The Black Sheep's Redemption (17 page)

Ryan pulled out his iPhone and looked it up. “About thirty minutes in the opposite direction from where we are.”

The sliding glass door of the hotel shattered inward, spraying them all.

EIGHTEEN

M
ore bullets peppered the area, and Charles felt his back sting. Had he been shot? No, he’d been shot before and this didn’t feel like that.

Without stopping to think, he grabbed Demi and pulled her to the floor. Ryan tackled the clerk. Charles was only seconds behind Ryan in drawing his weapon and heading in the direction from where the shots had come.

He saw a flash from the parking garage across the street and another bullet slammed into the floor in front of him. He ducked and rolled.

“Stay here!” Charles yelled over his shoulder at Demi and the clerk. Not waiting to see if they obeyed him, he and Ryan reached the inside of the first set of sliding glass doors and huddled in the corner. He wasn’t sure the shooter was finished.

Ryan copied him on the opposite side.

Warm outside air rushed over Charles, blowing in through the gaping hole in the second set of glass doors. On the street pedestrians cowered behind whatever shelter they could find. Screams still echoed.

“Stay down!” Ryan shouted. “Stay down!”

Someone had followed them. The thought made Charles’s gut churn. They’d been careful, took a winding route, watched their backs. How had they been followed?

And the guy shot into a hotel? Why? That was crazy, wasn’t it? What were the odds of hitting a target shooting through two sets of glass doors?

The question puzzled him. But one thing was certain.

Whoever was after him was determined to rub him out of the picture.

But not if Charles found him first. His jaw felt tight enough to shatter. He looked toward the parking garage again. To Ryan, he said, “He’s using a high-powered rifle and he’s on the third floor of that garage. I’m going after him.”

“No, you’re not.”

Charles glared at Ryan. He wasn’t the law in this city, but he was still his brother. “I have to.”

Ryan shook his head. “We need to wait for backup.”

“By then he’ll be gone. This has to end now.”

Charles took off for the parking garage.

Feet pounding the pavement, he heard Ryan yelling at him to stop. But he couldn’t. He had to find the shooter. His military training kicked in and he zigzagged across the open street to hit the parking garage where the shots had come from. He expected to feel a bullet slam into him and was almost surprised when it didn’t happen.

Ryan’s shouts still rang in his ears. But he couldn’t stop now. He hit the parking garage full-on, weapon drawn. Fortunately, it was mostly empty.

Breaths coming in pants, he scanned the first floor, then headed for the second. Footsteps behind him made him spin.

“Ryan.”

The fury in his brother’s eyes didn’t faze him. The sudden sounds of sirens in the distance didn’t stop him. The law enforcement officers descending upon the garage didn’t deter him.

He wanted his life back and he was going to go get it.

* * *

Demi felt the hand on her shoulder and turned, thinking Charles had returned through the back door. Instead, she came face-to-face with Alan Gregor. “What are you doing here?” she nearly shrieked. “Are you crazy? Someone’s shooting at us!”

“I know.” Sweat dripped from his brow. “I knew you were coming here and wanted to be here for you. But I knew you were with…him.”

“Then why are you here now?” She flicked her gaze toward the door where Charles and Ryan had disappeared. Still no sign of the men—or the shooter.

Alan was saying, “I wanted to be here for you, Demi. I…well, it was my place to be the support you needed. So, I came anyway.” He licked his lips and swiped at the sweat running down a ruddy cheek. “But when I got here, I couldn’t make up my mind whether I should come in or not. Then the bullets started flying. I had to get in here and make sure you were okay.”

She couldn’t be too upset with the man. It wasn’t his fault she couldn’t remember him. She thought it touching that he would risk his life to help her.

Sirens sounded, lights flashed. Law enforcement descended upon the hotel and the surrounding area.

He grabbed her hand. “Come on, let’s find a better place to hide.”

“No, I need to stay here. Charles and Ryan went after the shooter and I need to wait on them.”

“And what if the shooter decides to come inside? What will you do then?”

He had a point.

Both men had left. But there’d been no more shots. Maybe they already had him in custody.

“The police are here now,” she said. “I think we’ll be safer in here than out there.”

Alan’s hands gripped her shoulders. “Come with me, please, Demi. I…I need you to.”

His intensity shook her. Why was this so important to him? “Alan…”

Tears pooled in the man’s eyes as they hunkered behind the overturned table. “I thought I’d lost you forever. Now I’ve found you and I need you to come with me. Let me keep you safe this time. Just…let me do that, will you?”

Her heart thudded. Compassion filled her along with the certainty of what she needed to do. She had to tell Alan she couldn’t marry him. She needed to call off the engagement. But now definitely wasn’t the time. And she wasn’t going anywhere with Alan in spite of his apparent need to be her hero in this.

“Come out the back way,” he was saying. “I think it’s safe now.”

She started to refuse, then paused. Officers would be out there. Maybe Charles and Ryan.

“All right,” she agreed. “Let’s go.”

Demi let him lead her toward the back of the hotel. As they opened the door a SWAT member descended upon them. “Hands up, hands up!”

They threw their hands in the air and were led to a safe area.

Demi lowered her hands and Alan clutched one as he pulled the baseball cap lower on his forehead with the other. “They’re going to want us to give statements.”

Nodding, only half listening, Demi looked around, taking in the chaotic sights and sounds surrounding her. Where was Charles? And Ryan?

Officers separated them as they questioned them. Demi gave the details she could remember even while her eyes scanned the area. Was the shooter gone? Had he managed to get away? Or had Charles and Ryan been able to get to him? Now that she was behind the police-erected safety barriers, she couldn’t see the parking garage.

Please God, keep them safe.

* * *

Charles watched Ryan slink toward where he was sure the bullets had come from. Charles hung around the building, watching Ryan’s back. His brother had finally convinced him that while Charles had training as a soldier, he wasn’t a cop and couldn’t go around acting like one.

But he didn’t like it. The waiting, the watching was as nerve-racking here as it had been in Iraq. The familiar tension tightening his shoulders and the rock in his gut—that had started while in the service—returned with a vengeance.

“Clear!” Ryan called. “But he was here.” Charles joined him at the edge of the wall of the parking garage. Bullet casings littered the area. A French fry nudged the wall and Charles looked at Ryan.

“Where’s the nearest trash can?”

“Over there.”

Charles walked over, covered his hand with his shirt, and nudged the top off. It landed with a clatter. Looking inside, he saw several fast food wrappers and drink cups. “All of this needs to be gathered for evidence.”

“The CSU team will get that.”

Charles walked back to the where the shooter had made himself comfortable and pointed to the scrape on top of the wall. “Look. That’s where he rested the weapon.”

Ryan sighed and shook his head as he walked away to check out the rest of the area.

But something nagged at him. Again, he studied the surrounding area as the CSU team arrived. Ryan flashed his ID, indicated Charles was with him and the officers got to work.

Charles pulled out his phone and dialed Demi’s cell number. It rang four times then went to voice mail. He frowned. Why wouldn’t she answer? He tried again.

Again, no answer.

Had she been hurt and he hadn’t realized it?

A restless need to get back to Demi washed over him. He looked around. There was nothing more he could do here anyway.

And still something wouldn’t leave him alone. He looked at the French fry, the trash can, the wall the shooter had hid behind.

“He was waiting on us.”

“What?” One of the officers looked up at him.

“He knew we were going to be here. But how?” Desperately, his mind tossed around conversations he’d had concerning the trip here. He couldn’t remember who’d been around when they’d discussed it. But someone had found out and beat them here.

Ryan was deep in conversation with one of the SWAT members. He pointed at Charles who walked toward them.

“It’s clear,” the officer said. “Shooter fired several shots into the building. He was probably gone before we even got here.”

“But why?” Charles asked, puzzled. “There was no way that bullet was going to come near me or anyone else.”

“What was his purpose?”

“Who knows?” Charles ran a hand through his hair and looked around. “I thought it was because he followed us here. He thought he’d finally have a chance at me. But I don’t think we were followed. I think he knew we’d be here.” Charles explained his theory. “But you’d think he’d have picked a better spot. And why didn’t he just pick me off as we walked into the hotel?”

“Because he’s not after you.”

“What?”

“He’s after someone else. Demi.”

Charles processed Ryan’s words and horror hit him. “The shots were a distraction, is that what you’re saying?”

“We’ve been concentrating so hard on who’s after you that we’ve ignored the fact that someone broke into Demi’s apartment and left the message.”

“You don’t belong here,” Charles whispered, recalling the message. “Then someone believes she belongs somewhere else.”

“And what better way to get to her than to get us out of the way?”

Without another word, the two men whirled and raced toward the now-cleared hotel building.

Charles burst through the shattered doors, the glass crunching under his feet.

His eyes swept the lobby.

Demi was gone.

NINETEEN

D
emi answered the officer’s questions as best she could, but she knew she wasn’t much help. He finally let them go and she looked for Ryan and Charles to no avail.

Where had they gone? She knew they wouldn’t just desert her. Were they hurt? Had they found the shooter?

“Demi, come with me,” Alan insisted. “My car’s over here.”

“No, I need to wait for Charles—and Ryan,” she said. “I can’t just leave. I have to make sure they’re all right.”

“They’re fine. And it’s hot out here. If you want to wait for them, let’s at least do it in air-conditioned comfort.”

He took her upper arm and urged her to go with him. Looking around, she still didn’t see the two men she wanted to see. “I’m not worried about being hot. I’m worried about Charles and Ryan.” She pulled away from his grasp and started to turn back the way they’d come.

Alan groaned and stumbled.

Demi stopped and spun to catch his arm. With a gasp, she asked, “Alan? Are you all right?”

“Everything all right?” Demi turned to see the officer who had questioned her. He stood there, his expression concerned. “Sir? You need some help?”

“I’m…diabetic,” Alan said. “M…my medicine is in the car.”

“I’ll get one of the paramedics,” Demi blurted out. She turned to go get help and he grabbed her arm, his fingers digging into her skin.

“No,” he said. “Please, just help me get to the car and I’ll be fine.”

Demi cast another glance over her shoulder. Still no sign of Ryan and Charles, but she could no longer see the front of the hotel.

She looked back at Alan and thought he did look flushed. The sheen of sweat across his brow convinced her. “Okay, come on, we’ll get your medicine and then I’ll check on Charles and Ryan.”

“Do you need any assistance?” the officer asked. “It’s no trouble to get some medical help over here now.”

“No,” Alan insisted. “They’re busy taking care of anyone who may have been hurt in the shooting. And really, I just need to get to my car and get my medicine. I’ll be fine. I promise.” He looked at Demi and licked his lips. “But we need to hurry. Please.”

Torn, Demi knew she had to help Alan. “Sure. Sure. Let’s get it and then I’m going to come back and check on Charles, all right?”

“Yes. Yes, that is fine. Thanks. It’s in the glove compartment.” He paused as they walked, Alan leaning heavy on her, his breathing ragged. “I’m sorry to put you out.”

She took his hand. “It’s no trouble.” It was, but she couldn’t refuse to help the man who’d gone to so much trouble to track her down.

“There,” he pointed. “It’s the Camry.”

At the car, she opened the passenger door.

And felt a hard shove in the middle of her back. She landed face-first in the driver’s seat. “Hey!” Turning, she came in contact with the barrel of a small gun.

Fear exploded in her chest. “Alan?” Disbelief shuddered through her. “What are you doing?”

“Move over,” he growled. “Get in the driver’s seat.”

“No! What…”

His hand came back and slammed against her cheek. She cried out as pain shattered through her.

Along with her memories.

Darkness pressed in on her, but she fought it, refusing to give in and pass out. She needed to think. To remember. To focus.

Her mind spun, her breathing felt forced. And in that instant, clarity hit her.

Alan had done this to her.

And then she didn’t have time to think of anything but surviving another attack by the man who’d beaten her and left her for dead. Ignoring the pain, she strived to gather her wits.

“Drive!” His furious shout in her right ear made her flinch. She grabbed the wheel and maneuvered behind it, her cheek throbbing.

Reaching over her, he jammed the keys into the ignition and cranked the car. “Now go!”

Demi put the vehicle in gear, but her hands shook too hard to grasp the steering wheel.

Alan muttered to himself as he glanced out the window, checked the rearview and side mirrors. Demi sat in stunned shock as she tried to sort through the sudden surge of memories, knowledge—and terror. She blinked as she remembered her loving parents. The home she’d grown up in. Friends she’d left in Brazil.

But along with those emotions came a rage like she’d never felt before. She’d been living in the hotel because Alan had scared her. He’d been persistent. Too persistent. When she’d come home to find him in her bedroom one Sunday afternoon, she’d realized something was wrong with the man.

Terror zipped through her.

As did a desperation to survive so she could be with Charles. Make a life with him. Through teeth clenched against the pain, she asked, “Where do you want me to go?”

He jerked as though he had just realized they weren’t moving. He looked around. “Shut up. Let me think.”

She held her tongue. He started that crazy muttering again. “They’re going to wonder where you are. They’ll come to your house.”

“My house?” She played dumb. “I have a house? Where?”

“But they don’t know I was there, they don’t know I was the shooter so they can’t find me, they won’t know where to look.” His words jumbled together into one long sentence and it took an effort to not only hear what he was saying, but to understand it.

“You were the one shooting?” Hysteria bubbled near the surface and she pulled in a deep breath as they sat in the car in the middle of the parking lot.

Alan still muttered. “They never saw me, I made sure of that.” He grabbed her bag, rummaged through it and then threw it in the back.

“What are you doing?”

“Shut up and drive.”

She gulped and put the car in Drive. “You gave a statement, Alan. The officer saw me leave with you.” Demi pulled into the traffic going in the opposite direction than where she thought he wanted her to go.

He hadn’t noticed yet. He was still thinking. He grinned at her and she wondered why she hadn’t noticed before now that his smiles never reached his eyes. He said, “The officer doesn’t have any idea who I am. I didn’t use my name.”

More memories flooded her. After the bedroom incident, he’d sent her flowers. Bought her a puppy she’d insisted he take back to the pet store. As much as she loved animals, she had no place in her life for one. He’d been angry, yelled at her and called her ungrateful. Grabbed her, pulled her against him and told her that she belonged to him and she’d better get used to the idea.

Demi remembered the fear that had filled her at his words, the expression on his face—the bruises on her upper arms the next morning.

And knew he was dangerous.

Demi had decided to leave. To get away from the man until it was time for her to return to Brazil. So she’d checked into the hotel.

“Hey, where are you going?” Alan yelled now.

Demi cringed away from him, scared he would hit her again. “I don’t know. You haven’t said where to go. I’m just driving. I’ll go wherever you want. Just tell me.”

Her compliance seemed to calm him.

A little.

“Turn around. No, wait, just go to the next street and turn left. Then make another right.”

“Where are you taking me? Why are you doing this?”

He sneered at her. “You’re mine.” Then his face softened and he reached out a hand to stroke her hair. “From the moment I saw you, talked to you in your parents’ yard, I knew you were meant for me.”

She gulped, tried not to pull away from the hand still caressing the back of her head and recalled the few conversations they’d had before he’d turned mental on her. He’d seemed kind enough, like an eager puppy who just wanted to be friends.

And then he’d asked her out.

She’d refused because she’d been planning to return to Brazil and hadn’t wanted to start any kind of relationship with a man.

But that wasn’t the only reason. As kind as he’d come across, she’d also sensed something, read something in his eyes that had set off her internal alarms. She’d used returning to her parents as an excuse not to go out with him.

He’d taken it well, she’d thought. How very wrong she was. “What made you decide you wanted me? Why me?”

“You were so kind, so gentle. So good with the children in the neighborhood. I watched how they’d run up to you and hug you.” He swiped a hand across his face. “And you baked me cookies.”

As a friendly gesture. Nothing more. Initially, he’d seemed lonely, sad, and she’d felt sorry for him. “You said you missed your mother’s cooking. I was just trying to be nice, to be kind.”

“And you were.” From the corner of her eye, she saw his jaw tighten. She turned right. He continued. “You were nice. So very nice. Then I asked you out and you ran like a scared rabbit. I was so mad at myself for messing things up.” He tapped the gun against the side of his head and let out a humorless chuckle. “Then it came to me. It wasn’t me, it was you. You just didn’t know what you were missing. You didn’t realize that I was perfect for you. So, I decided to show you. But you wouldn’t give me the chance to do it.”

“Show me how, Alan?” She remembered her version, but wondered what he was thinking, wondered how his twisted mind interpreted her refusal to date him.

“I tried to convince you to go away with me. Just spend some time alone so you could get to know me. Again you refused. Said you could never go away with a man, that it wouldn’t look right and you had to avoid all appearances of impropriety because of your job.”

And because that’s the way God had directed her to live her life.

Three weeks later, Alan had found her at the hotel. How he’d tracked her down, she wasn’t sure, but he’d caught her as she’d been coming back from doing a load of laundry.

Her laundry. At the hotel. It had been folded neatly. She gulped. He’d folded her laundry. After he’d left her for dead. She didn’t remember the whole attack, but she did remember the first few blows, the exploding pain. The realization that she knew the person attacking her. She remembered thinking she had to fight, to stay awake—or she’d never wake again.

Nausea swirled, her thoughts scattered at the memory and she wanted to scream.

Instead, she bit her tongue, forced her breathing to even out and ordered herself to stay calm. “I’m sorry. That doesn’t sound very reasonable of me, does it?”

Satisfaction spread across his face. “Now you get it.”

“You put that message in my coffee can, didn’t you?”

He snickered. “Yeah.”

“Why? What was the point?”

He frowned. “To show you that you didn’t belong with that guy.”

“Charles?”

“Yes,” he snarled, then mocked. “Charles. I followed you, watching you mooning over him, acting all lovey-dovey. Smiling at him, helping him. That should have been me!” His fist slammed onto the dash and Demi jumped, the car swerving to the left. With effort, she pulled it back onto the road and bit her lip to keep the tears at bay.

Alan growled, “You belonged to me. Not him.”

“I didn’t remember, Alan. I didn’t know,” she whispered. Anything to settle him down. “Why didn’t you just come up to me and tell me all of this when you found me?”

“I didn’t know you had amnesia. The news didn’t say anything about amnesia,” he muttered.

He’d been afraid to approach her. Afraid she would recognize him and turn him into the police. But he’d approached her at the wedding reception.

“When did you realize I had amnesia?”

“I overheard some of the guests at the wedding talking about poor Charles’s new and clueless nanny. When I asked what they meant, they were more than happy to fill me in.”

And allowed him to come up with a plan to kidnap her.

She turned her gaze back to the road. “Where to now?”

“Make the third left up here.”

“Where are we going?”

“We need to make a quick stop.”

A stop? Excitement leaped inside her. Would she have a chance to escape?

He smirked. “And don’t even think of trying to leave me again. If you do, I’ll go straight back to Fitzgerald Bay and kill every one of Charles Fitzgerald’s precious family members. Including his two little brats.”

Demi’s heart sank. Would he really? Could he?

Yes, he would. She had no guarantee she could get to a phone fast enough to warn Charles and his family.

She was trapped.

“And then,” Alan said gleefully, “we’re going to my house—our house. The house where we’ll live after we’re married.”