by Jaycee Clark
"Miss Bills," Laurence said, "can you walk us through what happened? From the beginning?"
The coffee cup jerked in her hand, and she leaned up to set it on the coffee table, but hissed at the pull in her ribs. Brayden took it and set it aside.
"I’ll try," she told them.
"What happened when you came home?" Laurence asked.
Again she took a deep breath and started her story. Jerky at first, but smoother as the words came forth. She gave them what details she could without revealing too much.
"You pulled the knife on him? From your own kitchen?" Gabe asked her.
She nodded.
"At any time during this encounter did you recognize him?" he asked.
Christian looked down at her fisted hand. Until she knew what proof they had, it would do her no good.
No good, except endanger those she loved. She’d gone to the police before, but there had been no proof and what little there was had strangely disappeared. No, she had to wait. She couldn’t risk the Kinncaids. ...Brayden and his little girl...
She closed her eyes and cleared her throat. "N-no. He was-he wore one of those black ski masks. I could see his eyes." She could tell them that. "He had green eyes."
Scribbles filled the air from the two cops taking notes.
"What about hair color and build?"
She answered as best she could, detailed, yet vague.
"Okay, you grabbed the knife, then what happened?"
Her hand shook in Brayden’s and he tightened his hold on her. Licking her lips, she started again. With each word, she was aware of the man next to her tightening, coiling his energies ready to strike out.
"That’s it. That’s all I remember," she said.
"How long do you think you were unconscious?" Laurence asked softly.
The cold had settled in her bones again, and Christian could feel the tremors start. "I-I don’t know. I don’t know." Then she thought. "Long enough for him to do this." She ran a hand through her hair.
"All right, and as a bottle woman myself, I’d say that took at least twenty to thirty minutes. The sedative he gave you was more than likely for that purpose alone."
Christian didn’t look at the woman, just held onto Brayden’s hand.
"Then what?" Gabe asked her.
"I don’t know. I don’t know what he did to me while I-while I... When I couldn’t." She took a deep shuddering breath and wiped a tear from her cheek. "When I w-woke up. Things were foggy, fuzzy. I couldn’t focus." She blew the breath out and whispered, "I-I was already.... He’d already.... I was tied down."
She brought her free hand up to shade her eyes, cursing the fear that roared like a clawing beast within her and the trembling of her voice.
"Did he say anything?"
Did he say anything? Oh, he said a whole hell of a lot. But she couldn’t tell them all that. Instead, she said, "I don’t-I don’t wan-want to talk about this anymore, please."
She bit down and wished the tears would stop.
Brayden pulled her close and she felt his lips against her head. Even as she stiffened.
"I don’t want to talk about this anymore," she whispered into his chest.
The phone rang and she jerked, then moaned as pain shot from her bruised ribs.
"Aiden, grab the phone!" Brayden hollered.
It rang again and she only started.
"I’m sure it’s Mom wanting to know--" Aiden started.
"No!" Christian yelled, pushing back from Brayden, as Aiden reached to answer it. "No," she repeated shaking her head. "I don’t want her to know. Not yet. Not yet. Please,"
Aiden looked at her as the phone rang a third time. "I won’t tell her, honey. Not if you don’t want me to."
"No, please."
"Just let the machine get it, then you won’t have to lie to her," Brayden volunteered.
The machine clicked.
Silence.
Then a sigh.
"The mouse ran to, and the mouse ran fro. Crying and squeaking: which way, which way. Didn’t matter, and the cat only smiled. For it was a fun game that the cat did play."
She could hear the smile in his calm voice. The trembles shook her and she gasped for breath.
No. No. She shook her head back and forth.
She heard Gabe, "Don’t answer that!" Saw Aiden freeze at the edge of her vision, and felt Brayden tighten his hold on her.
"Tell me, did you like our game? Such a luscious body you still have." He tsked. "I thought it ended much too soon. Till next time, my dear."
Brayden leapt off the couch. Christian alone, heard that evil chuckle fill this safe place.
Slapping her hands over her ears, she squeezed her eyes tight and rocked.
He couldn’t hurt her, she was strong, she was strong.
Brayden wretched the phone up. "You’re dead you sonofabitch. You better pray I never find you..."
The man laughed in his ear. "Such passion." Silence settled between them.
"She is mine, Mr. Kinncaid. Mine. She always has been and she always will be. I’ll kill her before I let anyone else have her."
Brayden looked at the woman he loved rocking on the couch, curled into herself as if warding off a blow. "Over my dead body."
The man laughed. "That too can be arranged." The line clicked in his ear.
Brayden swore and threw the phone across the hall. His eyes met Aiden’s.
"We’ll find him," Aiden promised. He jerked his head toward the couch. "Get her out of here and go home. I’ll call the car downstairs for you."
Brayden walked to the couch and leaned down. Carefully, he picked her up and cradled her against his chest, feeling her body shake. He heard Quinlan and Aiden talking, their voices mixing with Morris’ and Laurence’s.
Aiden walked with them to the elevators. "I’ll take your car on ahead and explain things. You two take the limo. You don’t need to worry about driving and she needs you."
Brayden nodded. The rest of the ride was silent save for Christian’s hurried breath against his chest.
If anyone looked at a large man carrying a woman in his arms across the lobby of the hotel and out the front doors, Brayden didn’t notice. At the long black car, Aiden held up a little white bag. "Laurence gave me this. Pain killers and a new inhaler." He tossed it into the interior of the limo, then said something to their driver, Tom, while Brayden maneuvered them both into the car without releasing Christian.
Doors shut and the car pulled away from the hotel. Brayden held Christian in his arms as the lights of D.C. slid past their windows.
She was burrowed into him. At a light, he leaned over and retrieved a bottle of ginger ale. Without moving her, he jostled one of the white oblong pills out.
"Here, baby. You need this."
"Can-can’t. Doctor said four hours. Drugs in my system. Concussion."
Why in the hell wasn’t she in the hospital.
"You should be at Sibley."
"No!" Her hand shook as it covered his with the pill. "Please. I hate those places. Please."
"Okay. Okay, whatever you want." Since Mom was a doctor and so was Gavin and he figured they were both out at the house, he wouldn’t press her.
He put the pill in its bottle and held the ginger ale up to her lips and watched as she took a drink. Pulling back, hissing, her tongue darted out to lick the cut on her lip.
"He knows, he knows everything," she murmured, curling up in his lap.
"It doesn’t matter." Brayden held her close, yet loosely. "It doesn’t matter. He’s never getting near you again."
Let the bastard come. Brayden wanted the man. Wanted to rip the monster apart piece by slow piece. It didn’t matter how damn long it took. One day, he’d find the sonofabitch, and when he did, he’d make the cretin beg for mercy long and hard before he finished with him.
No one, but no one hurt the woman he loved and got away with it.
CHAPTER NINE
Aiden Kinncaid, the eldest of his brothers,
tapped the steering wheel and waited for his phone to ring.
He’d left in front of the limo, driving Brayden’s Hummer.
Come on, Ian, call.
Ian Kinncaid was their disowned brother, though still for reasons unknown to Aiden. As far as most knew, Ian had no contact with the family. But Aiden knew differently, and had for years. There was a number to call when things came up. Never names given, at least not until Ian called back.
Aiden didn’t ask exactly what his brother did, he figured he was probably better off not knowing. But, he had a feeling, maybe something in the government, or even, God forbid a mercenary. Occupation aside, Ian was a Kinncaid, and Kinncaids stuck together.
The phone rang. Aiden jabbed the TALK button and spoke into the hands-free-headset, while he maneuvered through traffic heading out of D.C.
"Yeah."
"What the hell is going on now?" Ian’s resigned voice asked.
"It’s pretty bad," he told him, taking the Seneca exit.
"What? Who? Dad?"
"No, Christian." Aiden sighed, ground his teeth. "Someone broke into her condo and tried to rape her."
"What?" Ian asked.
He took a deep breath. "Some sonofabitch almost raped our sister."
Ian cursed. At first Aiden heard French expletives, but then he thought there might have been German and Russian thrown in. The last of the obscenities was muffled and beyond him.
"Explain," Ian said, his voice different, cold and hard.
"I don’t know that I can explain. She’s been acting off lately. None of us thought much of it, what with her and Brayden’s..." How to explain that one? "Relationship thing."
Trees were a darkened blur on the roadside. Headlights came and whizzed passed.
"Anyway, she’s been getting some strange phone calls. I don’t know what all went on, but apparently the guy...." He bit down.
"Is she okay? I mean he didn’t..."
"No, she’s not okay, he roughed her up pretty bad. Granted it could have been worse." He flicked on the blinker and turned into his parent’s drive. "Then the bastard called the hotel room. Left a message. All hell broke loose. I’ve never seen Bray like this. Not even with the Fisher incident." And that had been bad. For over a day they couldn’t find Tori or her cousin Ryan when they’d been kidnapped. Brayden and Gavin, the twins, had been beside themselves trying to find their kids.
A sigh came over the phone. "Tell him I’ll call. I need some more details. I’ll call in the morning, or later tonight. Hell, I don’t know. I’ll be in touch."
"Ian, he wants this guy found." Aiden pulled to a stop in the drive and checked the rearview. It wouldn’t be long before Brayden and Christian got here.
A harsh chuckle spiked through the earpiece. "Oh, I’ll find him." Ian’s voice held no quarter of doubt.
"I’ll find him."
With that, the line went dead in his ear. The front door stood open and light flooded out, outlining his mother and father.
How the hell was he going to explain this? He’d called Gavin’s pager earlier so he wouldn’t have to risk Mom or Dad answering the phone. At least one doctor of the family, Gavin, was still here. And Taylor had taken the kids away. He had no idea if his wife, Jesslyn was still there with the twins or if she went home.
Wearily, he climbed from Brayden’s Hummer.
Kaitlyn Kinncaid watched as Brayden’s SUV parked in the circle drive. Her heart thumped against her ribs, and Jock’s hands on her shoulders were a comfort.
"Something’s wrong. Something is very, very wrong," she whispered.
Jock squeezed her shoulders. "Don’t borrow trouble."
At least they were home. She waited, but only one person got out...
Aiden.
Her heart skipped, her stomach twisted and suddenly she didn’t want to know...
His shoes echoed against the stones as he walked up the walk. When he stood close enough, he leaned down and wrapped her in a hug.
"Wh--" She cleared her throat and pulled back. "What’s going on? Where’s Brayden? Where’s Christian?"
He motioned them inside and she got a good look at his face. Harsh, pulled tight and she knew then whatever it was, was bad. He hadn’t looked like that since Colorado.
"Aiden?"
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "I need to tell you all something. Brayden and Christian will be here in a bit and you need to know before they get here."
Without another word, he turned and walked to the living room.
Jock gave her shoulder another squeeze and muttered, "Why they can never just spit it out, is beyond me."
* * * *
The car pulled to a stop in front of the family mansion. Brayden climbed from the car and leaned down, reaching toward her.
Christian shook her head. "No, I’ll walk. I want to walk."
With his hand on her elbow, he helped her up. She really wished she’d taken the Percocet. Pain pulsed through her body. Letting out a long shallow breath, she grabbed his arm and stared at the lighted house before them. She didn’t want to go in. She didn’t want them to see her like this.
"They’re worried, and will be more so since Aiden came on ahead. They’ll need to see you’re all right,"
Brayden said, his voice deep and soft, reading her thoughts.
He was right, but it still didn’t change the fact she wanted to curl up under a mound of covers in a dark room and sleep for a long, long time. Just forget. Pretend it was months ago and life was fine. Pretend it was yesterday morning and do everything over, but she couldn’t.
Finally, she nodded and let him help her along the walk. The night air was cold around them, their breaths clouding in the dark air. By the time they reached the front door, she was trembling. Neither of them had on a coat. Why didn’t Brayden have one? She started to ask him. Some part of her mind told her it didn’t matter, like her boots. But she kept focusing on little, unimportant things that suddenly loomed to monumental proportions.
With one hand he opened the door and helped her inside, quietly shutting it behind him. The soft click of the latch seemed to thunder in the silent entryway.
She could hear voices from the living room. Brayden started to walk her along, but she stopped.
"I-I can’t."
Damn the tears, she could feel them sliding down her cheek. She started to reach up, but Brayden cupped her face, his thumb brushing the wet trail away.
"I’ll be with you."
She closed her eyes and nodded.
Together they walked down the hallway to see their family.
* * * *
Brayden eased her down on the couch. The sky outside blushed with the promise of dawn. Carefully, he tucked the thick blanket around her and stood, simply staring at her.
With one hand, he brushed a lock of hair off her forehead. The rage he’d felt all night bit at his controlled temper.
Quietly, he looked up. His mother stood in the doorway with a cup of coffee.
"I thought you might have talked her into lying down," she whispered as he came closer.
Brayden shook his head. No, Christian had been terrified at the mere mention of lying on a bed. So he’d held her all night on the couch. Tried to calm her and himself as thoughts and images ricocheted through his mind.
His mother sniffled and wiped a tear from her swollen eyes. He leaned over and kissed her cheek.
"Will you watch her for a minute?" he asked. "There’s something I need to do."
She nodded and gave him a smile. "Beat the hell out of it."
His mother knew him too well. Without a backward glance, he left the living room and headed to the private gym at the back of the house.
He didn’t change, he simply ripped his shirt from his pants and tossed it to the side. Nor did he bother to grab a pair of gloves. All he saw was the punching bag, and when he looked at the black leather, all he saw was some faceless bastard. Christian scared. Christian crying. Christian beaten and helpless.
Fury roared through him and he let it loose. His punches sent the heavy bag rolling and spinning and he pummeled it time after time.
Suspicions danced in his head, as they had all night.
She is mine, Mr. Kinncaid. Mine. She always has been and she always will be. I’ll kill her before I let anyone else have her.
Harder and harder, faster and faster. Thump, swing, thump, swing.
...Such a luscious body you still have. Still have...
He stopped, catching the swinging heavy bag.
...always has been... still have...
The bastard knew her. He knew her, or thought he did.
Muttered voices finally pierced the black edged cloud that blinded him to all but his fist connecting with a solid object.
He whirled, his chest heaving, his hands fisted at his sides.
All three of his brothers stood in the doorway staring at him. Aiden obviously decided to brave the wrath and stepped further into the workout room.
The other two followed, and Gavin shut the door.
"We were trying to decide which one of us should be stupid enough to draw your attention," Aiden volunteered. "Quin and I thought it should be Gavin. I mean with his face identical to your own, you might halt before you reared back and knocked him flat."
"I told them that never stopped you before," Gavin quipped.
Brayden didn’t give a shit why they were here. Sweat ran down his back and chest.
He looked down and saw blood on his knuckles and hands.
"How long have you been knocking that thing around?" Gavin asked, coming closer and reaching for one of his hands.
Brayden jerked it back. "Not long enough."
"Did you break anything?"
He shook his head at his twin. "Always the doctor." Flexing his fingers, he winced at the pain that was beginning to spread. "No, they’re fine."
Quinlan handed him a towel.
"What do you want?" he asked without preamble.
"Hell if I know," Quinlan said. "These two knocked on my door and told me to get my ass down here.
