Wilde Heart (Wilde Women Book 2)

by Halliday, Suzanne

  Liam groaned, and her muscles contracted again. And again. And yet again. In perfect harmony, they came together—two souls, two hearts joined together in a union of perfection.

  Rhiann wasn’t sure how she survived the horrible nightmare that tore at her soul or the intensity of the lovemaking that followed. Hours later, she was still struggling from both.

  Having little appetite and absolutely no desire for food, she’d picked at her breakfast while her two male companions watched her in impenetrable silence. When Roman asked if she wanted to take a run along the beach, she almost jumped out of her skin, answering with a vehement, “No,” so swiftly that his brows shot up. The way she was feeling at the present time, with leftover anxiety bouncing inside her like demented pinballs, she might never do a beach run ever again.

  At mid-morning, she quietly retreated to the sunroom with her laptop, thinking that she might as well get some work done—but in her present mood, stringing coherent words together to form a story was almost a joke.

  While she struggled to keep it together, Liam and Roman stayed busy while also keeping a close eye on her. It was comforting to know they were so concerned.

  Lunch came and went and still she couldn’t work up enough enthusiasm to eat. Didn’t take long for her watchers to exchange meaningful looks. Knowing she was driving them crazy—especially Liam—Rhiann announced she was going to take a nap and quickly disappeared into the bedroom.

  Like she knew he would, Liam turned up a few minutes later, his expression solemn and concerned.

  He joined her on the bed—on top of the covers—and turned on his side to look at her.

  “Can you tell me what the dream was about? I think you should talk about it. You will feel better.”

  Rhi sighed heavily and turned to face him. How could she explain? What could she say that would make any sense? Dreams, or rather nightmares, were rarely cut-and-dried, and hers had been no exception.

  “Honey,” he muttered, reaching out to swipe some hair behind her ear. “You are my forever love. Nothing can come between us, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  If he sought to reassure her with the heartfelt declaration, he couldn’t be more wrong. She knew all that, although hearing him call her his forever love pretty much melted her heart. Rhiann knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Shit. Neither was she. Not willingly.

  But the reality was, they were in a fucked-up situation with danger and threats at every turn. What if her dream had been a foreshadowing of a tragedy yet to show its face? Fearful that Kim had found a chink in their protective firewall, Rhi was nearly beside herself with worry.

  Biting her lip, she willed the tears to stay away before meeting his worried eyes.

  “She’s going to try and separate us, you know. I can feel it.”

  Liam’s mouth thinned to a grim line. “Fuck her.”

  If he imagined she’d come back with a pithy retort, he’d be waiting for a while. For once, she didn’t have a sarcastic or mocking reply at the ready.

  In a small whisper, she shared her worst fears. “She won’t stop till someone gets hurt. Or worse. That’s the way these things go, Liam. Kim isn’t going to suddenly wake up and think, Oh, my bad, and try to make things right. It’s already gone too far for that.”

  She held her breath, waiting to see what he said.

  “I will kill her if she touches you.”

  Rhiann’s stomach lurched at the angry passion she heard in his words. Her voice when she answered his threat was so tiny and scared, it sounded strange to her ears.

  “What if she goes after you?”

  “Roman will make sure nothing happens to either of us.”

  “I don’t want him to get hurt, either,” she moaned.

  Liam leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead. “You have such a big heart.”

  “Family trait, I guess,” she told him. “Wilde women . . . Wilde hearts.”

  He smiled. “I’m honored. No, humbled—to be on the receiving end of so fearsome a trait.”

  “I mean it, Liam. It’d kill me if anything happened to you. Or Roman.”

  “I know, honey. Just try not to worry so, okay? Let the men do what they do.”

  She rolled her eyes at his adorable jest.

  He kissed her forehead again and pulled the covers up to her chin. “Nap time, woman. Close your eyes and relax. When you get up, we’ll go to that shit hole restaurant down on the beach you’ve been rattling on about.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him and pouted. “It’s not a shit hole.”

  This time, he laughed softly. “I know. Just wanted to see you smile. Rest, Rhiann. And please stop worrying.”

  He and Roman set up a series of video chats with everyone from Marjorie at BPG Headquarters to Gary in Liam’s security office and even the couple across the street, who were doing the local surveillance.

  Roman’s former service comrade, Cameron Justice also weighed in. And good god, was that guy ever a scary monster. Someone he most definitely didn’t care to fuck with and that was saying a lot. Talk about serious with a take no prisoners approach! No wonder the dude’s agency was so exclusive.

  After conferring with all those parties, it was agreed that Kim was definitely on the run and had gone to ground in a hurry. Was she here? In Nags Head? There was little doubt about that, too.

  A round-the-clock watch over the house and Rhiann went into immediate effect. Looked like him and Roman along with Donna from the house nearby and her husband Smith weren’t going to be getting much sleep. Roman, who had more fucking surveillance toys than Liam ever imagined even produced a pair of night vision goggles to make eyeballing the property and the beach road easier.

  Marjorie had managed to shut down the leaks running rampant at BPG with a few well-placed falsehoods that were easily tracked back to the source. With Kim MIA, her toady little butt buddy Katherine Martin was running the bitch show. By the time Gardener the Guard Dog was finished with the stupid shit, she’d been chewed up, spit out, chewed up again, and puked into the trash. Good riddance, too.

  Now, it seemed, all that was left was the waiting game. Something had to give. And give soon. Because Liam wasn’t sure how much more Rhiann could take.

  When his normally spunky lady emerged from the bedroom after a good long nap, she was quiet and the dark circles under her eyes were still there but she no longer seemed like she would dissolve into tears if the phone rang or the toast burned. That was progress, right?

  Roman tried cheering her up with a superbly tacky Outer Banks souvenir he’d grabbed at the mini-mart down the road. When a paperweight with a simulated pile of horse poop—from the Nag of Nag’s Head, get it?—didn’t get much more than an anemic snicker, Liam knew they weren’t in the clear just yet.

  Hopefully, dinner at a local restaurant Rhiann saw on some TV show would cheer her up.

  And after that? Well, he’d bring her back here, maybe bathe her in the ginormous soaking tub in their en suite—girls liked that shit, didn’t they?—and then he’d take her to bed and spend the night making love to her until all her fears were banished.

  Sounded like a good plan to him.

  “SERIOUSLY?” ROMAN GRIPED. “THIS IS where you’ve been dying to eat?”

  “Hush, you,” Rhiann told him with a less-than-believable frown. “This place was on Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives so it has to be good.”

  “You take dinner suggestions from a guy with hair like that?”

  Liam was enjoying their friendly banter. Roman seemed to have a knack for drawing her out and that was just what she needed right now.

  Holding her hand tightly in his, he walked by her side and didn’t miss the impish snicker right before she told him, “By the way, I was right about those jeans. They, uh . . . do a package good.”

  Okay, now there was the naughty mouth he knew and loved. Thank fucking god. He’d been about to get really worried. No way was he used to a pensive, silent Rhiann. Made him nervous as shit when she st
opped with the snark.

  They must have arrived at the perfect time because the hostess seated them immediately at a round top tucked in an out-of-the-way corner where they could relax.

  Completely ignoring the menu, Rhiann struck up a lively conversation with their waitress, telling her they wanted a little bit of everything. Something from the steamer menu, another appetizer that was apparently the shiznit, and a main course for her that had been featured on the TV show. Roman, who approached every meal like a true carnivore, got the biggest, bloodiest steak in the kitchen while Liam opted for a plate of what he knew would be the messiest baby back ribs on the planet. Maybe the jeans were a good idea, after all.

  After a round of vodka and cranberry cocktails, chick drinks as Rhiann so sweetly smirked, everyone was smiling, the jokes were whizzing and finally, at last—whatever had crawled up Rhiann’s skirt was pushed back into the shadows.

  And speaking of her damn skirt, she looked like a million bucks in one of those clingy sweater dresses she favored, cinched with a wide belt that made her ass look like it should be on the damn menu. The suede boots, something she wore frequently, fired up his libido—not that it needed any help.

  When their meals arrived, they each dug in like they hadn’t eaten in a month. Liam thought it was pretty funny because they’d put away a serious appetizer pile of shrimp, clams, and crab legs.

  “It’s the sea air,” Rhiann insisted for why the three of them were eating everything in sight.

  “Oh, my god, I’m going to explode.” She chuckled,pushing her plate away. Glancing around furtively to make sure no one was watching, she hilariously loosened her belt and let out a belch that would do any guy’s locker room proud.

  The sound was so shocking and so big considering how small she was that he and Roman nearly toppled off their chairs with unrestrained laughter.

  Wiping away some hysterical tears, Roman—the cocky bastard—shot him a half grin and taunted, “You sleep with that? Holy shit, man. Hope you keep a window open.”

  Rhiann punched him soundly on the bicep and growled. His good-natured flinch and the way he whined, “Owwww!” got a big laugh.

  Pushing back from the table, she stood up which immediately got him and Roman leaping to their feet.

  Mockingly fanning herself, Rhiann giggled and said, “Oh my, my! Such gentlemanly manners. Swoon!”

  A woman seated nearby snickered and smacked her husband on the arm. “See! That’s how it’s done.” The poor guy glared at him with a black expression then went back to his meal. That he kept his ball cap on all through dinner was a pretty good indicator of how deep the dude’s manners ran.

  Rhiann covered her mouth and looked at him wide-eyed with an Oh my god expression that had him grinning ear to ear.

  “If you gentlemen will excuse me.” She smiled sweetly, dropping her napkin on the table. “It’s time for me to visit the ladies’ room.”

  Their waitress happened by at that moment for Rhiann to inquire where the restrooms were.

  “Blue sign hanging over the bar with an arrow. Can’t miss it.”

  Some part of Liam, the one that was more comfortable in a suit than jeans, marveled that he’d just had one of the best meals of his life in an establishment with a sign and an arrow showing the way to the bathrooms. Wonders never ceased.

  As Rhiann trotted off to do her thing, he and Roman got into a ridiculous discussion about whether or not to order up a wood-fired pizza—or two—to take home with them. Like they hadn’t had enough to eat already! And knowing his feisty sidekick, she was most likely going to insist that there be ice cream before the night was through.

  “Dammit,” Rhi muttered aloud as she huddled in the cramped stall with a wad of flimsy toilet paper clutched in her hand. Why hadn’t she brought her purse with her? Didn’t do much good to attempt a freshen-up without a hairbrush and her favorite lip balm.

  Oh well. She could still stick her face in the mirror and make sure there were no foreign objects stuck in her teeth.

  Flushing, she stood and re-hooked her belt with a hand pressed to her tummy. That’s what you get for not eating all day, her mind screamed!

  Humming a happy tune, she backed out of the stall and made for the sink area, which was dimly lit at best. As she bent over to wash her hands, something poked her in the hip that had her gasping and jerking upright.

  What the hell?

  You know that moment in a good story when everything slows down right before the shit hits the fan? Well. That was exactly what this felt like.

  “Hello, Wilde. Surprised to see me?”

  Holy mother of god—no! This couldn’t be happening, but it was. There, in all her demonic glory, was Jane Kimberly Allen Walsh . . . in a black bobbed wig wearing a black turtleneck and dark jeans.

  Fuck. All dressed up like a Black Widow and what was that poking in her side? Motherfucker had a gun. She had an actual, goddamn gun. And Rhiann? No purse. No phone. No pepper spray. No nothing. Just her and a crazy lady in a crappy bathroom at the back of a busy restaurant well away from where Rhiann’s two protectors were waiting for her.

  This. Wasn’t. Good.

  “If you say one word or so much as look in anyone’s direction, I will blow a hole through that empty skull of yours and then put a bullet in Liam. Understood?”

  Roman looked at his watch and frowned. “She’s been gone a good long time, Boss. I better go check and see what’s holding her up. Probably stocking up on more cheesy souvenirs in the gift shop.”

  Before Roman was out of his chair, Liam shot to his feet. “Something’s not right. I can feel it.”

  Grabbing Rhiann’s purse, he dropped a huge wad of bills on the table—more than enough to cover their dinner and probably everyone else’s in the room—and bolted from the dining room with his bodyguard in fast pursuit.

  “Where’s the ladies’ room?” he barked at the hostess who quickly pointed toward the bar with a shocked expression.

  In seconds, he and Bishop were standing in a dark hallway with three marked doors. One was labeled the men’s, the other a ladies’ room, and further along was another door with an illuminated sign that read EMERGENCY EXIT. And it was open.

  Roman didn’t hesitate to go barging into the ladies’ room while Liam stuck his head in the men’s room just in case.

  “Nothing,” Roman barked. “Fuck,” he growled as he fired up his cell phone.

  Liam could only stand there in absolute shock. What was happening? Where the hell was she?

  “You looking for the lady you came in with?” asked a pleasant sounding voice.

  Turning, he saw their waitress at the corner of the hallway where the server’s station was situated.

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “Have you seen her?”

  “Sure,” she answered. “She just left. Maybe ten minutes ago.”

  “Left?” he quizzed as panic grabbed him by the throat.

  “Was she alone?” Roman asked.

  “No. Actually she was with another customer. A woman. I saw them in the hallway together.”

  He and Roman literally sprinted to the emergency exit and flung it open. Scanning the packed parking lot and finding no movement, they were about to go back in the restaurant when the surfer dude valet asked if they needed help.

  Liam was pretty sure he was going to vomit all over the kid’s Vans. Roman put a hand on his shoulder for reassurance. How was that even possible? And then he morphed into bodyguard mode and began questioning the pimple-faced kid.

  In under a minute, they knew that Rhiann was seen leaving with a dark-haired woman. They got in a yellow Jeep and headed for the main road.

  Throwing the car keys at the valet, Roman barked in a brisk, businesslike tone to bring their car around then backed Liam up against the exterior wall of the restaurant.

  “Do not move a fucking muscle. Understood?” he growled.

  Liam nodded and froze. Roman had placed him somewhere where he could protect him—the irony of the situat
ion wasn’t lost on him.

  With his back turned so he was facing the parking area, but close enough to Liam so he’d know if he so much as shuffled his feet, Roman got on the phone and began barking instructions.

  Alert the local authorities.

  Call Cameron Justice and have him pin down how she got a car and double check to see if she had a permit to carry.

  Send Smith to the house—apparently, Roman had given the couple a key for just such an occasion—and check the place out.

  And Liam? His fucking life was passing before his eyes. Rhiann. Oh, my god. Kim had her. He was going to murder the bitch with his bare hands when they found her. If they found her.

  Rhiann was trying desperately not to hyperventilate. Kim, the psycho bitch, had duct-taped her mouth then her hands before shoving her face first into the rear storage area of a smaller SUV. She then managed to do the same to her knees and feet like an experienced rodeo calf-roper working against the clock.

  She knew that keeping her wits about her was key to getting out of this mess in one piece so she concentrated on counting—slowly—hoping to establish a frame of reference for how long they drove. But it was nighttime and the darkness inside the car compounded her anxiety.

  Making matters worse was the muttering coming from the driver. Rhi could only make out a few words here and there over the sound of her panicked heart rate and the blood rushing to her head. Of course, each time she heard Liam, her terror kicked up a notch. She had to concentrate on keeping the bile from rushing into her gagged mouth so she didn’t choke to death.

  Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes later—dammit, she lost count and really didn’t know—the car made a series of stops and turns before slowing to a halt. Rhiann’s heart was well and truly pounding in her chest.

  Kim appeared in her line of sight when the rear hatch flung open. She produced a knife and made sure Rhi saw it before sneering maliciously and quickly slicing the tape that held her legs and ankles together.