Exposing the Heiress (16 page)

“You wouldn’t be here if she’d had an abortion.”

“She had the role of a lifetime and got knocked up. I wasn’t letting that happen to us. I made sure, having a vasectomy years ago. We were going to be a real power in Hollywood. I would have attained the life that should have been mine. Now I’ll do it another way.” Moving suddenly, he grabbed her arm and yanked her up to her feet.

Gasping at the pain, she tried to break free. Panic exploded and she clawed at him. Tried to fight and escape.

He shook her like a ragdoll.

Stabbing pain ripped through her side. Spots danced in her vision as she struggled to breathe. Before she could recover, he dragged her to the sliding glass door. Sick fear swam in her guts and sweat poured down her back.

At the door, he stopped, grabbed her hair, spun her to face it and jammed the gun to her skull. “Open it.”

Horror climbed up her throat. “What are you doing?” Her fingers tingled and terror locked her lungs.

“You’re going to jump, die on the rocks like you deserve for ruining my life, but the world will think you killed yourself after killing your assistant. It’ll be a bigger story than your mom’s death. Dragon Wing will produce the movie, making us huge and me, your long suffering ex-fiancé, famous. Wealthy. Powerful.”

Hot tears blurred her eyes. “No.”
Fight. Run. Escape.
Alyssa tried to spin to the side, to get away.

Nate slammed the heel of his hand into the back of her head. Her forehead bounced off the window. Pain bloomed in sick waves. She heard a crack.

“Open it.”

Blinking against her tears and helplessness, she fumbled with the latch.
Don’t do it. Fight.
She didn’t want to die. She wanted a chance to beg Hunt to forgive her. She loved him and the tiny life just beginning in her. Finally the catch unlatched.

Warm liquid ran down her face, into her eyes. Blood. Dizziness swirled.
Don’t pass out.

Nate reached around her, shoving open the door and screen.

The pitch-blackness of the night fueled her terror. Death. Five or six steps and he’d force her over the railing. She’d fall into the rocky cliffs.

And die.

She wished she’d told Hunt she loved him.

…

The rollup door to the four-car garage was open, showing Lyssie’s blue Mercedes and Maxine’s bright yellow Mustang.

Wrong.

The Mustang was parked at an angle with the right front headlight kissing Lyssie’s car. Maxine the super-assistant didn’t do anything sloppy. In just a few days, he’d caught on to her perfectionism.

Hunt pulled his gun out of the locked glove box in the Jeep and checked it. After sliding out of the car, he went into the garage. Lyssie’s security lights showed the fresh blood on the garage floor at the front of the Mustang. There were a few spots on the hood too. Blood spatter.

The car door on the passenger side hung open.

Maxine hadn’t come alone. He’d guess she tried to run out of the car and get into the house. Her passenger caught her, hit her and blood spattered.

Madden.
It had to be Madden. Fuck. He must have gotten out. For one crazy second, gut-cramping, sweat-popping fear battled his icy control. He jerked his gaze to the door. Lyssie was in there, and most likely in severe danger. He could fail and lose her. That thought chilled his panic. Training and instinct took over. Pulling out his phone, he texted Coop and Sienna what he knew. They’d call the cops. Hunt had a job to do.

Slipping quietly into the kitchen, he spotted Maxine on the ground. Blood trickled from her nose and lip, staining her skin and coating her blonde hair—she’d taken a punch. Her side bled too. Crouching, he shoved up her shirt to find a ragged gunshot wound. He ripped off his shirt and pressed it to the wound.

Her eyes snapped open and she grabbed his arm. “It’s Nate. Downstairs. Hurry.”

The words were thick and clumsy. From blood loss? Swollen lip? He didn’t know. He met her stare while guiding her hand to the shirt. “Hold this. Stay quiet.” Easy to say, hard to do when she had to be in agony. “Paramedics are coming.”

A tear slid from her eye.

Hunt was going to kill the bastard who shot her. He had to leave her, had to get to Lyssie.

“Go.”

He rose, quickly clearing the main floor despite Maxine telling him they were downstairs. The woman had been in and out of consciousness. He had to do this methodically and carefully. Then he returned and headed into the hallway to the other wing of the house.

Empty.

Halfway down the stairs, he paused where the wall ended and wood railing began. Too quiet. Hunt didn’t let himself feel.
Do the job.
Peering around the wall, the rec room was empty, but the slider was open. Moving down the remaining stairs, he scanned the rest of the room. No sign of Lyssie or Madden. He couldn’t see into the office, his studio or bathroom, but his attention caught on the sliding glass window, spotting the round spider crack spattered with a few drops of blood. Not good. A second later, he heard a male voice. “Let go.”

“Nate! Oh God, don’t do this.”

Lyssie’s shrill, panicked voice unleashed urgency in him. He slid out onto the balcony.

Jesus Christ.

They were at the right corner, where the drop-off was the steepest. Lyssie had somehow climbed over the railing, her toes on the ledge of the balcony, her fingers white-knuckling the round metal railing. One slip, one wrong move…she’d fall to her death.

Blood ran down her face from a gash in her forehead.

Madden stood over her. “Time to die. Let go.” The bastard moved the gun from her face, raising it in the air, his intent obvious. He’d slam it on her fingers.

Lyssie screamed, a wrenching sound of building terror.

Hunt rushed forward, praying he could do this. Gun in his right hand, he aimed at Madden’s head. He had to do this exactly right. Any mistake and Lyssie died. Both turned to him when he was two feet away. Madden began to slam the gun down.

Don’t fail.
Hunt fired, and at the same time he shot his left hand out and latched onto Lyssie’s left wrist.

She lost her grip on the railing, dropped hard.

The sudden vicious jerk cramped his hand and ripped into his shoulder. He heard a snap. Fuck, his shoulder popped out.
Don’t let go!
One look told him Madden was dead. He released his gun and concentrated. Turning, with just enough light coming out of the house, he saw Lyssie hanging over the balcony, only his precarious hold on her keeping her from death.

He caught her other wrist in his right hand. His left arm was losing sensation from the popped shoulder.
Ignore it and hold on.
Relying on his right shoulder, he heaved and tugged, his muscles screaming. Agony burned like a branding iron as he raised her a few inches.

“Get a foot on the ledge.” Sweat poured down his face. Below her was total black darkness trying to take her away from him. Focusing on her face, he took in her eyes wide with terror, her skin streaked with blood and tears. Shock, fear, pain, she wasn’t quite tracking. “Lyssie, I’m here, baby. I won’t let go.”

“You came back.”

No. He wasn’t thinking about how he’d left her right now.
Just get her safe.
“Bend your knees, get your toes on the ledge.” His back pulled and burned, pain snapping and popping. His shoulder was a ball of fiery agony. It took all his control to keep calm. He needed her help to gain leverage to pull her over.

Lyssie did it, getting purchase on the ledge with her feet. Relief poured over him. He tugged her up and dragged her over the railing. Sirens blared in the night. His left arm hung useless at his side, but he wrapped his right arm around her shoulders and guided her inside.

“Nate. He’s dead. His head…” She shivered violently.

Close-range headshots were brutal and she’d seen it. The horror of it, or the blast of his gun, had shocked her into losing her grip.

Would she look at him as Rachel had? As Rand Oliver had? As so many others who feared him, feared what he truly was?

Chapter Seventeen

Alyssa kept her eyes closed against the lights, praying and waiting. The smells and sounds of the hospital penetrated her private room. Extra guards were posted on the floor to protect her from reporters. She didn’t even want to know how the media found out about the attack so quickly.

It was early morning, and misery coated every breath from her bruised ribs. Her head ached thanks to a few stitches and mild concussion. Queasiness came and went.

“Lyssie.”

A warm hand landed on her shoulder. She forced her eyes open. Hunt’s left arm was in a sling from dislocating his shoulder. Fear for her assistant nearly choked her. “How is she?”

“Maxine’s going to make it. They removed her spleen and stopped all the bleeding. She’s in recovery and beginning to wake up. Her mom and brother are with her. Doctors are confident she’s going to be fine.”

“I can’t believe it still.” They were still piecing together what happened. The police had only been able to ask Maxine a couple questions before she’d gone into surgery, but Nate had bonded out, the police would track that money later. Then he caught Maxine before she got into her condo. Nate had some crazy scheme to kill Maxine then Alyssa and convince the world Alyssa had done it all, even planting those pictures on his computer. They’d really never know the full extent of it since Nate was dead.

“Don’t think about it now. Maxine’s going to recover. You need rest, Lyssie. I’ll come back.”

Panic flared. “No. Don’t leave me.” It was out before she could stop it. Hadn’t he done enough? No one could believe that Hunt had simultaneously shot Nate with one hand and caught her with the other. Holding onto her even when his shoulder dislocated. It was impossible. But he’d done it. He hadn’t let her fall.

He’d saved her life and she paid him back by trying to hold onto him.
Enough.
Her throat ached but she had to let him go. Maybe he’d choose to be with her, maybe not, but it was his choice. “Sorry. It’s okay, go on. Is Cooper here? Can you stay with him or Sienna? You shouldn’t be alone with that shoulder.” She wanted to be the one to take care of him, but she had to stay overnight in the hospital.

Then what? Go back to her place? Alone?

Alyssa closed her eyes. Tomorrow she’d be up to it. Ready. She had to be. This was her life, and she was going to have a child, one she would love and care for. Hunt would figure out what role he wanted in the baby’s life. He wouldn’t bail on his child.

The bed dipped, and his hand cupped her cheek. “Lyssie, are you scared? Do you want me to stay with you?”

“Don’t ask me that.” She whispered it, keeping her eyes shut. “Please, it’s okay to leave.”

He rubbed his thumb over her cheek. “I’m asking.”

“Yes.”

Hunt got off the bed, went to her left side. He turned off the overhead light, then slid in and looped his right arm around her, easing her against his side and chest. “I won’t leave you. Sleep.”

She didn’t want to sleep, not yet. Maybe in a month when the memories weren’t so overwhelming. His scent and warmth penetrated her cold loneliness, easing her. This was what she needed, the comfort of Hunt, but she had to be fair to him. “I need you right now. I’ll be stronger tomorrow. If this is over between us, I’ll handle it, I promise.”

He didn’t say anything.

She was safe with him, even if for a few hours.

“Do you want it to be over?”

Her eyes snapped open. With her hand on his stomach, she felt his tension through the T-shirt he’d acquired somehow. When he’d appeared over that balcony tonight, he’d been bare-chested, his tats gleaming. Soft hospital sounds floated in through the closed door, but all she could feel was Hunt. “No. Why would you think that?”

He exhaled, some of the tension melting in his stomach muscles. “You saw me kill him.”

Her eyes stung at the sad, almost resigned words. He thought she would be afraid of him now. “You saved my life. It was a terrible thing to see him shot, Hunt. I’ll probably have nightmares.” She didn’t want to think about it, wasn’t ready. She had a tiny fragment of an idea now of why Hunt had repressed so much while doing his job as a sniper. How did someone process that and keep functioning at such a high level of skill? She’d seen up close what he was capable of tonight—extreme speed and precision.

“When I saw you, I was…” The sensation of no matter how bad the moment was, if he was there, it was better. “Suddenly there was hope because my hero was there, the one man who I know I can count on. The one man who I can look into his eyes and feel safe. Even after he had to shoot a man in front of me.” She was talking too fast, causing her ribs to hurt, but she wanted to make him understand. “I was grateful. If I didn’t live, I’d still have known you cared enough to come back. For once, I was worth coming back for.” He hadn’t just walked away.

Her mom had left her. Scott had left her. Her stepfather wouldn’t even look at her.

Hunt, his parents, and Erin had vanished.

She’d been alone. No one ever came back. Oh, logically, Lyssie understood her mom hadn’t wanted to die, that Hunt had been in the Middle East serving his country, and she’d pushed away Erin and her mom, but in her heart she’d felt abandoned and unworthy, as if she were being punished for making mistakes that caused her mom’s death.

She admitted her deepest fear. “You came back even after I made a mistake.”

“Damn, Lyssie.” He stroked her hair. “I should never have walked out. I had every right to be pissed, but walking out on you was chicken shit. I realized it pretty quick and was returning.”

“Hunt, I’m sorry.” She wasn’t going to make excuses. She should have told him she was pregnant, not lied about her reason for going to the doctor.

“I know. It wasn’t the lie, Lyssie. You were scared to tell me. I can’t deal with that. I need to be the man you run to, not from, when you’re scared.”

She closed her eyes at the impact of his words. Wasn’t that what a relationship was? “Okay. I get it, and for the record, I wasn’t scared of you. I was scared of losing you, scared you’d believe I got pregnant on purpose.”

“Yeah, I said that, didn’t I? Once I had a second to think—I remembered we both forgot the condom that first night we had sex. A child has two parents and both are responsible.”

“How do you feel about a baby?”

He was silent for nearly a minute. “I don’t know, it’s not real yet, but I know that I feel strongly about you. We’re not making any decisions right now. It’s going to be a rough few weeks as you heal, deal with your feelings about what happened tonight and eventually you’ll have to sleep. I’ll be there if you’re scared.”

Of course he knew she was avoiding sleep, so afraid she’d see it again. Being forced over the railing…right up to the point when Hunt appeared. Then shot Nate—that picture was seared into her brain. “How do you do it?”

“What?”

“Live with the memories.”

He took a deep breath. “Sculpting helps. It gives me a safe place to vent the emotions. Some of us get professional help, but I couldn’t talk about it. At least not then.” He paused, gently nudging her face up. “Until you. I’ve been able to talk to you, and that has made a huge difference.”

It was dark in the room, she couldn’t really see his eyes, but she could feel the connection between them like a living, breathing thing. “Are you really afraid you’ll lose control, hurt someone or worse? Because I don’t see it, Hunt. I know I didn’t see it in Nate either—”

“Wrong. You saw it that day in his office and elevator, and then you acted. Before that, I agree, you didn’t see it or didn’t want to, but once you did, you acted.”

That made her feel better, like maybe she’d had a little power over the whole nightmare. It made her feel stronger. “Thank you, but I still don’t see it in you.”

He was quiet, stroking her hair and cheek, touching her in a way that didn’t hurt her ribs but reassured her he was there, that she was safe, giving her exactly what she needed.

“My last mission, I had to kill a man who’d once been a friend. Another sniper. His name was Rand Oliver, and we trained together. Years later, he snapped and killed several other soldiers and support staff, then he vanished. I tracked him. We had to stop him, he was highly trained and extremely dangerous.”

She couldn’t even imagine. Alyssa turned as much as her ribs allowed, and slid her hand under his shirt to put her palm over his heart. She didn’t have any words for him. She wanted to assure him she was there with him, listening.

“He was scared when he saw me. A lot of my targets never saw me, but I let him, hoping he’d surrender. I didn’t want to kill him. I just…didn’t. Instead, he told me he knew I would do it because they’d turned us into killers. Then he raised his gun at me and it was over in a second.”

Oh God. Hunt had done it to save other lives. It’s what he’d done his entire Marine career. “And then you came home.”

He leaned down, kissing her. “It’s taken a long time, baby, but I think I’m finally home. With you. We’ll get through these next weeks and months and see where we are. But right now, with you in my arms, I’m home.”