by M. A. Grant
Vivian’s cheeks flushed, but she didn’t push him for space. Instead, she asked, “What are you doing here?”
“I needed to talk with you.”
“Now?” She peered around his shoulder and caught sight of John. Despite his frustration with his friend, Zeke loved how Vivian’s face lit up for him. “Hi, John! Are you here with Zeke?”
John schooled his features into an appropriately friendly face, but wouldn’t look at Zeke. “No. Just picking up breakfast.”
“I’m sure Delilah will be grateful for that,” she said with a smile.
The pain that crossed John’s face almost made Zeke stop. At least, it did until his buddy forced on a smile and said in a low voice, “You always get the good ones. You’d better appreciate that.”
Zeke decided to be polite and not flip off his friend. Instead, he turned back to his woman.
“Viv, can we go to the back? Please,” Zeke asked, fighting his urge so sling Vivian over a shoulder and get her away from John and everyone else.
“Tell her hi for me, will you?” Vivian asked John as she took Zeke’s hand and led him toward her office.
At least now he could talk to her without worrying what John may overhear. Judging by John’s miserable expression, Zeke would need to sort shit out with him later. But for now, the only thing that mattered was Vivian and her reaction to his news.
***
“So, good news?” Vivian asked, perching on the edge of her desk and swinging her feet while Zeke closed the door behind them.
“Yeah. I hope so.”
If she didn’t know him better, she might think he was nervous. “Spill, Zeke.”
“I quit my job.”
The news stunned her to silence. He continued, words speeding up as he paced the tiny space.
“You were right. I need to do something else, be someone else. So I quit.”
“Mr. Mak was okay with that?”
A ghost of a grin flitted over his lips. “Yeah. He understood.”
“Wow. That’s...good,” she finished lamely. When he raised a brow and pinned her with that questioning look of his, she held up her hands. “I don’t know what else to say. I know you wanted to quit, so I’m happy you did.”
“But?”
“Now what will you do?”
“Remember when I told you I was going to do something else before I met you?”
Dread coiled in the pit of her gut. Oh, no. This was going to be the goodbye she’d convinced herself would never arrive. “Mhmm.” She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling.
“I’ve been planning on buying a book store. My realtor’s been looking for the right fit for a while and she’s found a few she thinks I would like.”
“A bookstore?” Images of his laden-shelves rose. She smiled despite her knowledge of what was about to come. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”
He stopped pacing and his shoulders dropped. “I knew you’d understand.”
“I’m guessing there aren’t many places for sale around here.”
She’d tried to not sound pitiful or judgmental, but he must have heard the worry in her voice because he was at her side, hand gently cupping her neck as she peered up at him.
“No,” he agreed, thumb brushing her cheek. “There aren’t. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”
She tried to protest, but he leaned down and kissed her. She moaned at the contact, nerves sizzling when his tongue flicked against her lower lip. He was tender, even as he slid a thigh between her knees, forcing her to widen her legs so he could stand between them. She pressed against him, eyes prickling at his gentleness.
The absence of his mouth pulled a soft noise of protest from her.
“Why does it feel like you’re kissing me goodbye?” he whispered.
“Because you’ll be leaving.”
He frowned at her. “I will?”
She tried to laugh, but it came out shorter, angrier than she wanted. “You’re going to buy a bookstore and move away. And we’ll try to make this work and it’ll fall apart and that’ll be the end.”
“You’ve got it all planned out, huh?”
“How else could it possibly go, Zeke?” A stray tear skittered its way down her cheek. Damn, she didn’t want to cry over this. She wanted to be happy for him. To be glad that he was finally getting the life he deserved after everything he’d been through. She shouldn’t be acting so selfish.
His lips brushed her chin, where the tear had halted its descent, kissing it away. “Well,” he rumbled, “I had something different in mind.”
She sniffled and he knelt, so she wasn’t looking up at him anymore. She lifted a hand and traced his jaw, at least until he captured her hand with his and kissed her fingertips. “What’s your idea?” she asked.
“We look at listings together. If we find one in a city we both like, we go take a look at it. If we don’t, or if you don’t want to leave Divine Twins, I’ll start looking at real estate here. It would take longer to start the store from scratch, but it’s not impossible.”
“You’re not serious.”
She jerked when he nipped her fingertips, frown deepening. “I’m dead serious, Viv. No arguments. I’m going to have my store, but I’m not going to give you up to accomplish that.”
“So, you aren’t breaking up with me?”
He threw his head back and laughed, a deep, raucous noise that went on for so long she was left unsure of whether to slap him for making fun of her or joining him in his relief.
“God, no, Viv.” His blue eyes flashed and he pressed his forehead to hers. “No.”
“Even with all the craziness in my life?”
He shook his head. “You’re mine, Vivian Bennett. Craziness be damned. Got it?”
She didn’t bother to speak. Kissing him was answer enough.
Chapter 10
The rest of the day flew by in a blur. Work around the bakery kept Vivian busy until Yvette arrived. Zeke picked her up and they went to visit his realtor, getting information about the different properties she and her extended network had discovered. They were busy eating takeout on his floor, folders of various properties spread around them when Vivian’s cell phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Vivian?” Yvette sounded strange. Upset, nervous. “I’m sorry I’m calling so late.”
“It’s fine. Is something wrong?”
“I’m trying to close up, but there’s a problem with one of the ovens. I turned off the gas to it, but wasn’t sure if there was something else I should do.”
“That’s weird,” Vivian muttered, getting to her feet. Zeke, ever attentive, rose as well, eyes narrowed as he listened in on the one-sided conversation. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. Sorry it’s taking you longer to get home tonight.”
“It’s okay. I’ll see you soon.”
“Something wrong at the bakery?” Zeke asked.
“One of the ovens isn’t acting right,” she explained as she slipped on her shoes. “I just need to go down to check it really fast. Yvette already turned off the gas, but if it’s not working, I’ll need to adjust the baking list for Natalie tomorrow.”
“Let me drive you,” Zeke offered.
“I’ll be fine,” Vivian protested. “You should finish eating and looking over everything. I’ll be back before you know it.”
“The cops still haven’t caught the bastard,” Zeke argued. “I don’t like you going out alone.”
“You can’t be with me all the time.”
“Currently unemployed, darlin’.”
She rolled her eyes and grabbed her purse. “Really, Zeke?”
“Really.” He snagged his keys off the counter and jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s go.”
The lights in the rear of the bakery were on when they pulled up. “She must be in the kitchen still,” Vivian told Zeke as she got out of the car. “Hopefully it won’t take too long.”
“Want me to come in with you?” he asked.
“If you aren’t back in ten, I’m coming in after you,” he called after her.
“I’d expect nothing less.”
She unlocked the back door and pushed it open. Heavy smoke drifted out, setting Vivian to coughing. “Yvette?”
Behind her, a car door opened and slammed shut. Zeke was next to her in a heartbeat. “What the hell’s going on?”
“Yvette?” Vivian called again, fear starting to creep in.
“Viv, we need to call the fire department.”
She ignored him and covered her mouth and nose with a sleeve, pushing her way inside. Zeke swore and followed her in. He talked into his phone as they hurried inside, the smoke growing thicker as they neared the kitchen.
Vivian’s heart stopped when they reached the baking area. Fire engulfed one of the ovens. Scraps of aprons and dishtowels spewed from the oven’s open door, dropping clumps of burning fabric to the floors. Some had clearly drifted toward the wooden worktables, which were starting to catch. Worse, bags of flour were scattered around the room, ripped open so everything was coated in a fine white powder.
Yvette was slumped in a corner near the sink.
“Zeke!” Vivian called over the sound of the flames. She pointed at Yvette. “Help me!”
Together, they made their way to Yvette. Vivian tried to get under one of her arms, but Zeke easily lifted the unconscious woman and carried her toward the doorway. Vivian followed behind him, lungs burning from the acrid smoke. They had to get out before the flour caught—
She watched Zeke’s broad shoulders as he moved out of the kitchen and toward the back door. They passed the hallway to the offices and dining area when Vivian turned back, catching one last glimpse of her kitchen going up in flames. Swallowing down her tears, she turned to continue following Zeke when she caught a flash of movement from the corner of her eye.
Blinding pain exploded above her right temple and the world went black.
***
The fire crews were pulling in when Zeke emerged from Divine Twins, Yvette still cradled in his arms. A pair of paramedics were on him in seconds, barraging him with questions as they took her from his arms.
“I don’t know,” he kept repeating. “Viv’s the owner of this place–”
Silence.
Zeke spun. No one behind him but firefighters staging around the burning building. That strange heaviness had returned to his chest, pushing on his lungs until he had to fight for every breath. Now he knew what it was.
Fear.
“Vivian?” he bellowed. No answer.
Ignoring the orders of the paramedics and nearby firefighters, he rushed toward the back door of Divine Twins. Several firefighters got in his way, blocking him from entering the building. He grappled with them, pointing toward the doorway. “She’s still in there, you bastards!” He pushed against them, screaming her name.
Three firefighters, directed by someone, cautiously entered the building. He answered the fire chief’s questions in a daze. Where it had started. What was burning. Why they’d arrived there just as it had begun. And the entire time he answered those questions, he prayed that Vivian would walk out that door with one of the men who had gone in after her.
Instead, they emerged one by one, empty-handed. The fire chief moved off and Zeke sank to the ground. The pavement’s chill couldn’t rival the ice claiming him. He was dying from it—
“Mr. Harding?” Detective Mancini hurried toward him through the fire crews. “I just heard about the fire from dispatch. They said Ms. Bennet was missing.”
“She was right behind me,” he whispered.
“Mr. Harding, a witness said they saw a dark sedan leaving the building from the front entrance. The driver had put someone in the passenger seat before driving off.”
At least that broke through the haze. “What?”
“Do you know anyone who has a dark sedan, Mr. Harding?”
His mind scrambled, pieces falling into place. Glacial clarity dawned. “No.”
Detective Mancini glared at him, clearly mistrustful.
“I’m sorry, detective,” Zeke said, forcing himself to sound shocked. “I don’t know who it could be.”
“Stay here, Mr. Harding,” the woman ordered. She left him there, working her way back through the crowd toward the front of the building where another cop car waited, lights flashing. She yelled at him as he sprinted from the parking lot, rushing toward the only place he could think of where he could get help.
If Preston was surprised to hear Zeke was at the entrance of The Club, he didn’t act like it. He pulled Zeke inside past the bouncer, smiled disarmingly at a few of the patrons who gave them funny looks, and took him into a quiet office on the first floor. He didn’t care that he was having a hard time breathing. The heaviness in his chest had disappeared while he was running from that damn parking lot. Now he was carved out inside, like someone had been scooping against his ribs with a jagged piece of metal.
“I need your car,” Zeke said.
Wordlessly, Preston left the room. He returned a moment later and handed Zeke his keys.
“Thank you,” Zeke breathed.
Ten minutes later, he parked Preston’s truck outside John’s apartment building. A quick glance up confirmed a light was on. Zeke pretended calm long enough for an older man to let him into the building before he gave and sprinted up the stairs toward the right floor. Panting, he pounded down the hallway and came to a stop outside John’s room.
The door wasn’t closed. A sliver of sickly yellow light fell into the hallway and the icy fingers of fear tightened their grip on Zeke’s heart when he saw the limp form in the room. He pushed open the door slowly, checking what he could without his guns, and knelt beside the body. There was still a pulse.
“John,” he whispered, lightly pushing against his friend’s shoulder. No response. “John, wake up.”
The man groaned, a mangled sound of pain, and blinked a few times before his eyes could focus. “Zeke? How did you know–?”
“Viv’s been taken.”
John winced.
“Since you were lying here unconscious,” Zeke continued, rage growing, “I know it wasn’t you. Who did this?”
“She broke it off,” John mumbled. “And when she came back tonight, I was so damn happy to see her again...I didn’t even think...”
“Delilah? She’s Viv’s stalker?”
John groaned, but Zeke shook him, mind scrambling. “John, she has Viv. I don’t give a shit about your broken heart. Tell me where the bitch is.”
***
“Helloooo,” the voice cooed.
Head protesting the movement, Vivian opened her heavy eyelids and tried to make the world stop spinning. Delilah crouched a few feet away from her, make-up and hair perfect as they’d been at dinner. If she hadn’t been holding a pistol in her hand, Vivian might have been glad to see her.
“Where are we?” Vivian croaked.
“Don’t you recognize it?”
It took a few moments, but details slowly sank in. A familiar rug. A picture she’d wanted to replace months ago, but never had.
“Why are we in my apartment?” she asked, wishing she didn’t feel so nauseous. What the hell had Delilah hit her with?
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for him?” Delilah said, ignoring Vivian’s question.
She was still too muddled to guess. “Who?”
“Quinn, of course.”
“You mean Zeke.”
The blow came too fast for her avoid. The crack of Delilah’s hand against her cheek echoed throughout the apartment, the thunder before the lightning-burn of pain.
“Don’t you dare talk about him,” Delilah fumed. “You’re not worthy to say his name!”
She stayed silent and Delilah’s anger dissipated. Conversationally, she explained, “He doesn’t go by Quinn anymore because he doesn’t want any other woman finding out who he is. He’s wait
ing for me to find him.”
Cunning eyes latched onto her. “You’re just a test. He’s testing me to see how much I love him.”
The gun rose, moving teasingly back and forth in front of Vivian’s eyes.
“Once I get rid of you, he’ll stay here. He’ll stay with me.”
Vivian swallowed. “What about John?”
The gun shivered and held for a second. “John?”
“He loves you.”
What could have been some emotion slid over Delilah’s face, only to vanish a breath later. “John’s weak. Quinn saved him, not the other way around. How could I be with a man like that?”
Delilah giggled at something. “He was so angry when I told him that. He threatened to tell Quinn. I couldn’t have him ruining the surprise like that.” Her eyes narrowed. “It proved what I thought. John didn’t love me. Not like Quinn does. And I forgive him for you. For fucking you and acting like he cared. He didn’t. He was waiting for me.”
Delilah’s words descended into crazed babbling. With her hands tied behind her back and legs duct-taped together, Vivian wouldn’t be able to escape without drawing her attention. Even in a struggle, she’d be at a marked disadvantage.
She tried to fumble with the knot binding her wrists together. Her fingers stretched, muscles complaining as she extended each to its maximum length. The end of the rope was still out of reach.
“Ready to die?” Delilah asked.
Vivian’s world narrowed to that dark hole of the pistol’s barrel.
“You were going to start without me?” The crisp question lilted across the room.
Air rushed into Vivian’s lungs with such speed that spots appeared in her vision. Delilah spun, turning the gun from Vivian, and froze, drinking in the sight of Zeke.
He leaned against the doorway into the bedroom, arms crossed in front of his chest, mouth pressed in a tight line. Not a hair was out of place, not a sliver of affection tainted his blue eyes. This wasn’t Zeke, her lover. This was Quinn O’Neill, soldier.
“You’re here?” Delilah breathed. Vivian hated the wonder in the woman’s voice.
Zeke said nothing. The only change was the way his chin lifted a fraction of an inch. Delilah shivered and took a delicate step closer to him.