She wasn’t suave enough to handle this scene. Was she just supposed to shake his hand, maybe give him a hug, and tell him thanks for a good time?
An unbelievable good time.
No way. Jess scooped up her shoes and raced for the door. Their night was over, and it was time for her exit. The suite’s door shut behind her with a soft click.
So what if she was more fleeing than exiting? It wasn’t as if she and Blake were ever going to see each other again.
Her hand pounded onto the elevator’s button. “Come on, come on…”
Ding.
She couldn’t help it, when the elevator doors opened, she tensed. Thanks to last night’s encounter with the gunman, Jess didn’t think she’d ever view an elevator the same way.
But the elevator was empty. She jumped inside, pressed the button for her floor, and, when the doors closed, Jess let a relieved breath escape her lungs.
Blake Landon was an unforgettable man, and he’d just given her the best night of her life.
And to think…if her fiancé hadn’t dumped her three days ago, last night would have actually been her wedding night.
Instead, it had been something wicked, something wild…something perfect.
Something dangerous.
***
The bed was empty. Blake stood in the bathroom doorway, a towel wrapped around his hips and steam rising in the air around him. “Jess?” He raised his voice as he said her name.
There was no answer.
Eyes narrowing, he stalked forward. The bed was wrecked. He’d been insatiable for her last night. Once hadn’t been enough. Not for him.
Quickly, he searched the suite. The golden dress was gone. She’s gone.
The woman wasn’t supposed to try and run away from him.
You aren’t getting away, Jess.
He reached for the phone. Had the hotel manager on the line in an instant. “Jess Delaney,” he bit out her name. “I want to know her room number, and I want it now.” Because she’d slipped up the night before when she said this place was her hotel.
There was a sharp inhalation on the other end of the line, then Blake heard the fast and frantic sound of typing on a keyboard. After a tense moment, the manager told him, “J-Jess Delaney is here on her honeymoon.”
The fuck she was.
“She’s in one of our Honeymoon Suites, suite six-oh-eight, but she’s scheduled to check out this morning.”
He was about to crush the phone in his hand. “She doesn’t check out.”
“Sir?”
He wasn’t done with her, not yet. Jess wasn’t going to slip away from him without a word.
“Stop her when she tries to leave. Jess Delaney is not clear to exit the hotel.” Blake ended the call and fought the urge to crush the phone.
The honeymoon suite? Hell, the fuck, no.
Blake yanked on his clothes and rushed toward the door.
CHAPTER THREE
Jess clutched her bag and rushed through the door at the hotel’s entrance. There was some kind of commotion going on at the front desk, so she hadn’t bothered stopping. They had her credit card number on file—they could bill her for anything she might owe. It wasn’t like she’d run up a tab at the place.
A line of taxis waited near the curb. A relieved sigh slipped from her as she headed toward them. A few more steps and she’d be—
“You need to come with me,” a hard voice ordered as an equally hard hand curled around her wrist.
Jess’s head jerked toward the stranger who’d grabbed her. “I think you’ve got the wrong woman.”
He smiled at her. He was handsome, blond, with a strong, hard build. And very, very cold blue eyes.
“No, I don’t. I saw you last night—”
Her face iced.
“I know you were with Landon, and now, you’re coming with me.”
She yanked against his hold. “Look, buddy, I don’t know who you are—”
He jabbed her. With a damn needle.
Jess screamed, but he shoved his mouth over hers and muffled the sound. She tried to fight him, but her body wasn’t responding to her commands. Her limbs were sluggish, heavy, and Jess felt herself begin to sag.
“Let’s just see,” the man whispered against her lips, “what the bastard will do to get you back.”
Nothing. She was nothing and no one to Blake Landon. She would have told the stranger that, but Jess couldn’t speak.
Her eyes closed.
Her dream had just turned into a nightmare.
***
“Sir…” The hotel manager, Alan Talbott, swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Ms. Delaney didn’t come to the front desk. She’s—”
Blake’s hands slammed down onto the marble counter. “Gone?”
A nervous nod was his answer.
She’d moved fast. Faster than he expected. As a rule, women didn’t run from his bed.
Jess wasn’t following the rules.
I’m the one who told her it was just for the night.
“The room was paid for in advance. One of the non-refundable deals with a travel agency out of Florida. Jess Delaney didn’t charge any incidentals during her stay. There was no need—”
“Was she alone?” Blake gritted out the words.
Alan blinked and his brown eyes widened behind the thin frames of his glasses.
“I-I—” Alan tapped frantically at the keyboard. “The reservation was made for a Mr. and Mrs. Burns, but it was, ah, altered to a Jess Delaney right before her arrival…”
That had better mean that Jess hadn’t become Mrs. Burns.
“Get her address. Send it to me.”
She was probably on her way to the airport. Heading back home. To Florida? Yeah, that fit. He’d caught the faintest whisper of a southern accent in her words.
When the desire was heavy in her voice, the accent was more pronounced. Sexy.
He turned away from the counter, then stilled.
What in the hell am I doing? Chasing after a woman who’d left him. That wasn’t his style.
She’d left, and that was it. He needed to move the hell on.
“Forget it, Talbott,” Blake muttered as he jerked a hand through his hair. “I don’t care.”
Liar, liar.
The truth was…Jess with her golden eyes and her hot passion…she’d gotten to him. Gotten past the hard surface that shielded him from others.
Maybe it was for the best that she was gone. One night, and he was already acting like a man possessed.
There were some women out there who could truly fuck with a man’s mind.
He suspected Jess Delaney was one of those women.
Blake headed for the elevator that would take him back up to his suite—a suite that still smelled of strawberries.
***
“Wake up!” The hard order was followed by a slap—right across her face.
Jess’s eyes flew open. Shock and pain rolled through her. She’d never been slapped in her life!
She tried to lunge toward the jerk who’d just inflicted the damage. A blond prick who—
Her arms were bound behind her. Thick rope locked them to the back of her wooden chair, keeping her helpless.
The blond smiled at her.
I remember him. He’d been the needle-happy psycho outside of her hotel.
“Now that I’ve got your attention…” The psycho murmured, “Call him.” He lifted a cell phone toward her. Not just any cell—her cell.
She blinked at the guy. The right side of her face throbbed. “C-call who?”
His blue eyes narrowed to slits. “Your lover, lady. Call your bastard of a lover.”
Blake. She licked her lips. “I don’t exactly have his number.” It was embarrassing to admit that she’d slept with a man, and she didn’t even have his number—embarrassing, even under these bizarre circumstances.
A muscle flexed along the blond’s jaw, and the guy lunged toward her. They were pretty much nose-to-nose, a
nd she could clearly see the fury in his gaze. “You don’t want to fuck with me.”
“No, I don’t,” Jess said with absolute certainty because fucking with him was so not on her agenda. But then again, kidnapping hadn’t been on her to-do list either—and look where she was.
“Call him!” Spittle flew from his mouth.
“Give me his number!” Jess heard herself shouting right back to him. “And I will!”
“I saw you with him,” the man snarled at her.
Oh, crap, was he talking about the window of the hotel? The sex in the middle of the night? Because then she—
“You were in that elevator with him. You were going up to his private suite at the Landon Hotel. You helped to save the bastard.”
The fear in her belly blossomed even more. “You were the shooter.” The one who’d escaped before Blake’s men could apprehend him.
The fellow backed away, and she realized that his left shoulder appeared bulky. Maybe because there was a bandage under the fabric of his shirt?
His fingers slid over the phone’s screen. “You’re going to call Blake Landon—
“I don’t have the—”
“I’ll give you the damn number!”
Jess tensed.
“You’re going to call him, and you’re going to say that you need to see him. I’ll tell you a location, and you’ll get him to come and meet you.” He smirked at her. “Invite the guy over for sex, and I’m sure he’ll come running. He seemed hot enough for you in the bar last night.”
That was last night. “If Blake comes, wh-what are you going to do?”
“My business.” Flat.
Her gaze darted to the phone, then back to his face. “You’re going to kill him.” That was the only thing that made sense to her. The guy was using her as bait to lure in Blake. Once Blake took the bait, he’d be dead. “You tried to shoot him last night, and you’re going to try and kill him again.”
His eyes had narrowed to chips of blue ice. “If you don’t make the fucking call, I will slice your throat open and watch you bleed out—and I’ll be smiling even as you fight to live just a few more precious seconds.”
Nausea clenched her stomach. He’ll kill me after he kills Blake. “This was supposed to be my honeymoon,” Jess heard herself mumble. “I was going to get married here in Vegas. Then we were going to gamble and see magic shows.” Tears stung her eyes. “I wasn’t supposed to die here.”
The blond frowned at her. “You were marrying Landon? That’s even fucking better!”
“No.” She swallowed to try and ease the pain in her chest. The pain that came from knowing—I’m going to die. “I was going to marry a guy named Joe, but I caught him screwing around on me with my best friend. I came out to Vegas by myself. I wanted some excitement.”
His brows rose. “Looks like you found it.”
No. She’d found death. Because she was not going to let this crazy asshole use her. “I don’t think Sin City was for me.”
He leaned toward her. The blade of a knife pressed to her throat. “It’s time for the call.”
A tear slipped down her cheek. She hadn’t been able to blink that one away. “Yes,” she whispered. “It is…”
He put the phone to her ear. She heard the low sound of a ring. One. Two…
Maybe Blake wouldn’t even pick up. Maybe he wouldn’t answer her call at all.
Three rings.
If he didn’t pick up, then she didn’t have to make a choice.
His life.
“Hello?” Blake’s voice—slightly annoyed and rasping—drifted over the line.
Jess squeezed her eyes shut.
His life. Or mine.
There was no reason for them both to die.
Jess forced herself to speak. “Blake, I-it’s me.” Oh, crap. He probably didn’t even remember her. Like he was going to recognize that strangled whisper. “It’s Jess.”
The blade pressed harder against her throat.
Her eyes flew open.
The blond glared down at her. “Tell him to meet you.”
“Jess?” Shock was clear in Blake’s voice. “Where are you?”
The blond’s glare vanished. He’d obviously heard Blake’s words. The blond pulled the phone from her ear, only to bend and put his mouth in its place. When the jerk spoke, his lips pressed against the shell of her ear. “Tell him to come and meet you at the old motel just past Wicked Ink. Your lover knows the tat shop.”
Wicked Ink. She knew that tattoo shop, too—most people did. If she’d been braver, Jess would have even gone in and gotten herself inked during her I’m-Wild-And-in-Vegas trip.
But she’d been too afraid of a little pain.
His mouth was gone. The phone was back at her ear.
“Jess?” Blake’s snarl. “Answer me!”
“I wanted a tattoo,” she heard herself say. “Something sexy. Maybe right on my ass.”
“What?”
And the blond was back to glaring at her.
“I wanted one, but I was scared of the pain. A needle doesn’t seem so scary now, not when it’s compared to a knife.”
And that knife sliced across her throat.
Jess cried out.
“Jess!” Her name wasn’t a snarl anymore. It was a roar.
But the psycho hadn’t cut her so deeply that she couldn’t talk. He’d just given her a little slice. A taste of the pain to come. He probably thought that move would scare her into complying with him.
Jess lowered her lashes. Tried to look beaten and afraid.
She’d made her choice.
“I’m supposed to tell you…meet me at the old motel near the tat shop, past Wicked Ink, but…” She sucked in a deep breath. “But don’t come here, Blake. The crazy jerk who tried to shoot you has me. If you come, he’ll kill—”
The crazy jerk snatched the phone from her. He threw it against the wall and it shattered. “Bad fucking move.”
No, it hadn’t been.
He lifted the knife. She could already see her blood on the blade.
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t my smartest move.
But it had been her bravest. There wouldn’t be much more bravery from her. The knife lowered, and Jess started screaming.
***
“Jess?”
He’d heard her scream. That last, pain-filled cry. Then…silence.
Blake immediately tried to call her back, hitting the number that had appeared on his screen. But the line just rang and rang.
I’m supposed to tell you…meet me at the old motel near the tat shop, past Wicked Ink.
She was supposed to tell him?
But don’t come here, Blake. The crazy jerk who tried to shoot you has me. If you come, he’ll kill—
Jess hadn’t been able to say more.
And the line was still fucking ringing.
He forced his hold to loosen around the phone. Fury beat inside of him, threatening to break free. But he held tight—so tight—to his control. Blake turned and walked out of his suite. Every muscle in his body was tight as he entered the elevator.
The damn elevator moved too slowly.
I can smell strawberries.
On his skin. On him. Her scent seemed to cover him.
The elevator’s doors opened. He headed straight for the hotel’s lobby.
“Sir!” It was Carson’s voice, and Blake saw Carson hurrying toward him. “I wanted to report on the…” Carson’s dark gaze cut around the lobby, “the situation at the Landon Hotel.”
“I’m handling it.” He brushed by Carson and headed outside.
But Carson wasn’t one to be easily dissuaded. Carson followed right on Blake’s heels. “Sir, it looks as if the intruder searched inside your suite. I don’t think we’re just talking about an attack on your life. The man wanted something—”
“He still wants something.” Blake’s car was waiting a few feet away. “And the bastard thinks that he is going to use Jess in order to get it.”
; “What?” Carson jumped in front of him. “What are you talking about?”
Blake still had the phone in his left hand. He lifted it toward Carson. “Jess just called me. She was screaming. That bastard has her, and I’m going to get her back.”
Carson stared down at the phone. “The woman from last night?”
“Yes. Jess.” She wasn’t just some woman. She wasn’t a random fuck. She’s not like the others. “He’s got her. And I’m getting her back.”
But when Blake stepped toward his car, Carson moved to block his path. “You need to calm the hell down, boss. This isn’t like you. Just tell me where the woman is, and I’ll get a team out there. There’s no way I can let you risk yourself like this. Especially not over some—”
He shoved Carson out of his way. “Be very careful, Carson. Very careful, or I’ll forget the fact that I’ve considered you a friend for the last two years.” His breath seemed to burn in his lungs.
Control. Get it the fuck back.
Because, dammit, Carson was right. This wasn’t Blake. He didn’t run off wild. Well, he hadn’t, not in years. Not since he’d learned to keep his emotions under lockdown. Not since he’d traded in his dark past for the new life he’d made for himself.
“They’re at the old motel past Wicked Ink…” He knew the tat parlor well. He’d gotten his ink done there. “I go in, and a team can be there for back-up.”
Worry etched deep lines onto Carson’s face. “You go in, and you could be dead before that back-up ever gets through the door.” He ran a hand over his jaw. “This is some girl you picked up last night. She’s not worth your life. We need the cops on this one. Dammit man, this is crossing the line.”
Fury rose within him once more. “You don’t know what Jess is worth.” Blake didn’t, either, but he was starting to figure it out. “If the kidnapper sees the cops, he’ll kill her.”
Carson’s breath heaved out. “Then they stay back. You and I will go in—we both go in, got it? And the cops can come in to clean up whatever hell is left when we’re done.”
Whatever hell is left…
There wasn’t going to be much left. Blake thought of the man who’d taken her. If she’s dead, asshole, then so are you. So the fuck are you.
Wicked Firsts Page 23
