by Lori Foster
What the fuck. He didn’t want her getting all moon-eyed in front of the others. “I have a vested interest in Brett’s well-being.”
“Of course you do.” And it was plain to everyone that she was placating him.
“For the love of—”
Audrey said, “Brett can stay with me.” And then, clearly flustered by her hopeful enthusiasm, she added to Brett, “That is . . . if you want to.”
Brett’s indulgent gaze warmed on her face, and he gave her a quick hug. “We’ll see.”
Huh. So maybe he needed to make nicey-nice with Ms. Porter, since it looked like she and Brett were an item.
He didn’t have time to think about that much before Gillian said, “Drew, do you suppose—?”
“That the fire could be the work of a crazy little bitch, hell-bent on destruction?” He didn’t have any doubts. “Fucking-A.”
Brett scowled and, instead of warning him about his language, asked, “What are you talking about?”
“Ms. Millie Christian,” Gillian announced. “You know the photographer who was lurking around Drew’s house? Well, it was a stolen car that ran him down and killed him. The car was found torched near the river. And now someone torches a building? That’s a lot of coincidence.”
Audrey paled, and Drew couldn’t help but notice.
He sympathized with her. She obviously felt some sense of responsibility for all the trouble. “Sorry, Audrey, I know Millie is a friend of yours, but I think she’s the one behind all this, including the bomb threat.”
With a hand to her stomach, Audrey asked, “You really think Millie would do all those things?”
“Or have it done.” Drew gave them all the facts he had, including Millie’s rap sheet and history of violence. Things were fast spiraling out of his control. Fuck being calm. Drew knew he had to do something before someone got killed.
Gillian said, “She’s the one who leaked the story on Brett, isn’t she?”
Brett cupped his hand around Audrey’s nape, but spoke to Drew. “I assumed it was you, Drew. You made no bones about wanting to sensationalize my past.”
“If I’d done it, it wouldn’t have been behind your back.” He was not a chickenshit who couldn’t face up to his own decisions. “But I told you I wouldn’t, and I might not be Prince Charming, but I don’t lie.”
Looking dead on her feet, Audrey said, “That’s my fault, too. I was only trying to make Millie realize why someone like Gillian shouldn’t be singled out as a target. I wanted her to understand how hurtful that could be.” She rubbed tired, red eyes. “I guess what I said was enough to make her want to start digging. I’m so sorry.”
Brett lifted her chin. “You couldn’t have known she was so . . . unwell.”
Drew snorted. “I knew she was a fanatic zealot from day one. And a shitty reporter, too.”
“Drew.” Gillian slapped his chest, saying in a harsh whisper, “Knock it off.”
He looked at Audrey, so downcast and guilty, and Brett, so disgusted at having his private life flung out there for the masses.
Shit.
It’d be best to get things back on track.
“So, Audrey, I was thinking we should call a truce with WAVS. Maybe work through our differences and all that. What do you say?”
“I wish I could.” Mouth twisting with derision, she admitted, “I was . . . ah, escorted out of the meeting earlier today and told not to return. Millie sort of took over.”
Brett propped his hands on his hips. “That organization is important to you.”
She licked her lips. “Not as important as you.”
Brett looked flattered, but Drew thought, Screw that. “The group isn’t going away, and you now know that Millie’s not rational, right?”
“Apparently not,” Audrey said.
“So don’t you think you should regain control of it?”
Brett said, “It is your organization, Audrey.”
She put back her shoulders and looked between Drew and Brett. “If I still run it, my goals would have to be the same.”
“Meaning?” Drew asked.
“I’d want people to be aware of my objection to all violent sports.”
Brett held her shoulders. “And like I keep telling you, no one minds that.”
She licked her lips. “I’d want to lobby for extra precautions in all the fight clubs.”
“The SBC already uses every precaution,” Drew said. “But you should feel free to harangue other organizations.”
She glanced between the men. “I’d want every effort made to keep the athletes safe, too.”
“Guaranteed,” Drew told her. “So if we get down to it, it’s the personal attacks and distortion of facts that we agree are wrong, right?”
“Definitely.”
Drew nodded. “Not a problem. With Gillian’s help—”
Gillian looked startled. “What?”
“—I’ll check things on my end.” He hugged Gillian when she started to protest. “So what about you, Audrey? Can you get WAVS to stick to the facts?”
Brett brought her attention to him. “If you walk away now, you allow the group to stand as is, and that makes you no different from them.”
Brows raised at Brett’s vehemence, Drew nodded at him. “What he said.”
“I’ll do my best,” Audrey promised.
“I know just how to get things started,” Gillian said, jumping in to lighten the mood. “Join us on another press conference.”
Since Drew wanted to take Gillian back to Vegas, not instigate more business, he wasn’t keen on that idea. “Right now?”
She flapped a hand at him. “It’s easy for you and you know it. You have incredible influence.”
Drew smiled. “I’ve created a PR monster.”
Gillian put her hand over his mouth. A bold move, but then, Drew liked it when she was bold.
“It’s the easiest, most efficient way to convey accurate data,” Gillian stated. “With Drew’s connections, you could reach a lot of people, Audrey, including followers of your group, which will make it easier to reorganize. State your case with our blessing. We’ll make it clear that we want to take your group’s concerns into consideration and work with you on resolving them.”
“We will?” Drew asked around her fingers.
He was ignored.
“All right. I’d like that.” Audrey looked at Brett. “Because of my brother, this will always be an issue with me.”
“I know. I get that.” He smoothed back her hair. “Standing up for your convictions is an important part of you, Audrey, a part that I love.”
Love? Damn, now both of Drew’s brows shot up. So Brett was in love with the girl? He hadn’t quite seen that one coming. The fighters rarely wanted for female attention. Most who were Brett’s age cared more about playing the field.
But from the beginning, he’d known that Brett was different. More focused.
Audrey still stood there staring at Brett with enormous eyes and parted lips.
Drew leaned in toward Brett and said sotto voce, “I don’t think she quite got it.”
Brett grinned. “Then I guess I should be more blunt.” He cupped her face. “I’m falling in love with you, Audrey.”
She blinked hard and threw herself against him. “I’m already in love with you.”
Drew nudged Gillian, but she made a point of studying her nails. Knowing she was never obtuse, he scowled.
Audrey said, “I’m so sorry, Brett. I had a lot of misconceptions on the sport, and the athletes.”
He lifted her off her feet in a tighter hug. “We’re all part and parcel with our backgrounds, honey. There’s no separating it. There’s only dealing with it.”
“And we’ll all deal better together.” Gillian looped her arm through Drew’s, clearly pleased with the outcome. “We’ll create a united front to put a stop to the hostility before someone gets seriously hurt.”
As Brett released Audrey, she smiled and turned to Gillian. “I
would appreciate that very much. Thank you.”
“Great,” Drew said. “One down, one to go.”
Brett put a hand on his hip, looked down at the ground, and waited.
Drew got right to the point. “I still think your circumstances make one hell of a draw, but only with your involvement and approval. I wouldn’t go behind your back to do the story any other way. If you say no—”
“I say no.”
Damn. But he’d expected no less, especially now that Millie Christian had thrown things in such a bad light. “Then that’s it,” Drew agreed. “Done. But I still want you at the SBC.”
Brett let out a breath and shrugged. “At this point, no matter what organization I go to, someone is going to question my past. I might as well stay where I most want to be.”
“Fair enough.” Drew couldn’t help but grin as he reached out for Brett’s hand in a gentleman’s agreement. “You should know that I did a press conference before coming here, and when someone asked about you, I stuck with one line, and one line only.”
“What’d you say?”
“That you are one hell of a fighter and I was going to do my best to sign you with the SBC. You already know that won’t stop people from asking, but I’ve never had a problem ignoring questions I don’t want to answer.”
Brett’s smile was slow. “I’m sure you don’t.”
“But,” Drew continued, “I want you both to know that the main purpose of the press conference was for me to rip Ms. Christian to shreds.” He held up his hands before they could question him. “I figured it was the easiest way to draw her out and to get her focus back on me instead of you.”
“Do you think it worked?” Audrey asked.
Drew opened his mouth—and a rifle blast sounded. Everyone jumped as a shot slammed into the brick face of the building, sending shards to pepper the air only inches from Drew’s head.
Oh, yeah, he’d drawn her fire back on him—literally.
It’d be nice if he lived to tell about it.
GILLIAN gave a short scream as Drew dove on her, driving her down to the ground and covering as much of her body as he could with his own. The next bullet grazed his upper arm, making him curse in burning pain. He shoved Gillian’s head down when she tried to raise up to check on him.
Fumbling, he half crawled, half dragged her over behind a parked car, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. With a hand on the back of her neck, keeping her pinned down, he fished in his pocket for his cell phone and finally got it out.
“What in the world are you doing?” Gillian gasped.
Into the phone, Drew barked, “Where the hell are you, Marcus?”
Sounding winded and excited, the investigator said, “I just conked her on the head with a fucking rock. It’s all I had available. She’s out cold now.” He wheezed in a breath. “Everyone okay?”
Drew dropped to his back beside Gillian. God Almighty, that crazy bitch had nearly done him in.
Immediately Gillian crawled up and over him. “Drew!” She sounded shrill and panicked and . . . concerned. “Oh, my God, you’re bleeding!”
“I’m okay,” he told her, but his fucking arm was fast growing numb.
She smacked him on his uninjured shoulder. “Are you out of your mind?”
Remembering, Drew jerked up and around and saw that Brett had Audrey caught down low against the building and was shielding her with his back. Thank God he hadn’t been the target, because he was still fully exposed.
Drew yelled, “It’s okay, Brett. My investigator has her now.”
“Her?” Brett asked, not really moving much.
“None other than Millie Christian.” And this time, she’d gone way too far. She’d finally be out of his life, once and for all. “Call the cops, will you? Ask for Officer Sparks.”
Brett eased up from covering Audrey. He looked at Drew, saw the blood, and cursed. He was on his phone in a heartbeat, still keeping Audrey tucked behind him, just in case.
Drew went back to his call. “Cops are on the way, Marcus. Don’t take your eyes off her. I mean it. Sit on her if you have to.”
“Her head’s bleeding real bad,” the investigator said with a sort of disinterested observation. “I might’ve hit her harder than I meant to. It’s dark as hell up here and I was trying to be quiet, when suddenly she started shooting. I had to lunge to reach her.”
But thank God he had. “Don’t worry about it, Marcus. You did what you had to do.” Hopefully Millie would recover, because Drew wanted to see her sorry ass behind bars.
The only saving grace to any of this was that his ploy had worked: he’d been the target. Not Brett or Audrey and, thank God, not Gillian.
With an effort, Drew sat up more and, thinking of what could have happened, he tucked Gillian into his side with his uninjured arm. She fought him and got free enough to take off her wrap. Big tears swam in her eyes, but they didn’t fall. Her face had gone pale, and when he’d tackled her to the ground, he’d knocked the careful chignon from her hair.
“Dear God, Drew,” she mumbled in a shaky voice that still sounded pissed.
He held her off when she would have started messing with his arm. It hurt enough without her help.
“Where are you, anyway?” he asked Marcus.
“Half a block down, on the roof of a convenience store. I saw Christian climb up, and I figured she’d be spying on you or calling in another bomb threat or something, so I followed.” He sounded almost admiring when he said, “She’s a crack shot with a rifle.”
Drew looked at his arm, now steadily oozing blood and throbbing like a son of a bitch. “Thank God she’s not quite perfect, or I’d be dead.” That sentiment brought the tears in Gillian’s eyes spilling over. “Stay put, Marcus, you got that? I’ll send the cops to you.”
“We’re not going anywhere.”
Drew hung up, saw Gillian shaking like a leaf, and decided he’d better man up before she fell apart. “Calm down, Gillian. I’m fine.”
“You are not fine, you are shot! What were you thinking to use yourself as a shield?”
“I didn’t want you hurt,” he told her simply. And he smoothed a long, silky tendril of hair away from her face.
Her mouth worked twice before words came out, all wrapped up in tears and hysteria. “You stupid, stupid man, you were almost killed!”
He knew it was the residual fear making her sound like a nag. Nodding toward Brett, Drew said, “He did the same thing as me. Why aren’t you bitching at him?”
“Because he . . . you . . .”
Drew didn’t quite plan it, but seeing her like this, knowing she damn well cared or she wouldn’t be so upset, he said, “I love you, too.”
She gasped so hard she landed back on her ass. When Drew just grinned at her, she held her breath a second, then started breathing hard and fast. Finally she said, “Damn you, Drew Black.”
“I love you, Gillian.”
She sobbed once, hiccuped, and then used a sleeve to dry her eyes. “What are you doing to me?”
Very slowly, trying to pretend that fire wasn’t burning through his arm, Drew leaned in and kissed her. “I don’t know, but I want to do it for the rest of our lives.”
She covered her face, nodded.
Drew waited, but when he heard the sirens approaching, he said, “Woman, I really wish you’d tell me that you love me, too.”
Nodding hard, she dropped her hands. “I do.” She touched his face with trembling hands. “I love you.”
Feeling light-headed, Drew stretched out on his back on the ground. “Huh. That was almost worth getting shot, just to hear you say it.”
OFFICER Sparks was on the scene, directing everyone with efficient authority. Brett slumped down on the ground next to Audrey. It had been one hell of a day. Not only had his past caught up to him, but everything he owned was now gone.
Except for his cat.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against a brick wall. When he thought of Audrey going
into that old house . . . His hands curled into fists and his jaw tightened. The building had probably gone up like dry leaves, it was so old and so badly maintained.
Audrey sat silently beside him, still sad, probably exhausted. She, too, had been through the wringer.
Early in life, he’d learned how easy it was to walk away when things weren’t to his liking. When his father left, he’d rejoiced. When his mom sank so low that she’d become a stranger to him, he’d blocked out any hurt and written her from his life. He’d worked hard to be the person he wanted to be, polite, educated, above the trash that had been his environment. But he’d never gotten so closely connected to another human being that he or she mattered. He’d never wanted to care to the point that he couldn’t walk away.
With Audrey . . .
He turned his head to look at her. “You really don’t mind if I stay with you?”
Burdened with uncertainty, she said, “I would like it very much.”
Brett nodded. “Okay. Thanks.” He stood and held a hand out for her. After he helped her back to her feet, he just stood there, looking at her, marveling at how she’d captured so much of him, so soon, when he’d never thought it possible.
He turned to look around at the chaos. Poor Roger was beside himself. Too much had happened at his establishment for his peace of mind. Simon Evans and Dean Conor stood talking to him. Off to the side, Gregor and his wife stood talking to Dickey Thompson.
It seemed no matter what, Roger’s place would remain the hangout.
Both Drew and Millie were taken away by ambulance, Millie unconscious, Drew bitching up a storm. Gillian, bless her, was about to follow.
“Come on.” Brett took Audrey’s hand and hustled her along with him. Not for anything did he want to let her out of his sight. Bullets and fires and lunatics . . . he had to keep her close for his own peace of mind.
“Where are we going?”
He nodded toward Gillian. “She’s a mess. She shouldn’t try driving herself to the hospital.”
Audrey agreed, and even freed herself from Brett to run ahead and catch Gillian before she got in her car.
Gillian’s relief was palpable. She hugged Audrey and agreed. Even from a short distance, Brett could see her shaking, and there was no mistaking the mascara tracks left by her tears.
