Running Strong

by Christy Reece

  Not taking his eyes from Giselle, Daniel said, “You okay, Hugh?”

  “That bitch is going to die.”

  “But of course she is,” Daniel said soothingly.

  Roughly grabbing her hands, Rawlings pulled them behind her and wrapped something around her wrists.

  His smile even meaner and smugger, Daniel pressed the gun harder against her forehead.

  Her chances for escape had just gone down considerably.

  “Let’s get her inside.”

  “Lead the way,” Daniel said.

  Having no choice but to follow behind Rawlings, Giselle walked down the pathway toward the house. They likely made an odd-looking group. Two elegantly dressed men with a young woman in a catering uniform between them. If that didn’t seem strange enough, having her hands tied behind her back and a gun digging into her shoulder most certainly would.

  Though it was dark, the sky was clear and a half moon glowed above them, lighting the way. The house was much smaller than the Fletcher mansion and was older. Her gaze moved left and right, looking for anything she might use to escape. Once inside, her chances of surviving would go down even more. Her opportunity came from the bushes. With a meowing squeal, an orange streak darted out and ran between her and Rawlings. Startled, Daniel cursed and took a step back. Giselle took off running. She had no clue where she was going. She knew only that she needed to get away as fast and as far as she could.

  A bullet whizzed by her head, and Rawlings snarled in a harsh whisper, “Dammit, Daniel, don’t shoot. The neighbors will hear.”

  If they were worried about someone hearing them, then they were close enough that she could run to a neighbor. Running with her hands behind her back wasn’t easy, but she was motivated. Long legs stretched out in front of her, and her feet flew as though they had wings. She saw a light in the distance and shouted at the top of her lungs, “Help! Fire!”

  A dark figure hurled itself toward her. Giselle screamed and tried to dodge it in midstride. Rawlings tackled her, taking them both to the ground. She lay on her back, the air completely gone from her lungs.

  “You okay?” Daniel whispered above them.

  “This bitch is going to pay,” Rawlings growled.

  “Come on. Let’s get her inside.”

  Without the ability to breathe, Giselle managed only a halfhearted attempt at kicking the man who hauled her to her feet. She opened her mouth to scream again, determined to make some sort of sound, and never got the chance. Rawlings’s fist slammed into her face, stunning her.

  Hauling her over his shoulder, Rawlings carried her into the house.

  ***

  Daniel slapped the girl’s face. She was conscious, but seemed to be someplace else. He wanted her right here, alert and aware of everything. He had a few things to say, and then his friend could have her. Whatever Hugh had in mind, and he had an inkling what that would entail, wouldn’t be nearly what she deserved. She had tried to ruin him. Every offer he’d made to her had been rejected. If she had stayed quiet about what she’d heard and agreed to let them keep the boy, none of what happened to her would have been necessary. She was the only one responsible for her plight. Hell, he had even sent her to an asylum as a concession. He could’ve just had her killed. There wasn’t an iota of gratitude in the girl.

  After he delivered three resounding slaps, her eyes flickered open, but were glazed and unfocused. He gave her another, harder smack. Her eyes opened wide, and reason returned. Hatred gleamed in the dark depths, and it was all he could do not to just choke her himself. How dare she look at him with such contempt?

  “Glare at me all you want, girl. You’re the one responsible for your predicament. If you hadn’t been snooping around, sticking your nose where it didn’t belong, none of this would be necessary.”

  Instead of responding, she let her gaze roam around the room. When she realized she was tied to the bedposts, she let loose a shriek that pierced his ears, and began to twist and turn, trying to get free.

  “No use trying to escape. Hugh and I are expert sailors. There’s not a knot we can’t tie.”

  “You won’t get away with this, Daniel.”

  “But of course I will, Giselle. So few people realize just how far and great my influence goes. There’s not a person in this world who won’t do as I ask.”

  Footsteps sounded behind him. “Are you almost done? It’s getting late. You need to get back to Clarissa, and I want to get on with my evening’s entertainment.”

  “You’re right. I didn’t tell my wife where I was going. She’s likely very put out, but she’ll be happy to hear this little problem is being handled.” Daniel glanced over his shoulder. “Thank you for taking care of it, my friend.”

  “What are best friends for?”

  Daniel turned back to the girl. “I wish I could stay and list every single thing you did to deserve this, but quite frankly you’re just not worth the trouble. My son made some errors in his life, but you were the worst.”

  “That is about the only thing we could ever agree on. Marrying your son—marrying into the sleaziest family I’ve ever known—was definitely the worst decision I’ve ever made.”

  He hauled off and hit her again. Not nearly as hard as he wanted. She needed to be conscious for the main event.

  Straightening to his full height, he walked away. “Make sure she pays, Hugh. All right?”

  An unusual fire burned bright in his friend’s eyes. “I’ll do my best.”

  Assured that the girl would suffer before she died, Daniel walked toward the bedroom door. He stopped at the entrance and said, “Oh, and Giselle, don’t worry about the boy. He’ll be brought up to follow in my footsteps.”

  Chuckling, he closed the door on her screams of rage.

  Chapter Forty-one

  Giselle glared up at the man who stood over her. His intentions were obvious. She had always felt uneasy when she was in Hugh Rawlings’s presence, and now she knew why. The evil in his eyes chilled her to the bone.

  She took a moment to assess her situation. Though her jaw ached and her head throbbed, those were the extent of her injuries. She was healthy and strong, more than able to fight. Her hands were tied to the bedposts, but her legs were free. A powerful kick in just the right place would incapacitate the pervert. Problem was, if she didn’t get her hands free, she might lie here for hours.

  How could she play this? Making nice with a man who wanted to rape and kill her was beyond her acting abilities. Getting him to release her in some sort of mutual-attraction scenario was out, too. She would throw up the instant he touched her.

  She could, however, play on his pride. If that didn’t work? No, she wouldn’t even consider that option.

  Raphael and LCR had no idea of her location. What had happened after she was abducted dwelled like a dark entity in her mind, hammered at her heart. What if Raphael hadn’t made it out of the house? What if Mavis had been the one to betray her and had taken Gio back inside the mansion before LCR could find him? What if this was the way things were supposed to end for all of them?

  No, no, no. She had not survived a freaking insane asylum, found Raphael again, and rescued Gio only to lose it all. That was not happening.

  A smarmy smile slid up Rawlings’s face. His hand reached out and brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “I always envied Danny. Being able to touch that soft, golden skin. Lie between those long, firm legs, suckle those pretty—”

  “I always knew you were a pervert.”

  Though his smile dimmed a bit, he didn’t react the way she had expected. “This doesn’t have to be unpleasant. I can make it pleasurable for you.”

  She snorted her disgust. “Rape is rape.”

  He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Very well.” He grabbed her shirt and jerked. Cold air swept over her, chilling her blood. If she didn’t do something soon, it would be too late. Problem was, she needed him closer. Could she play the game long enough to get him close enough?

  The insta
nt his hand touched her breast, she knew she couldn’t do it. If he went further, she’d throw up. She opened her mouth to scream and then stopped. She had something else…something that would stun this man. Would it cause him to completely lose his temper, or would it give her more time?

  When his hand slid down her torso, she knew she had no choice but to try. It was now or never. “Cato Cavendar.”

  Rawlings froze. “How do you know that name?”

  “We know everything, Rawlings. Everything. The people you and Daniel threatened and bribed. The politicians and reporters who do what you tell them to do. All the illegal deals you’ve made for profit. All the people you’ve cheated.”

  “Who is ‘we’?”

  “The authorities.”

  He snorted. “They won’t do anything. We have too much power.”

  “Oh yeah? Why don’t you call Daniel and find out what’s going on over at his house?” It was past midnight. The raid on the Fletcher estate was already in progress. There was nothing Rawlings could do to stop it.

  Looking more amused than worried, he backed away and pulled his cellphone from his pocket. She watched him press a key, heard the call ring, and then Daniel’s voice mail saying to leave a message.

  “Daniel, Hugh here. Call me, my friend.”

  “I imagine he’s a little too busy calling his lawyers to talk with his partner in crime. If I were you, I’d get in my car and leave town. They’ll be coming for you next.”

  Rawlings shook his head. “He didn’t have his cellphone on him. That’s the only reason he didn’t answer. You must’ve heard Daniel mention Cavendar’s name…probably heard it when you were eavesdropping. There’s no way in hell he’d betray either me or Daniel.”

  She managed a smug smile. “If you say so.”

  He leaned over her, his hot, sour breath coating her face. “I’m tired of playing around.”

  “So am I.” She lifted her knee, slammed it into his temple, stunning him. He staggered back a few inches, giving her the room she needed. Holding the bedposts for leverage, she lifted both legs, angled them outward, and kicked with all her might. She heard the crunch, felt the gush of blood as it splattered all over her. With barely a grunt, Rawlings dropped like a stone beside the bed.

  She lay gasping on the bed, triumphant and hopeful. They would come here, looking for Rawlings. She knew they would. She just needed to hang on. And pray that Rawlings did not wake up before that happened.

  ***

  A huge wave of relief swept through Daniel as he made his way back home. He was thankful Hugh had lent him a car, or he would have had to call a cab. If there were any guests left at the house, that would have looked quite strange.

  Things could now go back to normal. Well, almost normal. His tiresome ex-daughter-in-law would no longer be a bother. She had been his most pressing concern. The man, Raphael Sanchez, was still an issue—especially with the powerful Noah McCall as his friend. But no one could match Daniel’s influence. He would find a way to rid the earth of Raphael Sanchez. The man would never get the opportunity to claim the boy as his son.

  And if McCall continued to cause problems? He knew the man’s weakness. Next time, he would make sure to do things right. He’d gotten to McCall’s family once, he could do it again. This time, he would make sure they didn’t survive.

  Cavendar had disappointed him once again. Twice he’d said the girl was dead, and twice he’d been wrong. He should have reprimanded him the first time. The man needed to know that just because he had done good work in the past didn’t mean he would be allowed to get away with failure. Daniel had made Cavendar a wealthy man, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t replaceable. He could easily find someone to take Cavendar’s place.

  He glanced at the dashboard readout, noting there was a call option. Though new technology stymied him, he wondered if he should figure out how to phone Clarissa. He’d left in such a rush and hadn’t had the chance to let her know what was going on. Not wanting to be interrupted during his party, he’d left his cellphone in his bedroom. Daniel made a mental note to never do that again. He felt at a distinct disadvantage and quite out of touch with the rest of the world.

  He made the final turn on the road that led to his home. The party had been a roaring success. Even though he’d had to leave early, he had been quite pleased. Every person he had invited had attended. Every influential man and woman he had insisted show up and play nice had done exactly that.

  He sighed, this time with supreme contentment. Yes, there were still a few loose ends to tie up, but all in all, things were going magnificently his way.

  That warm fuzzy feeling lasted him all the way to the top of his driveway. The lights were so bright at his house, the entire structure looked like it was on fire. The party would have been over a couple of hours ago. Everyone, even the servants, should be heading to bed.

  His heart in his throat, he zoomed down the driveway and then jerked to a stop. Two men in suits, holding guns, approached his vehicle.

  Fury erupted. How dare they?

  Daniel got out of the car, screamed, “What is the meaning of this?”

  Another man stepped out of the shadows. This was someone he knew—one of those influential people who, only hours ago, had been enjoying his hospitality. He had made this man cry and curse more than once. He damn well would know the reason all of this was happening, or this man’s head would roll.

  “Wilkins, what is the meaning of this?”

  Instead of the deference he was accustomed to, Wilkins gave him a broad smile and said, “This, Mr. Fletcher, is the very definition of karma.”

  Chapter Forty-two

  The house looked quiet, maybe even empty. Raphael had turned off his headlights as he approached. And now, other than one single light in a window on the first floor, everything was in darkness. She had to be in there. He refused to believe otherwise.

  A small vintage sports car was parked in front of the house. Records showed that Rawlings owned four vehicles. Having this one parked out front had to mean something.

  Raphael opened his car door, stepped out, and grabbed what he needed from the trunk. He barely heard Noah getting out on the other side.

  Aidan and Sabrina had parked on the street and approached at a rapid run.

  “Fox and Thorne, go around back,” Noah said. “Sanchez and I will take the front. We go in on my count of three. We’ll check the door and go in quietly if we can. If not, we’ll bust down the damn door.”

  They’d gone through this scenario many times. Raphael knew what to do, how it should go. This was different. No previous situation had been more personal or important.

  His heart pounding with both hope and fear, Raphael kept low as he ran to the front of the house. Noah ran beside him. Before stepping onto the porch, they stopped. Saw no movement inside.

  With a nod, they stepped up onto the porch. At the door, gun at the ready, Noah said, “Hold on.”

  Shining a flashlight over the door, they noted not one but three deadbolts. Busting it down was their only option.

  “On my count. One. Two. Three.”

  Swinging with all his might, Raphael slammed the battering ram into the door. It cracked. He went at it again, and it splintered, then crashed open. He threw the tool to the floor, and his gaze swept the room. Saw nothing.

  Heading to the room where the lights were shining, his gun at the ready, he pushed the door open. He told himself whatever he found couldn’t be worse than his imagination.

  The instant his eyes spotted Giselle on the bed, he knew he’d been wrong. This was worse. So much worse.

  She lay still, covered in blood, her eyes closed. Her wrists were tied to the bedposts. Though her pants were still on, her torso was bare with the exception of the blood.

  Refusing to accept what he was seeing, Raphael rushed forward. “Giselle?”

  Spotting Rawlings’s body lying a few feet away from the bed, Raphael shouted, “Noah! In here!”

  Reaching
the bed, he touched Giselle’s neck, checking for a pulse. Her skin was warm. The instant he found a pulse, her eyes opened.

  “It’s about time, Raphael Sanchez. I’ve been waiting a lifetime for you.”

  He almost fell to his knees in relief. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  “Is Gio okay?”

  “Yes. He’s safe. He’s with Samara.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “You think you could untie me? My arms are numb.”

  Feeling like he was moving in slow motion, he pulled his knife from the sheath at his waist and cut the rope. She lowered her arms, rubbing circulation back into the numb limbs.

  Almost afraid to touch her, he asked, “Where are you hurt?”

  “I’m not. Not really. Just some bruises.”

  “But the blood.”

  “It’s not hers,” Noah said behind him. “It’s Rawlings’s.” Grinning at Giselle, he added, “Good job.”

  “Is he dead?” she whispered.

  “No. But he’s going to be in a lot of pain when he wakes up.”

  Knowing Noah would take care of Rawlings, Raphael turned back to Giselle. He helped her sit up and then pulled her into his arms. Closing his eyes, he held her. She was alive. Thank you, God, she was alive. And he was never letting her go again.

  “Everything okay?” Aidan Thorne stood at the door.

  “I’ve called an ambulance for Rawlings,” Noah said. “Check on Giselle.”

  A hand touched his shoulder, and he looked up at Thorne. “Let me take a look at her, buddy.”

  Raphael nodded. Yeah, he needed to let her go, let her get checked out. For the life of him, he couldn’t seem to do it.

  “Raphael, I’m fine. Really.”

  Thorne touched his shoulder. “Why don’t we go into the living room? Get her away from here.”