Rapid Pulse: A Limited Edition Spicy Romance Collection

by Gina Kincade

  "But that's not true. They're not engaged anymore," Hunter protests. "He assaulted her."

  The shock registers on Jason's face. Clearly, he's only been told part of the story. "As far as I'm concerned, if what Wainright said about Perry Fitzpatrick are all true, we need to keep Blanche away from him. But I'm afraid I have some bad news. He's here in New York."

  Trisha gasps, one hand flies to her mouth, the other grips Hunter's arm. "That's not good. There's no telling what he'll do. Blanche has seen the bad part of him, but it's only a small part. She doesn't how dangerous he is. We have to protect her."

  "Of course," Jason agrees. "Has she filed for a Restraining Order?"

  "No. She never had the chance. She just ran," Trisha replies.

  Hunter doesn't like worry and fear laced in Trisha's voice. "Then Jason will start the process for her. I'll take her to your house, Jay, just in case Perry has figured out where we live. Trisha, can you go with Jason to our apartment and get her some clothes? I have some buddies in the NYPD. I'll see what they can do to help."

  He doesn't wait for their answers. As soon as he hands Jason his keys to the apartment, the door to the room opens.

  "She's clear to go. I've given her some literature on her condition. You can take her home now," the young female doctor informs Hunter. "Have Miss Lee see her Obstetrician this week. And...Take care of her." She shakes Hunter's hand before moving on to her next patients.

  Jason and Trisha leave without seeing Blanche. It's better if she has no idea that Perry in the city. Hunter can't have her worrying about him, not in her delicate condition. Take care of her. Hunter is determined to do more than that. He will protect her and their child. He will give them the world. And he will let himself love her.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Something isn't right. The hair on Hunter's back raises; goose bumps crawl along his spine.

  "Blanche," he whispers.

  "Did you say something, man?" his client, lying prone on the table with his back exposed, asks. "Are we done? Why did you stop?"

  His cellphone in his pocket is on vibrate. Hunter pulls it out to check if he has missed a call. When he's working, the vibration from the tattoo gun is all he can feel. There's a text message waiting for him from Marianne.

  "Give me a sec?" Hunter doesn't wait for his client to reply and leaves the room, sliding the door close behind him.

  He dials his brother's house number and Marianne picks up after the first ring. "Mare, is everything okay?"

  "Shit, Hunt, Bee left the house. She left me a note saying she'll be back, but I don't know when she left."

  Panic kicks in. He tugs his hair from agitation. A nervous lump forms in his throat.

  "I thought I asked you to watch her?"

  "Hunt, I'm sorry. I had to get the kids. She looked tired when I left. I didn't think she'd leave. I've tried her phone too but..."

  "But what?" Hunter barks at the phone.

  "It's here at home. She forgot to bring it." Mare's tone is too quiet. She's nervous. She's afraid.

  Hunter has asked his cop friends to look into Blanche's ex-boyfriend. He's also done a bit of research himself while Bee was asleep.

  Perry Fitzpatrick was once a business magnate, but his family disowned him after they recovered a gambling addiction. The man was used to the high life. He managed his own stock brokerage firm in Chicago, but once his clients have read about reports of his gambling problems, they've all left him high and dry. Hunter suspects that was when Perry's abuse to Blanche has begun.

  A few years ago, at a piano concerto, he met Blanche. From what Hunter has read, the couple continued dating during Blanche's international tours. She's played at concert halls all over the world, sought out by the masters at a very young age. There are no reports of Perry's abuse, but Hunter has found too many photos of the man with several different women in his arms. Hunter can't see how the two of them stayed in a relationship when Perry flagrantly dated other women while he was with Blanche. Even if Bee was too naive, her mother would have known. People around her should have told Bee.

  But quite possibly, to many of them, she was just another instrument to fame and fortune.

  How many times has Hunter watched the videos he's found online? To say Blanche is talented is a drastic understatement. When her fingers hit the keys, different emotions play on her face. Of grief, of happiness, of sorrow, and of satisfaction. But none of those expressions ever compares to the way she looks at him. The look of love. Or he hopes he isn't just dreaming it. One thing he's sure of, if his chest is cut open, Blanche's name will be carved on his heart.

  He loves her. He loves her tenacity, her sweetness, her candor, her strength, and her beauty. But boy, she is a stubborn woman.

  Hunter returns to the conversation, trying to keep his mind at ease. She could have gone to their apartment to get stuff, or to Trisha's, maybe even work. As far as Hunter knows, there isn't any other place Blanche goes to. Then again, she has never told him about her past life. What if she secretly practices at a studio somewhere?

  No, that's not possible. She's been trying to live her own life, a new one. With him. They've opened up to each other, trust one another. Yet, deep in the recesses of his mind, his own thoughts mock him. Should he have told Blanche about Perry's presence in the city?

  "Marianne, call Jay again. See if he can swing by his office. I'll go check the apartment quickly, and I'll call Trisha too to make sure she's not with her." He tried to keep his voice steady even thought his heart hasn't stopped beating like drums in his ribs.

  He ends the call and knocks at Red's office. Without waiting for her to ask him in, he opens the door. Red is at her desk, on the phone, most likely with Wolfe again.

  "I have to go, Red."

  His friend lifts her head as she continues to speak on the phone, "Hon, I'll call you back. I love you too." Then she hangs up. "Everything okay?"

  Hunter shakes his head. "We don't know where Bee is. Mate had to go to school to grab the boys. I gotta find her."

  Red simply nods. "I'll finish up whatever you've got," she says as she stands and heads to where Hunter stands. She clasps him on one shoulder. "Take your time and let me know when you find her."

  "Will do. Norm is in my room. Either finish him up or send him home. Up to you."

  Hunter walks briskly out the studio without bothering to say goodbye to anyone. The queasy feeling in his gut will not quit. It churns in the pit of his stomach, and continues when he rings Jay's office and doesn't get an answer, and when he talks to Trisha and Bee's friend tells him that she hasn't seen or spoken to Blanche all day.

  As he hails a cab to get to his apartment, he calls his friends with the NYPD and checks on any news they've recently received. They've been out on duty and unable to keep an eyes on Perry. Blanche's ex hasn't made a move, but it means nothing. He could be biding his time. Hunter doesn't want to get too spooked. Maybe Blanche did go to the office and she's on her way back to Jason and Marianne's. Maybe she decided to go shopping or have tea somewhere familiar. Take a little breather.

  Hunter wants to believe those possibilities, but something else in him won't keep still, and it's enough to drive him to the crazy house. Where can Blanche be? And wherever she is, he prays that she's safe. But somehow, Hunter gut tells him otherwise.

  "PERRY, WHAT ARE YOU doing here?" Despite dropping the tea and cookies, she doesn't want Perry to know how much he terrifies her, Blanche's trembling voice betrays her. She's not only afraid for herself, but also for her unborn child. Her hand flies to her belly protectively.

  At the corner of her eye, she sees the exit out of the office. Can she make it there without Perry pouncing on her? Unlikely. The phone sits beside Perry, and if she has the chance to call, it will be too late for anyone to get to her.

  "Darling, why I've been waiting for this moment!" Perry stands and stalks to where she's frozen. She smells the expensive cologne on his skin, and the thick alcohol in his breath. He doesn't appe
ar drunk, but he seems deranged. His eyes are clear, observant, threatening. A glint of something vicious hides behind those eyes she once thought beautiful.

  When he reaches for her, her instincts go on high alert. She cringes for a moment, ready for the blow that's about to come. Blanche steps back and hits the frame of the door to the kitchen.

  "Shhh... Now look at you, you're shaking, darling." He strokes her cheeks with the pads of his fingers. Then Perry plants his arms to the wall on her sides, caging her. His head lowers, and he speaks against her pressed lips. "Oh, Bee, I missed you, my darling."

  Blanche has trouble finding her voice, and when she speaks she tries to control her nerves. "Please, Perry." In her mind, she knows she can't show Perry that she's afraid. She'll soon be a mother. She has to protect her child.

  "Please what, darling?" He kisses her lips, and when she doesn't respond, he pulls at her hair, causing her to tilt her head and whimper at the sharp pain on her scalp. Perry takes this chance to press his mouth on hers, urging her to kiss back, roughly pushing his tongue into her mouth. "Is this what you want, Bee?" he rasps out. "You want it rough? I don't give a shit that you're pregnant, darling." A guttural chuckle escapes his mouth. "There are ways to get rid of that. All I need is to make a phone call and the baby's gone. You don't want one anyway. You never did. A child will only burden you. It will get in our way."

  No, she can't listen to these words. She can't let him say those things about her or her child. This is her child. Hers! Hers and Hunter’s. They will raise the baby together in a happy, loving home. That's what she wants. Perry is wrong.

  Perry shoves his tongue into her mouth again. He tastes of whiskey, stale cigars and desperation. Bile rises up her gut, threatening to spew out of her. If she vomits at Perry she will only anger him more, but it will buy her time. She needs courage. She needs to fight. Her heart pounds against her rib cage. Her hands turn into hard fists.

  He has turned her into something she is not once before. Never again. She's not weak. She doesn't take shit from anybody. Never again.

  "You know I've never fucked a pregnant woman before," Perry says as he runs his fingers over her breasts, down to her stomach. His words and actions make her cringe. "They say pregnant women are horny. Are you turned on right now, Bee? Do you want this?" He thrusts his hips forward, pressing the bulge in his pants on one side of her hips.

  Blanche pulls away, walks backwards into the kitchen. At least she knows where everything is inside the small room. She knows there's a knife in the drawer. She knows there are glasses on the shelf. She knows there's a window on the side that she can climb out of when she needs to run.

  "Perry, please, you need to leave. We are done. We're over."

  "No, Bee, no. You don't know what you're saying." Perry follows her in, keeping her close, and not giving her an inch to breathe. "We'll go back to Chicago together. Your mother will be happy. You'll continue doing that shit that you do."

  "I don't want that anymore, Perry. That's not my life anymore." She wants to get him talking in order to keep him distracted. "This is my life now."

  She should have seen the signs before. Perry isn't stable. All that he's presented in front of people is a mask, and behind that is face of a man whose gone into the deep end.

  "No!" His hand shoots up and hits her right on the jaw. A sharp ache spreads over her face and right ear. "See, this is what you make me do, Blanche!" He holds her up, and grabs her chin to face him.

  The force of his slap pushes her back, and she hits the edge of the counter. She attempts to pry his hands away from her; the more she tries to shake him off, the harder Perry grips her. The hand that was holding her chin moves down to her throat, and tightens.

  Blanche claws at his hand, while struggling to breathe. "Per...Perry," she manages to squeak out.

  "This is what you're making me do, Blanche. This is all on you. You should have stayed with me. You know how lost I am without you." He lifts his other hand to circle around her neck. A tender kiss finds her lips, so different from what else he's doing. "Tell me you won't leave again, Blanche, tell me." His voice lowers into a chilling whisper. "Tell me." He leans his forehead on hers as he slowly eases his grip.

  Blanche coughs and sputters. "Perry," her voice turns hoarse.

  "Yes, my darling?" He strokes her neck with his thumbs, not completely releasing his grip on her.

  On the counter, Blanche's hand finds the kettle she has placed earlier on a mat. She gauges its weight, then flings it up in the air and hits Perry on the side of his head. Hot water spills out of the kettle, splashing the side of Perry's face and burning him. He screams from the heat. Blanche averts her face and protects it with her hand, getting some of the hot water on her arm. The pain is instantaneous for both of them, but it has given Blanche the time that she needs to make an escape. She shoves Perry back and away from her, causing him to lose his balance, and he falls to the floor. Blanche runs toward the window, but Perry grips on her ankle and drags her back. She topples on her left side, one shoe flying off her foot. Perry, shouting obscenities at her, pulls at her leg, and she slides toward him. Blanche turns on her back and with her free foot, kicks at Perry who's pushing his way up and on her. She makes contact with one shoulder, forcing him to release his grip on her ankle.

  "Get away from me! Get away!"

  With both legs free, she takes all the energy she can muster and continues to kick the air, hoping that one will hit Perry. One foot hits him square in the jaw and he shrieks from the point of contact. Perry stumbles back again. She pushes herself to sitting and scrambles to the window.

  "You bitch! You'll pay for this, you fucking whore!" Perry shouts.

  Blanche doesn't turn. She keeps her eye on the goal—get to the window, climb down the rusted fire escape. But when she gets there, and tries to get the window open, it won't budge. She looks back and sees Perry, red-faced and fuming, charging at her, calling her every horrible name in the book. Blanche slaps and punches the windowpane, trying to shake it from the frame, and continue to force it open. It lifts an inch, but it gets stuck again.

  Then she hears a heavy thump and a groan behind her. When she looks back, she sees two men on the floor, stuck between the cabinets and the wall. Hunter's heavy frame looms over Perry, his hand bashing at Perry's face and chest. Hunter isn't saying anything. All his fume and rage are concentrated on each and every blow that lands on Perry. Behind them, Jason appears and he grips at his brother's arms, dislodging him from the man whose face has turned into a bloody pulp.

  "Enough, Hunter. You're going to kill him," Jay yells at his brother.

  Hunter kicks at Perry, writhing on the floor. His chest rises and lowers. His face is red from anger and hate. He lifts his head and looks at Blanche. She's frozen on the spot, clinging to the window frame, one hand protectively placed over the roundness of her belly. Her eyes widen. Her chest constricts. She struggles to breathe, keep her heart from leaping out, and her feet on the ground.

  With a swipe of the end of his sleeve, Hunter clears off his sweat and the blood that has splattered on his face. He makes his way to Blanche. As he stands in front of her, he keeps his hands low. He smoothens his features as he speaks to her, "Babe, it's okay. You're safe now. I'm here." Slowly, he wraps her in his arms. "I'm here," he says over and over again, as Blanche collapses onto him, clings to his bloodstained shirt, and heaves out a sob.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The sun has long disappeared behind the tall buildings by the time Hunter and Blanche reached their apartment, and the moon's light reflects on the glass panels surrounding them. They've received medical attention, although Hunter has tried to refuse to get checked out, protesting that he was fine and that he'd prefer all the medical team looked after Blanche instead.

  Cops are called in, but before they can slap the cuffs on Hunter, Jason states that both Hunter and Blanche have acted on self-defense. They've given their statements, and Hunter's cop friends are able to back him
up. The office immediately becomes a mad house as Perry is taken out in a stretcher. His face is virtually indistinguishable. His windpipe is nearly crushed.

  Throughout the dealings with the cops and paramedics, Hunter keeps a watchful eye on Blanche, looking for signs of distress and trauma. She seems fine for now, as many traumatized victims can be. He insists that she be taken at the hospital for some tests, telling everyone that she's pregnant and was recently released from hospital. They've checked on the skin on her arm, applying cream on her first degree burns. When she receives an all clear, Hunter still isn't satisfied, but Blanche begs him to take her home.

  "I want to rest, Hunter," she informs him, her eyes pleading.

  The ride to their apartment in Jason's car is spent in silence. Hunter sits beside her, wrapping her in a warm embrace. She doesn't struggle. She doesn't push him away. She welcomes his kisses and murmurs of affection.

  As soon as they step into the living room, Blanche places her hands on Hunter's chest. He holds them in his and pulls her in for another tight embrace. He feels her shoulders tremble, and the wetness on his shirt. In the dark, he cries with her.

  After both their tears have dried, he carries her to the bathroom, and fills the tub with water. Silently, he undresses her. Under the bright light, he sees the bruises around her neck forming. With tender hands, he traces her soft skin, studying it with critical eyes, looking for more signs of bruising or swelling. There are a few scratches on the side of her ribs, handprints on her arms and ankle, and the slight tenderness on her right arm. One side of her sweet, soft face has turned red and blotchy. He kisses her, tenderly, pressing his lips around all the battle scars, those that are visible and those that are not.