his chest to steady him, and he stared at the delicate fingers and the perfect manicure. Black nail polish. His angel had a bit of an edge... and she was touching him. He was so confused, but didn’t want to fight this. Melody was warm and she smelled good, like soap and flowers and just a hint of woman. The fact that he wasn’t dead was a plus too.
There were cabs lined up outside, ready and waiting to pick up guests leaving the big event, so she shuffled him right into the first one waiting. He winced as he had to bend and put more pressure on his ribs, and then leaned his head back against the seat as Melody told the driver to take them to the Congress Hotel.
As the car took off, he knew he was kind of in the clear. He was away from Ike, away from that shithole of a job. He still didn’t know what Melody wanted from him, though.... He cracked an eye open and saw her looking at him suspiciously. Anything either of them said would be overheard by the driver, so they both remained quiet. She looked as if she was measuring him up, getting ready for battle. She couldn’t still be planning to kill him. There were too many cameras and witnesses that had seen them leave together. Though considering the risk she was taking by even being alone with him now, he guessed she didn’t really give a fuck about witnesses right now.
She never took her eyes off him during the ride. Maybe she was regretting not searching him for weapons. The other security guys had taken his sidearm and one of his blades, but he still had a few tricks up his sleeve, literally.
It was a short drive to the hotel and Melody quickly paid the driver. “Can you make it out on your own?” The question was short and clipped.
He could feel his mental faculties returning more and more by the second. A few minutes ago, he’d been completely ready to die, and even though he still felt like a son of a bitch for what had happened to Melody, his desire to live had suddenly returned.
So instead of answering her, he blinked a few times as though her words had never really registered. She cursed under her breath before she once again wrapped her arm around him and awkwardly pulled him out of the cab. The driver was quiet, probably used to half-passed out people being dragged out. Adam hadn’t gotten a look at himself in the mirror, but he didn’t feel any blood. The bruising and swelling might take a few hours to truly catch up w
ith him.
Once they were on the street, it was his chance. He could take Melody out in seconds and be gone before she even knew what hit her. But then the breeze hit and once more he caught her scent. It was so... intoxicating that he seemed to lose himself for a moment and closed his eyes as he savored it. When he opened his eyes again, they were in the lobby of the historic hotel.
Maybe he was more injured than he thought.
He wasn’t about to knock Melody out in the middle of a lobby with multiple people around. So it looked as though he was about to find out what she had planned for him. But now that he was back to himself, would he be able to do what needed to be done if she really had him cornered? Was he capable of killing Melody Murray?
Melody led the oversized lunk to the bed. He wasn’t super tall, just over six feet, but the man was all muscle. A trait that had terrified her back in San Francisco when he’d been one of the only things between her and freedom.
She wanted to gently place him on the mattress, but he fell in an ungraceful lump, groaning as he landed. A brief moment of shock filled her as she realized that Blondie really was there. In her bed and at her mercy....
She took a deep breath and backed away. He looked as if he was going to pass out any minute now and she couldn’t let him go unconscious until she got what she needed from him. There wasn’t much she knew about interrogations, but she was aware that intimidation wasn’t her strong suit.
Could she pull off being a “good cop”? She backed away and took in the scene. The bed took up most of the hotel room, and Blondie seemed to fill it completely up, even though it was a king. His eyes were open but they didn’t seem to be seeing anything. He groaned once more and she ran to the sink right outside the bathroom and filled one of the small glasses with water before setting it next to him on the nightstand. Okay, there. Now she was nice. Now she could try to get him to tell her what she needed to know.
There were no guests who could walk in on them at any moment. There were no thugs who could come back to finish the job they’d started on Blondie. It was just her and him, and she wasn’t giving him a break until he told her what she needed to know. “Tell me your name,” she ordered.
Blondie winced before he met her eyes. His irises were such a pale blue they almost appeared gray. His jaw showed the beginning signs of swelling, and she was sure that by tomorrow he’d look almost unrecognizable.
He was dressed in the standard henchman outfit of a black suit, white shirt, and black tie. It didn’t look natural on him. This was a guy meant for jeans and hard labor, not thousand-dollar suits. It probably didn’t help that this particular suit probably came off the bargain rack somewhere.
The rough blond stubble along his jaw just added to the disheveled image. She had a sudden memory of the last time she’d seen him. When he’d caught her in the basement and Isobel had appeared. He’d tried to keep her quiet so her mother wouldn’t know she was there. That stubble had rubbed against her neck as he’d warned her what would happen if she screamed.
But it hadn’t mattered.
“Hey.” She grabbed his probably sore jaw between her thumb and other four fingers and turned his head to face hers. “Tell me your name.”
Those cold gray eyes met hers. “I told you not to come back.”
So he could talk. Her free hand reached inside her clutch and pulled out the handgun. “I already proved I’m not afraid to use this. I need your name and Baldie’s name now.”
He opened his mouth to say something but started to cough instead. Little drops of blood shot out.
Melody jumped away, narrowly missing the small red projectiles. He was going to ruin the bedspread. She ran to the bathroom once more and pulled all the towels off the rack hanging above the toilet and when she went back to the bed, she set the towels around the man.
Now that she thought about it, she could afford any damage fees they charged her. And it wasn’t as if Blondie was going to report her to the cops, but instincts were hard to push away. In her old life, one tried their best to keep blood off the bed sheets.
One more reminder of how much things had changed.
He started to cough again, and she held the water out to him. “This is the last time I ask nice. Tell me the name of the man you worked with.”
He pushed the water away. “I don’t know what’s in that.”
She rolled her eyes. Really? If she wanted to cause him harm, she didn’t need to poison him. She brought the glass to her lips and tilted her head back as she downed half the contents in a few deep gulps.
She held the glass out to him once more and to her surprise, Blondie pushed himself up, taking the glass away from her, and set it on the nightstand. Right as the realization that he wasn’t nearly as injured as she thought hit her, so did the dizziness.
“Wait... I....” The entire room spun around her and she tried to blink to clear her mind. She reached out to hold onto anything steady, but what she grabbed was warm. She opened her eyes again to see her hand was on Blondie’s shoulder. She jerked away and stood, but the quick motion quickly proved to be a bad idea. She was still in her heels and she started to tumble over before strong arms came around her waist and caught her.
Melody started to push away, but her muscles weren’t working anymore. “What did you do?” she asked, but as her speech started to slur, it sounded more like, “Whadichodo?”
His palm skimmed down her arm until he could pluck the gun from her hand. The gun she forgot she was holding. She frowned as she followed his movements as he set the gun down out of her reach. “You never should’ve done this,” he said as he turned with her in his arms.
Never should’ve done this? Did he think she had a choice? “No, I need to know....”
He turned with her in his arms and led her back to the bed, their roles now reversed. With one hand at the nape of her neck, he placed her gently so her head was on the pillow and then, one ankle at a time, he arranged her legs too.
No, no, no, no.... “Please,” she managed.
Blondie sat next to her on the bed. He stroked the side of her face with his fingertips and ran his hand down until his palm was on her collarbone and his thumb was right at the base of her neck. As though denying his actions, he said, “I didn’t kill you before. Not about to start now.”
He thought she was begging for her life. “Tell me who he is.” Her body now felt as though it were ten times heavier and each word was a struggle. “Tell me who killed Isobel.”
He didn’t answer her, though. Instead, he kept his hand right where it was as his thumb gently stroked the soft skin of her neck. “I knew you were going to be trouble.” Then he leaned in so close that she could feel his breath against her cheek. She could feel unconsciousness pulling at her, at war with the fear and adrenaline demanding she stay awake and fight.
Then he whispered against her ear. “I warned you once and you ignored me. This is a second warning. Ignore me again and you’ll regret it. Isobel is gone. You don’t need to suffer the same fate.”
The last thing she remembered before she finally slipped into unconsciousness was the soft kiss he pressed to her forehead, belying the words he’d whispered.
Melody’s eyes snapped open and she bolted up in bed, the headache suddenly catching up with her and pounding against her skull as she looked around the room. But there was no sign of the man who had so recently been there. Recently? She looked at the clock, which read nine thirty-three. Judging from the sunlight edging in from behind the curtains, that meant nine in the morning. Whatever he’d slipped into the water had lasted a while.
She looked down at herself and noticed a blanket covering her. When she pulled it down, she verified that her dress was exactly how she remembered. She didn’t feel violated in any way. Well, that was a lie. She’d been drugged and not only had she not gotten Jadon’s laptop, but Blondie was once again gone without leaving her so much as a name.
She glanced over to the still half-empty glass of drugged water. B
ut he hadn’t left without a trace.
Melody took a deep breath and allowed the rage to soak in. This was it. Blondie had gotten the best of her twice now and she wasn’t going to let it happen again.
And the next time she saw him, it was going to be on his home ground.
Scott Hart kept running. He ran as though he were being chased. He ran as if the beasts of hell were on his heels. He ran as though if he just went the tiniest bit faster, he could change the past.
When his phone rang, he almost ignored it. These workouts could get an incredible amount done, but if he fell out of his trance-like state as he ran full-out, he might not be able to get it back.
But at the last second, he screeched to a halt and answered the unknown number. “Yeah?”
“Hey, is this Scott Hart?”
If this was a telemarketer, he was going to throw his phone across Central Park and keep running. “This is Hart.”
“I’m Officer Eagan over at Chicago PD. I’ve got a woman here who says she knows you. She asked me to run prints on a glass. It sounds like she was drugged, but she’s refusing to press official charges.”
Scott stiffened as he finally gave his full attention to the call. “Who is the woman?”
“According to her ID, Melody Murray. She made it sound like you knew she was here, but I wasn’t sure....”
God damn it. He knew she was going to be a loose end after the San Francisco fiasco. Not that he could blame her. After what she’d seen, he supposed he should be more surprised that she’d waited three weeks before she started to get into shit. “You said you think she was drugged? Is she okay? Has she been hospitalized?” He was already mentally calculating the time it would take him to get to Chicago.
“She seems fine. According to her, nothing happened that could be prosecuted; she just wants a name. Normally I never would do this, but you helped out on the Cubs Strangler a few years back and I owe you one.”
The Beautiful Thief (The Stolen Hearts #2) Page 3
