The Wedding Rescue, Book Four (An Alpha Billionaire Club BBW Romance) (2 page)

I
wasn’t expecting
Steven to move so quickly. Before I could dodge him, he was behind me, one hand over my mouth, the other trapping my wrists. Steven wasn’t a big guy, or a powerful one. He didn’t need to be; he was stronger than me. He shuffled me up the two steps to the deck and toward the sliding door of my kitchen.

“Open it,” he ordered.

I yanked on my right wrist. I couldn’t unlock the door without a hand free. At that moment, I wished I’d invested in some self-defense classes. Steven had me immobilized, and I had no idea how to get away. If I’d been wearing my heels, I would have had some kind of weapon, but in bare feet all I could do was kick his shin. He let go of one wrist and I fished the key out of my back pocket. The door slid open, letting out a puff of cool air.

Pushing me toward the table, Steven hooked one foot around a chair and pulled it out. He let go of my mouth and wrist to shove me down in the chair. I scrambled to get my feet under me. His fist caught my already bruised jaw in a flash of pain, sending me back down into the seat. A drawer opened behind me and I heard the rasp of duct tape being peeled off the roll. That seemed to be my luck tonight. Steven hadn’t done a single dish or cooked one meal in that kitchen. But he’d taped up a tear on his favorite tattered sneakers, and apparently he remembered where I kept my duct tape.

No more men, I told myself. It would take me years to forget how badly I’d fucked up my life by picking Steven. He taped my wrists together behind me, then wrapped the tape around my torso over and over so I couldn’t get up. When he was sure I was secure, he left me, disappearing down the hall off my kitchen.

It didn’t take him long to find the title to my car and the spare key. I was organized and everything was exactly where I’d told him it was, the file folder complete with a neatly printed label courtesy of my handy little label printer. When this was over, I was going to try being irresponsible. No more savings, no more 401k. Fuck my tidy filing cabinet. What had all that gotten me? Heart broken and victimized by a two-bit con artist. Tears pushed at the backs of my eyes. I fought them back. I wasn’t going to cry in front of Steven.

He held out the title and my urge to weep vanished. I’d have to sign the title over for him to sell the car. In Nevada a transfer between private citizens required a bill of sale and a title, but no notary. I’d looked into it for an elderly client who’d been newly widowed and had never sold a car before. I’d let Steven worry about the bill of sale, but he had to know I’d have to sign the title. Not easy to do with my hands duct taped behind my back.

I didn’t need to say anything. Looking from me to the title, he realized his mistake. Again displaying his maturity, he slammed the paper on the table and kicked the leg of my chair. What an ass. It wasn’t the chair’s fault he was an idiot. I had a moment of triumph before my brain kicked in and reminded me that I was currently taped to a chair in my kitchen and about to sign my car over to this moron. So who was the stupid one? Steven wasn’t a genius, but neither was I.

Cursing under his breath, Steven yanked open drawers until he found one with a knife. Then he did the same looking for a pen. When he had both, he slashed at the tape on my wrists, freeing them with one slice that cut the side of my wrist along with the tape. I felt a cold burn, then blood began to well on the side of my free wrist. He cursed again. Yanking the title away, he snarled,

“Don’t bleed on it.”

“Then get me something to wrap this up,” I snapped. “It’s not my fault. I didn’t cut myself.”

More evidence that I wasn’t as smart as I thought I was. Mouthing off to an angry guy with a knife was not the best idea. He grabbed a dishtowel, wrapped it around my bleeding wrist, and taped it in place. It hurt like a bitch, worse than my jaw. It wasn’t bleeding fast enough to be dangerous, but it was bleeding more than I’d like. Quickly, before blood could soak through the towel and stain the title to the car, I scanned the document and signed it over to Steven.

The second the pen left the paper, he snatched the title away from me, folded it up and shoved it into his back pocket. Tossing the knife in the sink, he wrenched my arms behind my back and taped them together for the second time. Standing back, he examined me before saying,

“You look good like that. Tied up and helpless. Makes your tits look bigger. I always liked your tits. They made up for your fat ass.”

A sharp bolt of fear hit my heart. No, not this. He could have the money, he could have anything. I didn’t think I could take it if he touched me. Steven grinned at the terror in my eyes. I flinched back, trying to get as far from him as I could. Taped to the chair, I couldn’t move very far. One hand reached out to stroke my bruised cheek. I jerked my face away, looking down at my lap, shamed by the tears leaking from my eyes. He laughed, dropping his hand to cup my left breast. I’d managed to put on a bra in the dark, but it was thin. No barrier from the harsh squeeze of Steven’s hand. Desperate, I said,

“Touch me one more time and I’ll scream so loud Mrs. Carmody will be on the phone with the cops in a second.”

His hand fell away. Steven knew Mrs. Carmody. She’d come out on her front porch and yelled at him more than once when he’d parked his car too close to her yard.

“That old bitch,” he murmured. “I could just do this.” He ripped off a length of tape from the roll and held it out, moving toward my face. If he gagged me, I couldn’t do anything. I opened my mouth to scream, and he punched me again, this time on the cheekbone. My jaw snapped together. Tape slapped across my mouth, sealing it shut.

I panted through my nose, heart racing. If he tried anything else, I was going to fight. Forget about the knife, forget about the fucking video. Steven could take the car, but he wasn’t taking anything else from me. Maybe he sensed my resolve. After staring in my eyes for a long second, he shrugged.

“You’re not worth the trouble. Not for a fat chick.” He turned for the back door and said over his shoulder, “You’ll get yourself loose eventually. Don’t even think about calling Kane or anyone else.”

I didn’t respond, just stared at my knees and waited for him to leave. He hesitated, as if thinking of saying something else, then he was gone, sliding the glass door to the deck closed behind him. I sat there, taped to the chair, fighting tears. I wanted to let go, to sob out my frustration. Crying wasn’t going to help me. My wrist was bleeding, and I was pretty sure it needed stitches. Since I didn’t have a car, I’d have to call a cab to take me to the ER. At least I had my health insurance, though the ER co-pay was going to cost way more than an office visit. But I didn’t think this could wait until Monday.

Before I could get to the hospital, I had to get out of this chair. Wiggling back and forth, I eased the chair back toward my kitchen cabinets. One thing at a time. First, I had to get my wrists free, then get a cab to the hospital. After that, I could worry about the rest of my life.

I
rolled over and stretched
, my arm extended for Leigha. I’d been dreaming of her. Of taking her from behind at the end of the bed while she wore nothing more than those gold heels. I reached out my hand and met cold sheets. My eyes flashed open, and I scanned the bed. No Leigha.

Sitting up, I looked to the bathroom. Dark and empty, the door hanging open. Aside from the startled rasp of my own breath, the penthouse was silent. It felt empty. Swearing under my breath, I leaned over and flicked on the light beside the bed and checked the clock. Three seventeen am. Getting out of bed, I took a quick walk through the rooms of the penthouse. Nothing. But then, I already knew. I felt her absence in the quiet, cool air. Leigha was gone.

I was not an emotional guy. In business and in my personal life, I was all about logic. At the realization that Leigha had walked out on me, logic went out the window. Anger hit me first.

What the fuck was wrong with this girl? Had she seen an old lipstick in the bottom of a drawer and decided I was hiding a secret wife? Was I not good enough for her? I was Dylan fucking Kane for fucks sake. Women panted to get in my bed and this one little accountant, who lived in a bungalow and drove a beige sedan, thought she could walk out on me? Fuck that. Fuck her.

I paced my bedroom in a fury, dragging on discarded clothes as I went. I may have knocked over a lamp in the process. I know I threw our champagne glasses at the fireplace. Not my most mature moment. Fumbling with a button down the shirt I’d worn that afternoon, I caught a whiff of her perfume. This was the shirt she’d been wearing while we’d eaten lunch. While we’d talked all afternoon. That girl wouldn’t have walked out on me without a word. She’d gotten nervous that morning, but everything had changed between us. Hadn’t it?

Taking a steadying breath, I went to the second bedroom and opened the hidden storage closet in the back corner of the room. Her suitcase was still there, her purse and car keys sitting right on top. I could see her walking out on me. No, I couldn’t. But I could accept that it had possibly happened. But even if she’d decided to sneak out in the middle of the night, what woman would take off without her purse? Or her house keys? Something here wasn’t right. Forcing myself to stop and think, I ran through the options in my mind.

Then I went to my desk. Opening my laptop, I picked up the phone and dialed the number of the security office. As I listened to the phone ring, I clicked on my email and pulled up the preliminary report Axel had sent me on Leigha. I’d had him look into her, that Steven guy, and her new boss. The report was nothing in depth, Axel hadn’t had time for that. But it had the basics: home address, social, license plate as well as make and model on her car, and employment history. It was a start. On the other end of the line, I heard, “Delecta Security, this is Randall.”

“Randall, it’s Dylan. I have a situation. I’m on my way down, but I want you to get started right away. I need footage of anyone leaving the penthouse floor after midnight tonight. And I need you to locate a vehicle in our garage. A Honda Accord EX-L, beige, Nevada plate NGT947. If the car isn’t in the garage, find footage of it leaving the garage. And last, have someone check the entrance for an individual getting picked up or getting into a taxi. I’m sending a picture to your email.”

“Yes, sir. I’m on it. Anything else?”

“No. I’ll be right there.”

If she’d left the casino, I’d know in minutes. And if she was still here, I’d have my security team pick her up and deliver her to my office. For a second I wondered if she’d sneaked off to gamble downstairs. As soon as the image hit my mind, I laughed. Not Leigha. I couldn’t imagine Leigha gambling her hard earned money for fun, much less sneaking out of my bed to do it. She was my good girl. And as my head cleared, worry made a tight ball in my chest.

She
was
my good girl. If she was going to leave me, she’d at least tell me goodbye. She wouldn’t disappear in the night like this unless something was wrong. I was dressed in the jeans and button down I’d been wearing earlier in the day, but I needed shoes. Flicking on the light to the bedroom, I noticed that everything was in place.

Her jewelry was still on the bathroom counter, her dress neatly hung up in the closet. There were two empty hangers among the clothes Melissa had bought her. Probably jeans and a shirt. If she’d taken a dress, only one hanger would be empty. Pins littered the sink. And her phone was missing. The last I’d seen it, she’s left it on the bedside table. Now it was nowhere to be seen. Had someone called her?

Shoving my feet in a pair of worn sneakers, I grabbed my wallet and keys before heading for the door. I was going to find her. And when I did, she’d have some serious explaining to do. I was worried, but I was still pissed off.

I tried her cell in the elevator and got her voicemail. I thought about hanging up, but decided not to. Instead, I waited for the tone and said, “Leigha. I woke up, and you weren’t here. Call me.” Calm and thoughtful. Nothing that would piss her off if she’d decided she was mad at me. I didn’t like that she wasn’t answering her phone.

T
he security room
was hopping when I got there. It usually was on a Friday night, no matter that it was past three o’clock in the morning. I ignored the bank of screens in the front and went straight for the back office. Up a half-flight of stairs, the office was sealed off with glass and overlooked the rest of the security nerve center. Randall glanced up from the screen in front of him when I opened the door. He’d been with me since I opened the Delecta. With thirty years in the business and a kid’s enthusiasm for the newest tech equipment, he was the ideal head of security. Every potential card cheat or scam artist was a new puzzle for him to solve. I knew he’d track Leigha down at warp speed if just for the rush of answering the question of what she was up to.

“I got her, sir,” he said. I sat beside him and studied his monitor. Divided into four sections, he had Leigha on one, frozen in the act of pressing the button for the casino floor inside the elevator. The second frame showed her outside the door to the casino, getting into a taxi. The third was scanning cars in the garage. I glanced to my left and saw one of Randall’s top techs examining the cars on his own monitor. The fourth frame showed vehicles exiting the parking garage.

“She got in the cab at two twenty eight. Went straight down to the lobby and outside. Didn’t stop or talk to anyone on the way. Nothing in her hands but a cell phone. Not even a purse. Here, I’ll show you.”

Randall clicked open another screen on the monitor and clicked a tab. The cameras tracked Leigha from the moment of pressing the elevator button, through her ride to the lobby. A different camera picked her up as she left the elevator, the frames changing quickly now as she moved from camera to camera on her path to the exit. The last shot showed her carrying only her phone, getting into a cab. Through it all, her face was blank, her jaw set. She looked pale and shaken. If I’d doubted it before, now I was certain. Something was very wrong.

“Find the car,” I said to Randall. “If it’s still here, keep eyes on it, just in case.”

Standing up, I pulled out my phone and paced to the far corner of the room, dialing Axel. Everyone would hear my conversation, but these guys were smart enough to pretend not to listen. I didn’t have time to go to my office for privacy, I needed to be here until I got another lead.

“Hey,” I said when he answered with a clipped, “What?”

“Leigha is missing. She left without her purse or keys and caught a cab about an hour ago. Something’s wrong.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure. Do you have a guy you can send to her house? If she’s not there, you need to track her down. Her car is still here, so are the rest of her things. I don’t want to go running all over town looking for her if she’s planning on coming back.”

“One minute.” He hung up.

Axel was fast. Fewer than two minutes later, my phone was ringing again.

“I’ve got a guy headed to her house and another listening to the police band for any mention of her car. I sent a third to the Delecta. He’ll be on hand if you need anyone there. What do you want my guy to do if she’s at home?”

“Have him make sure she’s okay. If she’s fine, just let me know and I’ll head out. If she’s in any trouble, he should do whatever he has to.”

“On it. Stay there and as soon as I have anything, I’ll call.”

I hung up and went to stand behind the tech monitoring the garage. Cars flashed by on the screen, too fast for me to identify.

“How will you know if you find it?” I asked, trying to distract myself. I’d feel more solid once I knew where Leigha was. Without looking up at me, the tech said,

“We built it off the facial recognition program. I entered the vehicle specs we had on file for the car, and the computer does the rest.”

“You have the specs for all those cars on file?” I asked.

“No.” The tech shook his head without taking his eyes from the screen. “But we have just enough to cut the time it takes to scan the garage. Too much data to parse would slow it down.”

“You guys build this in-house?”

“Yes, sir. More secure that way.”

“Very cool,” I said, studying the cars speeding across the screen. I’d invested a lot into my security team. Between the high rollers visiting the Delecta and the amount of cash that came in and out, it was imperative to have the best watching over the place. I rolled my shoulders back, trying to relax. I had my team here watching for her. Axel was on the case. We would find her. And I’d either solve her problem, whatever it was, or spank her ass for trying to run out on me again. Likely both.

Sometime in the last day and a half, I’d decided I was keeping Leigha. She was everything I’d been looking for in a woman, and I didn’t see the point in playing games. I’d always been like this. Decisive. Once I knew what I wanted, I never questioned it. I’d met Axel in college and in the time it took to get through our first Biology Lab, I’d known we’d be friends for life.

When I’d decided to move to Nevada and open a casino, I’d spent over a year gathering intel and researching the market. But once I’d come out to find a building site, I’d chosen it the first day. One look at the aging casino in the Delecta’s current location, and I’d known this was the place. I could see it in my mind, cleared of the original building, my beautiful Delecta rising in its place. I’d made an aggressive offer on the property, done my due diligence and made a solid investment. But all that was to keep the spreadsheets looking good. I’d already known I’d found my new home.

I barely knew Leigha. What I did know left me wanting more. Beautiful. Un-fucking-believable in bed. Smart. Sweet. Funny. Just touching her calmed me and set me on fire at the same time. I had no idea why she’d left. Maybe I was wrong, and she wasn’t in trouble. Maybe she’d gotten another wild idea and decided she had to go. If that was it, I’d change her mind.

I was Dylan-fucking-Kane. I could get her back. Thinking over the possibilities, I hoped that was it. The other option, that she was in trouble, was too terrifying to contemplate. At least, it would be terrifying until I got her back. Once she was safely with me, I was going to unleash holy hell on whoever had upset her.

“Sir, we’ve got the car.” I turned to see Randall and the tech leaning over the tech’s monitor. It was stopped on her sedan, the license plate clearly in view.

“Keep an eye on it,” I ordered. “It’s possible she may come back to pick it up.”

“Yes, sir.”

We waited, all three of us watching Leigha’s car, sitting alone and untouched in the quiet parking garage. Until Axel called with a report from Leigha’s house, or she showed back up in the casino, there was nothing I could do. I was all about action. Sitting and waiting while Leigha might be in trouble was not my idea of fun.

It felt like an eternity of nothing, the same view on the screen of Leigha’s boring, brown car. I was buying her a new one. That one wasn’t her. She thought she was a sensible beige sedan, but after the way she’d looked that evening, I think it was safe to say Leigha was a rare bloom. She needed something exciting, not sensible. An Audi TT. I pulled up the website on my phone while I waited. In the middle of choosing between silver and grey, Randall said,

“We’ve got movement.”

Jerking my head up, I saw a blond male approach the car with a single key in his hand. I heard Randall say,

“Track him back to where he entered the Delecta.” Somewhere off to the left a voice answered, “Yes, sir.”

“Do you know him?” Randall asked, zooming in on the man’s face. I didn’t. I called Axel, who picked up immediately.

“I’ve got a guy getting in Leigha’s car. He had a key. Does your guy at the Delecta have the make and model?”

“Yes. Hold on.”

I heard Axel pick up another phone and relay orders to his man outside the casino. Before he came back on the line, there was a beep on his end, then the sound of a muffled voice. Our call was muted on his end for less than a minute, then Axel was back.

“My guy at Leigha’s house checked in. She was there, just left to get in a cab. He’s in his car following the cab.”

“Where’s she going?” I asked.

“We’re not sure yet,” Axel said, “He’s on her. But Dylan, there’s something else.”

“What,” I barked, not liking the hesitant tone of Axel’s voice.

“My guy was there with a partner. When they saw Leigha leaving, he stayed with her and the partner checked the house. The back door was unlocked, and he went in. There was a bloody knife on an armchair by the door and blood on the kitchen table and floor. Duct tape was stuck to a chair. The best he can tell, she was injured and restrained. Hard to say what came first. Our best guess is that her cab is headed to the hospital.”

Mind numb, I hung up the phone and shoved it in my pocket. Turning to Randall, I said, “Email a screenshot of the man in Leigha’s car to Axel. I’m headed out. If anything comes up, call.”

I saw the doubt in Randall’s eyes. He wanted to stop me from leaving. If I looked half as frantic as I felt, he had good reason for his concern. I didn’t care, the only thing on my mind was Leigha.
Injured and restrained
. The words echoed in my head. Who would hurt Leigha? Why? I paced through the security room, headed for the elevator when the door opened. Axel stood there, his phone to his ear. Reaching out, he grabbed my arm and pulled me into the elevator.

“I’m driving,” he said, “You look like shit.”

I scowled at him, but said nothing, my entire being focused on getting to Leigha.