Wilde Heart (Wilde Women Book 2)

by Halliday, Suzanne

  Hurry, baby, she cried in her head. There was never going to be a better moment than this one.

  Kim stumbled out of her seat and walked to the door, violently kicking it and growling, “Go away!”

  The scratching came again. Only this time it was louder. More insistent.

  “Fucking cats. I hate the smelly things. The other white meat,” Kim snorted, clearly amused at her own sick jest.

  Banging her foot against the door again, she barked like a dog as if that was going to scare off a real cat.

  When Kim turned her back on the door and walked toward her, Rhiann saw the doorknob slowly move. Testing to see if it was locked. This was it.

  Please, God, she prayed. Make me brave and fearless.

  As she approached, Kim took her eyes off Rhiann to glance at the TV and she knew her chance had come.

  Mess with me, you crazy bitch—mess with my boys and you get what’s coming your way. Fuck off and die, Rhiann thought.

  With the gun lowered, a clearly exhausted Kim, and what she hoped and prayed was Roman and every badass motherfucker he could find on the other side of that door, she made her move.

  Judging the distance between her and her captor, Rhiann suddenly lurched from her seat, straightened, sucked in a deep breath and with Kim’s astonished eyes blinking rapidly at her surprise move, she went into beast mode and roundhouse kicked the fucking bitch with such force that she literally went flying, crashing into the TV with a loud bang. Along the way, the gun flew out of her hand and hit the wall, going off in the process.

  Howling like the crazy hose beast she was, Kim came right back at her but when the gun went off, all hell broke loose and within seconds, the door was rammed open and what felt like a dozen armed men came crashing in. Leaping, Kim launched herself straight into Rhiann’s stomach, flattening her against the wall. Having caught her unawares, Rhi’s head thumped loudly with a sickening crack. Just before the darkness claimed her, she heard Roman’s angry growl. “Give me a reason to blow your fucking head off.”

  Liam was a bundle of nerves. In fact, he was so jacked up, he wasn’t sure he was actually breathing.

  They were at an old motor inn that looked to him like its heyday had been sometime in the seventies. It was deathly quiet, more so because it was the last hours of darkness before dawn, when nothing in the beach town was moving.

  But him? He was almost jumping out of his skin. The car he had ridden in was moving from the force of his legs shaking as he whirled this way and that, trying to keep an eye on everything that was happening.

  Royally pissed that they wouldn’t let him leave the car, he was battling a feeling of helplessness along with a ferocious anger that had been steadily building for hours.

  Finding Kim had been ridiculously easy once Cam had given the authorities her location details. And that obnoxious yellow colored Jeep? Huge mistake on her part. All it took was a single drive-by to figure out what motel they were in and what room. Bitch wasn’t as clever as she imagined.

  Numb as he was—anxiety had a way of doing that—he had been floored when a slew of shit-kicking FBI agents appeared out of fucking nowhere just as the police were gearing up to converge on the motel. He had no idea why they were there and didn’t care. Just mattered that they were.

  Everyone was in place and doing whatever the hell it was that they did in situations like this when out of the deep silence he heard a single gunshot.

  Holy motherfucking shit. Liam was out of the car and running toward the commotion before anyone could stop him.

  As he approached the motel room door, the one that was now in pieces, his legs very nearly buckled when he heard an officer shout, “Get an ambulance here, stat!”

  Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Rhiann . . .

  Pushing his way frantically through the group of police crowded in the room, he barely registered that their guns were drawn and ignored the keening wails coming from whatever or whoever they were directing their weapons at.

  He found Roman crouched on the floor and almost fell to his knees as fear punched its way through his system.

  “Roman?” he ground out before the terror loosed inside him stole his ability to speak.

  Holstering his gun, the bodyguard turned and waved him closer. All the blood in Liam’s head rushed to his feet so fast his vision was edged with blackness when he saw Rhiann crumpled on the ground, blood running from her forehead.

  “She’s alive,” he was assured as Liam pushed him aside and fell to his knees beside her unmoving form.

  “Shot?” That’s the only word he could find.

  “No—but looks like she took a hit to the head.”

  Looked like quite a bit more than a head bump when Liam swiftly ran his eyes over her from head to toe.

  Besides the trickle of red making its way down the side of her face, she had a large welt on her cheek, and one eye was completely swollen shut. A large hunk of silver duct tape was hanging off the corner of her mouth.

  As he slid closer, lifting her unmoving body into his arms, Liam cradled her gently, barely aware that Roman was reaching underneath her until he moved her hands and lay them on her stomach. Angry red marks wrapped her wrists.

  “The EMTs are on their way,” his friend murmured low so only he could hear. Liam nodded but couldn’t form a response. Seeing his Rhiann sprawled on the shitty carpet in this shitty motel room with blood dripping and gruesome injury to her beautiful face was more than he could wrap his mind around.

  Through the noise in his head, he picked up on someone calling his name. Eyes filled with a murderous rage, he turned toward the sound to see a screaming and hysterical Kim huddled in a corner with half a dozen guns pointed at her head.

  “Liam! Tell them. Tell them this is what you wanted. Tell them how that little bitch was fucking your bodyguard. Tell them, dammit!”

  He turned to Roman and scowled. “Shut her the fuck up before I snap her neck like a twig.”

  He watched as they dragged Kim to her feet and handcuffed while she screamed unintelligible bullshit about their supposed involvement. An officer was reciting her rights in a gruff monotone. The whole scene was surreal.

  Within seconds of Kim being rather unceremoniously hauled from the room, two EMTs pushed through the officers still present.

  Roman had pulled him away when he refused to let go of her saying, “Liam. Let them help her, man.”

  Maybe he’d feel bad about it later but right now, he fought against the man’s restraining grip. “No!” he growled. “Rhiann, Rhiann . . .”

  Panic was racing through him. She still wasn’t moving—hadn’t responded. This could not be good.

  Two more ambulance personnel rushed into the room with a stretcher. He watched in horror, Roman keeping Liam in check with his arms locked tight around his elbows, as they immobilized her head and began an IV.

  As they lifted her onto the rolling stretcher, one of the EMTs told Roman, “We’re transporting to the hospital. Get him under control,” the guy nodded in Liam’s direction. “Milepost fourteen,” he grumbled and then they wheeled her out.

  SOMETHING WET WAS ON HER face. What was it, she wondered. Struggling to open her eyes, Rhiann heard more than felt a shuddering inhale as her chest expanded with the deep breath. Her throat felt dry and though she tried to swallow, nothing happened.

  “Oh god, Rhiann. Please open your eyes, please.”

  The anguished groan she heard was coming from Liam. She’d know that voice anywhere—even when it was laced with an anguish she’d never heard before.

  Unf. Ugh. Everything hurt, her head most of all. She tried to open her eyes, but only one seemed to be working. Through a tiny slit, she saw the hazy outline of a man bent over her. Was that her hand he was clutching to his chest? She couldn’t tell. The parts of her that didn’t hurt like a motherfucker were just numb.

  Slowly, her eyesight cleared and the sight of her scowling man, tears on his cheeks, transfixed her as he leaned close, whispe
ring gently, “Come on, brave girl. Open those pretty eyes and come back to me, honey.”

  Croaking, her mouth and throat so parched it was painful, she whimpered. “Are you all right?”

  At the sound of her labored voice, his eyes immediately shot to hers. Or rather, shot to her one eye because the other one seemed to be permanently shut.

  On what she swore was a choked sob, he put his forehead gently on hers and groaned. “I can’t believe the first thing you ask after finally coming to is whether I’m all right. Fuck, Rhiann. What did I ever do to deserve you?”

  Yeah, whatever. “Answer me,” she rasped.

  Placing an arm beneath her neck, he lifted her slightly until she winced and tensed up. Shit. Did everything have to hurt like this?

  “Shhh, honey. Here, take a sip,” he commanded as something hit her lips. A straw?

  Pulling feebly on the plastic, a dribble of cool liquid brought a measure of relief to her dry mouth.

  “Little bit more,” he encouraged in a soothing voice.

  Hmmph. The next cautious sip felt like heaven although the swallowing part was still difficult.

  “Liam?”

  “No talking,” he murmured, kissing her lips softly. “Everything’s going to be okay now. You rest. I’m here.”

  “You’re okay?” she choked out, her eye drifting closed again.

  “Never better,” he husked.

  “Love . . .” she mumbled as a need to sleep overtook her.

  “The media is swooping in,” Roman informed a still tense but very relieved Liam.

  “Get Marjorie on it. You have better things to do,” he grumbled. “And I don’t want Rhiann’s parents being the last to know anything. Have you talked to them?”

  “Yep. Got the good professor on speed dial. He wants to talk to you.”

  Liam snorted. “Yeah, I bet he does.”

  “Told me to tell you something. Smart guy. I like the way his mind works.”

  “What did he say?” Liam prepared for a profanity-laced warning full of parental threats. He expected no less from a man he respected, had betrayed by his own shameless actions, and who must be wondering what in the hell his daughter was doing with a guy like him.

  “And I quote,” Roman said. “There is an innocence in admiration; it is found in those to whom it has never yet occurred that they, too, might be admired some day.”

  He looked at the man to whom he owed a debt of gratitude so large, it could never be repaid.

  “Nietzsche.”

  “What’s it mean?” he asked.

  Roman quirked a half grin. “It means, look in the mirror.”

  “Are they coming to get her? Take her home?” he asked wretchedly.

  “Dude,” Roman answered with a snicker. “She won’t go anywhere—except with you. Professor Wilde knows that. But, I took the liberty before speaking to him of arranging a flight into Norfolk. Donna and Smith will pick him up at the airport and bring him here tomorrow afternoon. The wife apparently is out of town at the moment. A conference or something like that. ”

  Liam thought long and hard. About everything. His love for Rhiann. The way he’d put her parents on a pedestal. His own mom and how much he missed her. The business he built from dirt. Until that moment, he’d assumed that admiration and how it intersected in his life was a one-way street.

  Turning emotional eyes on his friend, he murmured, “I love her so much, Roman. And if she gives me the chance, I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure she knows that.”

  The smack on his back actually felt good.

  “That’s what I told them. More or less. Come on, Boss. Let’s go make some noise and see if we can’t wake Princess Snarks-a-Lot up. Time to let the wild rumpus begin anew.”

  While Roman snickered at his own jest, Liam breathed a deep sigh.

  “We’re going to revisit that Boss thing. And soon,” he told him.

  With a mocking eye roll, Roman quipped, “Yeah? I’m thinking a knighthood might be in order.”

  “Those are the ugliest shoes I’ve ever seen. And who the heck is Alexander McQueen? Isn’t he an actor or something?”

  Oh, my Lord! Who is Alexander McQueen? Blasphemy, Rhi’s mind kvetched. His shoe designs might have been a bit too avant-garde for her tastes, but she very much appreciated his unique eye for creating fabulous footwear.

  “Just give me a good ol’ pair of boring Oxfords and I’m good.”

  Boring Oxfords? There was something familiar about that. What was it?

  Rhiann shifted and immediately moaned when her whole body complained and her head thumped painfully.

  “Now your mom, she’s got a thing for moccasins all of a sudden. I keep telling her that something so plain and uninteresting would never do for our Rhiann. Nope. You’re going to have to get on her about that, sweetheart.”

  “Daddy?” Trying to talk was a chore and her voice sounded hoarse and raspy.

  “I’m here, sweetie,” she heard him say. He chuckled softly and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I knew talking about shoes would get a reaction out of you.”

  Rhi opened her eyes as best she could and grimaced at the bright lights. Ugh. She was still in the hospital. Damn.

  “Daughter,” he murmured. “You look like bloody hell.”

  She wasn’t normally a crybaby but hearing a slight quaver in her dad’s voice pushed her over the edge. Gently lifting her into his arms, he held her while she sobbed.

  Unfortunately, the crying only made the extreme puffiness in her bruised eye worse and made the other one a total mess.

  With all the tenderness and care you would use on a newborn, her father wiped away the tears, cleaned up her snotty nose, tucked the flimsy hospital bedding securely around her, and eased Rhiann into an upright position.

  “Where’s Mom?” she choked out. “I want to see her.”

  “Sorry, sweetheart. You’ll have to do with just me. Mom’s at a school-age conference in New Orleans. If we’d known you were going to get kidnapped and assaulted, she wouldn’t have gone—but there you have it.”

  “You’re on your own? Mom left you on your own?” she asked.

  “Hey,” he chided with a deep chuckle. “I can order takeout just the same as anyone else! And, besides, your mom loves those out-of-town conferences. After the workshops, it’s all margaritas and Magic Mike strippers.”

  The bubble of laughter in her chest hurt like hell when it burst free. Cocktails and hot guys—and a bunch of teachers and program directors? Hardly!

  “Does she know? About what happened?”

  “No. There’s nothing that her knowing would change. She’d only worry herself sick. Brynn and Jax have agreed not to say anything for now.”

  God. What a mess everything turned into. “I’m so sorry, Daddy.”

  He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “You have nothing to be sorry for, daughter. Understand?”

  On a reflex, Rhi’s gaze searched the room.

  “He’s not here, Rhiann.”

  Anxiety cut through the pain medication, and if she could have sat her aching body up straighter, she would have. “Where is he? Did you send him away? This isn’t his fault.” Her heart was pounding in her chest. “I need him,” she cried out.

  There was a tap at her door. Her and her dad glanced that way just as the door swung open and Roman walked in.

  “Roman,” she croaked, her lip trembling. “Where is he?” Rhiann grabbed at the sheets on the bed and held on tight. Her whole world felt like it was wobbling.

  She heard Roman mutter, “Oh shit,” and then he was at her side.

  “It’s okay, Princess. Calm yourself.”

  “No,” she growled. “I have to go to him.”

  Kicking her feet to dislodge the sheets, she went to yank the I.V. from her hand, but Roman stopped her and her dad yelped.

  “Rhiann! My god. Stay still, sweetie. I didn’t send him away. Why would you think that? Mr. Bishop,” he implored in an alarmed voice. “Te
ll her.”

  Roman reacted quickly and leaned over her, an arm on each side of her so she couldn’t move.

  “Rhiann,” he barked gently. “Look at me.”

  She’d love to but with one eye battered, bruised, and swollen shut and the other in not much better shape, she was at a bit of a disadvantage.

  “I can’t,” she whined. Hot tears spilled and she sniffed or rather snort-sniffed as her emotions went haywire.

  “Okay. Then just listen. And please, Princess. Calm the fuck down.”

  She heard her dad make a sound followed by Roman muttering, “Sorry, Professor.”

  “My girls all swear like a trio of badass Marines, Mr. Bishop. I’m used to all manner of profanity, although I wouldn’t object any if her head injury resulted in a little less fuck and bother.”

  Roman’s snort of amusement and her father’s clever turn of a phrase was enough to help Rhi back off. Just a bit. But she still needed Liam. And she needed him now.

  “Roman?”

  “He’s here, Miss Wilde. Here in the hospital. I just left him in the coffee shop to come and talk with you and your dad. Give you both an update.”

  “Well, I’m not talking to you. Either of you,” she grumped, “until I know he’s all right.”

  “Has she always been so bossy?” she heard Roman ask.

  Her father chuckled. “See these grey hairs? One-third, Rhiann. One third, Brynn and one-third, Charlize. Being the only man in a house full of girls will make a man re-think who exactly is in charge.”

  Roman jostled her leg with his arm to get her attention. “I’ll text him in a minute, Princess, and believe me—he’ll be here in a heartbeat if he knows you’re asking for him. But he really wanted me to have a couple of minutes with just you and the professor. There are things you should know. And things your parents need to hear.”

  Rhiann knew damn well Roman was going to win this round so she grunted a snarky sounding, “Hmmph,” but otherwise stayed silent, figuring that was the fastest and easiest way to get Liam to her side.