Simon Says Die (26 page)

He quietly watched her from his bed. The cashier's check pressed against Madison's chest like a heavy weight, reminding her of the lie she'd told him.

Reminding her of the choice she had to make.

“Hamilton dropped all the charges against you,” he said. “You should be relieved.”

“I know. I am. But—”

“But you're still worried about Damon. I won't let him hurt you.”

She stopped pacing at the foot of the bed and put her hands on her hips. “You may be tall, dark, and handsome, but you're not Superman. You still bleed. You can still die.”

He slid off the bed and stood in front of her. He put his arms on her shoulders. “I may not be a superhero, but Damon isn't a supervillain either. He's just a man. I'll find the evidence I need to put him away for a very long time. I'm good at what I do. I
will
put him behind bars.”

She shook her head. “You don't understand. He's sneaky, and smart, and . . . and . . . he doesn't have a conscience. You heard the lieutenant after that call with Logan. He said he still doesn't have enough evidence to take to a grand jury. There's nothing he can do.”

“There's nothing he can do
yet
. Casey's working on the case. Logan's still trying to dig up evidence. Hamilton's looking into it. It's just a matter of time.”

Shaking off his hands, she paced across the room again. She wrapped her arms around her waist and faced him. “Can you promise me, swear to me, that you're one-hundred-percent positive you'll be able to get enough evidence together to put him away? Can you swear to me that he'll pay for killing my father? That he won't be able to hurt my family, or you?” Her voice broke on the last word.

“You know I can't swear to that. Do I believe I can find the evidence I need to put him away? Yes. Absolutely. Am I positive? Would I bet my life on it?” He shook his head. “No. But, I swear I'll do my best, and I'll keep you safe.”

“What about my mom and her husband? Amanda? Logan? What about
you
? How will you keep all of them safe if Damon is free?”

He frowned. “I've never seen you this nervous. What's really going on?”

She closed her eyes tightly but a tear still slipped down her cheek. She almost never cried, but in the past twenty-four hours she couldn't seem to help herself. She was so scared, so worried about her family, about Pierce.

“Ah, sweetie. Don't cry.” He dragged her against him and held her close.

She clung to him, willing her tears to stop as she breathed in the comforting scent of his aftershave, and allowed his welcome heat to seep into her. She loved him. The thought came to her with a startling clarity. Through all the months, all the doubts, all the worry that she couldn't trust her own feelings . . . she suddenly realized her doubts were gone.

She not only loved him, she knew, beyond any doubt, she would
always
love him. This wasn't a bright flash of love like she'd had for Damon when they'd first met. Her feelings for Pierce were totally different.

But it was too late for her epiphany. Pierce might believe he could keep her family, and himself, safe from Damon. But Madison couldn't bear to risk anyone she loved on the off chance that Damon might hurt them. She had to make sure he could never hurt anyone she loved ever again.

Tonight she would offer him a trade. One million dollars for his confession, a confession she would record. She couldn't let him go free. This time she had to protect everyone she loved.

Looking up at Pierce, for the first time she allowed all her love to shine in her eyes. She reached her hand up and cupped his face.

His brows wrinkled in confusion. “Mads? What—”

“Love me,” she whispered. “Please.”

Surprise flickered across his face. He started to step back, but Madison grabbed his arms.

“Pierce, love me.”

He stopped and his gaze fell to her lips. “No. Not again. I'm not a ‘friends with benefits' kind of guy. I want it all, Mads. All, or nothing.” He stared down at her for several minutes, as if weighing an important decision. Then he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a ring. He held it up in front of her.

Madison stared at the pear-shaped diamond solitaire, but she didn't say anything. She couldn't. Her heart was already breaking. Again.

“This is yours, if you want it,” he said. “If you want
me
. I love you. I have from the first sarcastic comment that came out of your mouth. I bought this ring a long time ago, for the woman I loved. I was going to propose. But you left.”

Misery choked the words from her throat. She couldn't agree to marry him, no matter how much she wanted to, not when she was about to go face Damon . . . or Simon . . . and might very well not come back. She knew the odds weren't good, that she could be killed. She couldn't tell Pierce, and have him go with her, because Damon had already told her what would happen if she didn't come alone.

He'd kill her family. He'd kill Pierce.

She couldn't agree to marry Pierce and then leave him, not like this. But more than that, she knew if she said yes, that he wouldn't let her go. She'd be expected to be happy, to celebrate with him. There would be nothing she could say to him that would allow her to sneak out of the bed-and-breakfast to meet up with Damon.

There was no way she could say yes. She had to hurt him, again. And she knew, this time, there was no going back. He couldn't take that kind of abuse from her twice, and give her a third chance.

Hot tears streamed down her face as she realized Damon had already won.

He'd taken Pierce from her.

He took another step forward, watching her intently, waiting.

“I can't marry you.”

His entire body went rigid. He stood for a full minute, not moving, just staring at her. Then his brows lowered, and he shoved the ring into his pocket. He was suddenly crowding her against the wall, using his body to trap her there. His legs were spread wide, one on each side of hers, and his palms flattened on the wall on each side of her head.

“What do you want from me?” Her voice came out a miserable whisper.

“I want the truth, for once,” he whispered harshly. “Tell me what's going through that sarcastic, obstinate, frustrating . . .” He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers. He shuddered and drew a deep, shaky breath. “Tell me what's going on inside that beautiful, intelligent, wonderful mind of yours.” He kissed her gently on the lips. “Not some made up lie about wanting to move on. I knew you were lying that day. Don't lie to me again.”

She drew in a sharp breath. “You didn't know I lied about that until Austin tricked me into admitting it.”

“Do you honestly believe that? I know you far better than you think I do. And I always know when you're lying.”

Alarm shot through her. “That's ridiculous.”

“Is it? Every person has things they do when they lie, a ‘tell.' And I know all the signs when it comes to you. Go ahead. Test me. I'll tell you if you're lying or not.”

“Stop it.” She curled her fists in frustration. “Let me go. I don't want to be this close to you.” She shoved her hair back from her face.

His expression softened. “Lie.” He lifted his hand and stroked her cheek.

She shivered, hating that he was right. With him this close, feeling his heat, breathing in his tantalizing scent, all she wanted was to curl up against him.

“What happened to us, Mads?” His deep voice sent tendrils of fire curling in her belly. He ran a fingertip gently down the curve of her face. “We used to talk for hours. We laughed until you were hoarse. Do you remember all those late nights on the beach, watching the waves crash against the shore?” His gaze dipped to her mouth. “Making love?”

She shivered against him, remembering, longing for the past more than he would ever know.

“You were happy,” he said. “
We
were happy. What changed that?”

She shook her head, digging her fingernails into her palms to keep from reaching out to him. “Two months. We knew each other for two months, and only dated for one. It didn't work out. That's all.”

“What we had was a hell of a lot more than just dating. We were always good together.” His finger burned a fiery path down the side of her neck. “In every way.”

His voice had dropped to a husky note when he said those last three words, and she couldn't help the shiver of longing that swept through her. He caught that little shiver and his eyes turned hungry. He brushed his lips against hers. Once, twice, three times.

She was suddenly in his arms, unable to get close enough to him. He winced, reminding her of his bruised ribs, but when she tried to pull away, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer.

His mouth ravaged hers, his tongue slipping inside, fanning her desire into an inferno so quickly it left her breathless. It felt so good to be in his arms, so . . . right. Like coming home. But when his lips moved from her mouth to the side of her neck and her eyes opened, the logical part of her screamed that she had to stop him or he would think they could be together again, that there was a future for them. She didn't even know if she
had
a future after tonight.

Convincing him that she didn't care about him was the only lie that would ensure that he would leave her alone long enough for her to slip out and meet Damon.

“Don't.” She pushed against his shoulders, careful not to touch his ribs.

He eased his hold but didn't let go. His eyes were dark and smoldering with heat.

“Why?” he asked.

Inside, she was dying, already aching for what she was about to do.

“The truth?” She clutched her hands together to keep from reaching for him. “I told you the truth when I left you all those months ago. You were fun, a lot of fun, especially in bed. I got what I wanted, and it was time to move on. I didn't want to be tied to one person. Just because I didn't find anyone else I was interested in dating since then doesn't mean it was a lie.”

He jerked back as if she'd struck him. His eyes searched hers. He looked down at her hands, as if expecting her to move them. Pain streaked across his face. “So I'm just a good lay?”

She grimaced. “That's a crude way to put it, but yeah. We were great in bed, but that's pretty much it.”

He stared at her for a long time. Then he let her go, turned around and stood at the window looking out on the street.

Unshed tears clogged her throat. She headed back into her bedroom and closed the connecting door.

Five minutes later, she stepped into the hallway, armed with the two guns she'd retrieved from her house before going to the bank.

T
HE HOUSE ON
East Gaston Street was dark, and Madison wasn't sure where Damon would be. Was he watching her now? Had he seen her creep down the street from around the corner? She was wearing the darkest clothes she had—dark jeans, a dark blue button-up blouse. Brown leather boat shoes weren't her fashion choice, but her white sneakers would have flashed in the meager light from the street lamps.

Concealed across the street behind some tall shrubs, she watched the front windows of her house. After half an hour, her patience was rewarded. A shadow, slightly darker than the rest, paused in front of the picture window in the family room. The gauzy curtains opened a few inches as the person behind them looked outside.

Remaining as still as she could, barely breathing, so she wouldn't give herself away, she waited. Finally, the curtains closed, and she let out a shaky breath. She gathered her courage and steeled herself for the meeting that was about to come.

P
IERCE DIDN'T KNOW
how long he stood in his room, thinking about Madison, and kicking himself for being so pathetic as to offer his ring, his name, and his heart all so she could turn him down.

Again.

The bright numbers on the clock by the bed told him how late it was. Usually, he'd be asleep by now, but he doubted he'd be able to get any sleep tonight. He listened for the sounds from the other room that would tell him Madison had gone to bed, but all he heard was silence.

Silence? Madison wasn't the quiet type. Everything she did, she did with gusto. She wasn't the kind to tiptoe around a room. And when she slept, she snored. He should hear her, but instead, he heard . . . nothing.

As if she weren't even there.

A sinking feeling in his gut had him rushing across the room and throwing open the door to her bedroom. It only took a moment for him to realize the room was empty.

Madison was gone.

He grabbed his 9mm and shoved it in the holster he still hadn't removed. He threw his shoes on and rushed downstairs. The TV was blaring in the family room, but the innkeeper, Mr. Varley, wasn't in his usual spot in his favorite recliner. Pierce checked the kitchen next, softly calling out Madison's name. She wasn't there.

Where else could she be? He headed out the front door and ran to his car parked at the end of the block. As he hopped into his car, he tried calling Madison's cell phone. But after calling twice without an answer, he punched another number into the phone.

“Someone had better be dying for you to call me at this hour,” the sleepy feminine voice grumbled on the other end of the phone.

“I need a trace on a cell phone.”

“Nice to talk to you too.”

“Tess—”

“Yeah, yeah. I'm sure you'll explain later. Give me a second to log into work.” A moment later she said, “What's the number?”

He rattled off Madison's cell phone number and started the engine, waiting impatiently as he listened to Tessa typing on her keyboard.

“Tes—”

“Hold on. I've got it, Mr. Impatient. The phone is stationary. Looks like it's on Abercorn, near the intersection with East Taylor.”