It took Ian almost a full minute before he could breathe again.
“We’re here. We made it,” Kate announced. She slowed, bringing the BMW to a sliding, nearly sideways stop in front of the church. Saint Luke’s, now a historical site according to the sign out front, was an old stone building with a tall white steeple.
More gargoyles filled the air. They circled overhead like vultures, shrieking and swooping. Another was scaling the side of the church.
He and Kate sprinted for the front doors, Praesus right behind them. Tires squealed as the Marauder came to a stop. Ian didn’t look back. Another bullet whizzed past them. Good thing the guy was a crappy shot, but Ian still didn’t feel like standing around. He tugged at the oversized wooden doors, expecting them to be locked, because that’d be their luck. But the one on the right swung open. They rushed in like a whirlwind, the sound of their footsteps and shouts booming in the chapel. Arched beams graced the tall cathedral ceilings. The place smelled of old wood, varnish, and aged plaster. Ian’s human side might not have taken notice of such scents, but his wolf side did.
Praesus scampered in front of them, running down the aisle between the vast rows of pews toward another door. He reached it moments before Kate. She pulled the door open, exposing a spiral stairwell. Praesus ran ahead of them, easily leaping from step to step.
“I guess Declan is in here somewhere,” Ian noted.
“Follow the little guy, then,” Kate said, her face still strained. “Let’s do this.”
Ian detected something other than fear in her voice, or maybe it was just his imagination. Kate was already running up the stairs after Praesus. He wanted to run past her, find a dark corner, and change. He’d be ready for whoever was trying to kill them. But if he did that, he wouldn’t be behind her now, shielding her. And what would she think? He hadn’t told her what he’d become. It wasn’t like he was lying to her. He simply hadn’t come clean on certain facts. Just like he hadn’t mentioned why the gargoyles didn’t step in to protect her against the nut job chasing them.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Kate
Kate opened the door at the top of the stairs. At one time this floor must have housed priests or nuns, or maybe it had served as a makeshift hospital. A few old iron beds with shabby, flimsy mattresses were still in place. There were rooms on either side of the floor. Their original wooden doors—which had been painted green to match the doorframes, but were now cracked and peeling—stood ajar. Whatever this floor had been used for, it was currently undergoing renovations. There were paint cans and ladders, old boxes that had been packed and pushed away from the walls. Unless Declan was in one of those rooms, he wasn’t here.
She followed Ian to the center of the floor. There was no other staircase and no other way out of the building except through a window. The fall wouldn’t kill them, but the sudden stop at the end might.
They were trapped.
“I thought Declan told you he’d be here,” Kate said.
“He did.” Ian raked a hand through his hair as he spun around, looking for a better way out. There wasn’t one.
Kate didn’t want to ask the obvious: now what?
Ian turned to her. “Trust me, okay? Stay here. I’m going into the last room on the left. You hide in the first room. I’ll make some noise, lure this guy in. When I do, you run.”
“No! I’m not—”
“You run, Kate. You get out of here; no matter what you hear, you run.”
“Ian—”
“I have a plan. It’ll work. Declan sent me to protect you, and I can. Without a doubt.”
“Ian, no!” She needed him to shut up for just a second so she could tell him. Kate leaned in and kissed him. Before he could comment, she placed a finger over his lips. “Stay with me.”
“Kate, please.”
“Together, Ian. Remember? We’re a team.”
“I’m not the same guy you thought you knew. Just trust me. Now go. Hide. He’s probably done checking for us downstairs. He’ll be here soon.”
Not the same guy. What was he talking about?
The guy with the gun shouted, “KATE!”
She’d heard that voice before. But where? The set. It was someone from the set.
Hatcher?
“Trust me, Kate,” Ian repeated. “Just give me a few minutes.”
Trust. She nodded. Hatcher would be up here any moment. She did trust Ian. But he was wrong if he thought she was going to run and leave him here. Once Ian lured Hatcher, she’d help fight him. The problem was, Hatcher was armed. They weren’t. “Just be careful.”
“I promise.” He brushed a hand across her cheek.
He watched as she went into the closest room. This room was currently used as an office. The desk was a better hiding spot than the filing cabinet. Kate crawled under the desk and listened as Ian walked away. When she was sure he couldn’t hear her, she crawled back out and rummaged through the drawers. There had to be something, anything, she could use as a weapon. She pushed aside a stapler, tape, pens. Finally she came across a pair of scissors. She grabbed them, closed the drawer, and took cover under the desk.
Kate wrapped her arms tightly around herself. She was painfully aware of how loud her breathing sounded.
The door to the stairwell creaked.
“Kate? Come out, please. I only want to talk to you. You’re making a mistake. I’m here to help you.”
Hatcher was here. Her earlier impressions of him being weird on set had been an understatement. He was full-on crazy. Still, if Hatcher had meant to kill her, wouldn’t he have done it already? No. It wasn’t her or Praesus Hatcher had been shooting at. The notes on the gate, Michael’s suicide note . . .
It’s all for you, Kate.
He’d killed Michael.
He’d kill Ian next.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Hatcher
Hatcher threw open the front door to the church. A quick scan showed only one other door. He walked down the aisle, glancing left and right, making sure Kate and the temporary boyfriend hadn’t taken refuge in one of the rows. He listened carefully, pleased that his sneakered feet didn’t make a sound.
A dark shadow eclipsed one of the tall stained glass windows before the light from the nearby streetlamps spilled back in. The lizards. Flying ones. Like the monkeys from The Wizard of Oz.
He thought about the lizards as he searched the remaining pews, but couldn’t come up with a reason for them being there. Why was he seeing them? He’d thought his days of seeing things were behind him.
Not there. Nothing’s there.
A ten-foot cross hung on the wall above the altar, and a long table with candles sat before it. Kate wasn’t here. Hatcher opened the door to the right of the altar. She’d taken the stairs.
Kate kept running from him—she and the new boyfriend. The soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. Kate was better than that. Whoever he was, this asshole didn’t deserve her. He hadn’t been there for her every day as she worked on set, pouring her heart into the role of Peyton Harris. He wasn’t there for her at the end of each long day. Wasn’t there for her when Michael betrayed her.
Unlike Michael, Hatcher had always been there for her. And he always would be there. Everything he’d done, he’d done for her. Kate just hadn’t seen it. If only she would slow down long enough so he could explain it to her. Once he talked to her, she’d understand, and everything would be okay.
Hatcher hurried up the long stairwell, taking two steps at a time. He had them now. There was nowhere else for them to go.
He loved Kate so much that he’d fantasized about her time and time again: holding her hand, kissing her, hearing the words I love you from her perfect mouth. With the good had come the bad, too. Love did things. It made him see visions of Kate and Michael in her bed. And then Kate had bolted, running from her house, from him. It had stressed him out so much he’d imagined ugly flying things soaring above Kate’s car. The doctors had said stress and stopping the antipsychoti
c drugs might make him hear things, might make him hallucinate. Though what the horrific lizards had to do with it remained a mystery. A trick, maybe? The pharmaceutical companies wanted him hooked on the stuff. Sure. That was it. He just needed to detox. The fact that he was seeing hellish lizards was the drug company’s fault.
He’d chased Kate here, so anxious that she was driving so fast that he envisioned her almost hitting a truck. But that must have been a figment of his imagination, too. The lizard things had taken the imaginary truck away.
Even knowing that he had hallucinated the lizards and the truck, they had shaken him. He wasn’t as calm as he’d hoped to be. Now Kate thought he was shooting at her. She didn’t know he was just trying to take out the parasite who had taken his spot. That guy wasn’t any good for her. She just needed to stop and listen to him. He could explain everything, just like he had to Heather.
Why wouldn’t she listen?
He’d thought Heather had lied to him about Kate finding someone else. The whole drive back to Kate’s house, he hadn’t wanted to believe it. But there they’d been, together. He was holding her. Hatcher had fired the first bullet in a fit of rage. It was this new guy’s fault.
Why was everyone trying to make him angry?
He hadn’t been able to stand the look he’d seen on his Kate’s face as she embraced the new guy. Apparently it wasn’t the first time that the thieving douchebag had held her, either. How many times had he touched her?
The thought made him angrier. He had to save her. He’d find her, hold her. Look her in the eyes. Once he fixed things, she’d see the truth. She’d thank him for everything he’d done.
He’d start with that asshole who was hiding her. At the top of the stairs, he opened the door. Most of the floor was a storage room. Crappy old beds with dented frames were everywhere. Maybe the church used this floor as a homeless shelter or whatever. Some of the beds were upright, stacked against one another, some set out as they might have been, but most were now void of mattresses. Several metal storage units housed books, cups, printing paper, boxes. But Hatcher noticed a few rooms off to each side.
They were up here somewhere. What were they doing? He thought of the new guy kissing Kate, thought of him sliding his hand under her shirt.
No. Not happening.
It IS happening. He’s touching her right now.
SHUT UP!
He shook his head, clearing out the voices. Panic welled inside him. Were the voices right? Was this guy feeling her up right now? Kissing her?
“KATE!”
He paused, giving her a chance to answer him. Maybe she didn’t know it was him. He’d yelled. He shouldn’t have yelled.
“Kate? Come out, please. I only want to talk to you. You’re making a mistake. I’m here to help you.”
More silence. He waited for a response.
“Kate? It’s Hatcher. From the set. The guy who brought you your coffee every morning? One cream, one sugar. I always remembered. The guy who defended you against that cheating scumball Michael that last day on the set?” She’d remember now. She’d come out and thank him for rescuing her. He was certain of it.
Bewildered by her continued silence, he said, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry. Am I forgiven? Michael put me up to it. It’s all his fault. He paid me to scare you. But you don’t scare, Kate. I know that. See? I know you better than he did. And you loved him. You’re stressed. You’ve been under a lot of pressure lately, and it’s taking a toll. I know. I’ve been where you are, Kate. I had a breakdown. The doctors gave me meds. Called me crazy for a while. But I’m better now, Kate. I’m all better. See? And now I can take care of you.”
Still nothing. The jerk with Kate was probably keeping her from talking to him. Maybe he was still kissing her—or worse. Kate wouldn’t ignore him. She’d talk to him, just like she had on the set now and then. Sometimes she just smiled as he handed her a script or a cup of coffee. That’s when he knew she was stressed. Before then, Kate would always thank him. No one else saw it, but he did. No one saw it because no one cared for her the way he did. She’d even asked how he was doing once.
Kate liked him. She wouldn’t have asked, wouldn’t have told him to take care of himself if he were invisible. Michael was a cheat and a liar, and Hatcher was happy that he’d killed him.
Kate was confused. But he could fix everything. He was here now. Soon Kate would be safe.
“Let her go, asshole!” Hatcher yelled. “Tell her the truth. Tell her how you stole her from me. Tell her you’re just using her.” The thought of Kate screwing this guy infuriated him, and Hatcher lashed out, kicking over a chair. “I hope you enjoyed yourself, you lowlife. Because it’s the last time you’ll ever touch her. She’s mine. You knew that! Did you think I’d just stand around and do nothing?”
How had this pathetic loser found out Kate needed someone to save her in the first place? Kate pretended she didn’t need saving. But this guy had seen what she couldn’t. “Very sneaky and underhanded of you, buddy. You’ve had your chance. Come out. Come out like a man. It’s all right, Kate. You didn’t know how much I love you. You didn’t know I’d come for you. You wouldn’t have slept with him otherwise.”
He scanned the area for any signs of movement, any place they could hide. There wasn’t much to hide behind, not in the storage area, but he had to be certain. He knocked over a stack of boxes filled with paper, hoping to scare them out. One by one, he flipped the flimsy mattresses off the beds. No one hid underneath.
The rooms. Yes, they were definitely in one. But he’d find them. And he’d shoot the guy pretending to be on Kate’s side. Then he’d rescue her. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”
It wouldn’t take long to find them now. No way out. Three rooms. All with old, wooden doors. He would close each one. If one opened while he was checking out the others, he’d hear. He’d learned that little trick from the best. He’d learned it from Kate. She’d done it on the set.
The first room to his left held boxes of Christmas decorations. No closets. No place to hide there. But just to make sure, he walked around, nudging a couple of containers anyway. Something ran down the hallway. That bizarre cat or dog or whatever it was. He blinked and wiped at his eyes.
Not there. Not there.
He left the room, closing the door behind him. One down. Two to go.
“Kate? Answer me, Kate! I’m worried about you.”
There was a noise in the next room. Hatcher smiled. He walked across the hallway to the other room, an office. A filing cabinet, a printer stand, and a desk.
Slowly he walked over to the desk and looked under it. Kate’s hazel eyes stared back.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Kate
Kate looked up into the face of insanity. Hatcher’s expression softened when he saw her. “Kate, there you are! Why didn’t you answer me?” He offered her a hand.
Kate didn’t take it. Instead, she crawled out from under the desk on her own, careful to conceal the pair of scissors tucked under her shirt at the small of her back. She had to be careful, had to play along with Hatcher just enough to get out of the room and find Praesus. The first option was to get the little gargoyle to call the others. Or get to a window and let the gargoyles see that she was in trouble. Or, if she had the opportunity, she’d take on Hatcher herself. No way was she going to let Ian lure this guy. Hatcher would shoot Ian the second he found him. Kate felt she had a better chance.
She instinctively knew she’d find Praesus by the row of windows that lined the wall outside this narrow room.
“Don’t be frightened. I wasn’t shooting at you, Kate. I’m here to help you. That guy you’re with—did he hurt you?” Hatcher asked softly.
“No,” Kate said, desperately trying to keep her voice even. “He’s my friend, Hatcher. He’d never hurt me.” She eyed the gun in Hatcher’s hand.
He brightened at the sound of his name, but it was short lived. “He’s not your friend, Kate,” he said, fr
owning. “He thinks he’s more than just your friend.” He stared at her, waiting. “Doesn’t he? But I’m here now, and you’ll love me instead.”
He reached for her, but Kate stepped away.
Just keep your head down for a minute or two, Ian, she thought. Please, Declan, be somewhere close-by.
“I need air,” Kate said. She should be able to act this out, pretend she might faint, but all she could think of was Ian waiting in the last room down the hall. Somehow he hadn’t yet heard them.
Outside, she could hear more gargoyles as they landed on the roof. She needed them to look inside. They couldn’t help her if they didn’t know what was going on. The room felt smaller than before.
“Why are you acting like this?” Hatcher asked. Kate backed up slowly, inching her way around the desk. Hatcher moved with her.
She kept her eyes on the gun. Could she do it? Would he shoot her if she stabbed him with the scissors, or would it surprise him just long enough that she could get the gun away from him?
“I’m here to save you. Stop looking at me like that!” Hatcher shouted. “I’ve always been there to save you, Kate. You can’t tell me you’ve never noticed! Michael said you didn’t know I was even alive. He said I wasn’t your type. He was wrong, Kate. All these pretty boys, they don’t have it where it counts. See, us plain guys have always had to work harder to get noticed. And that’s just wrong. But we’re good, Kate. I’m good. Not like Michael. Don’t you see? Not like this other guy. The others, they’ll always hurt you, Kate. But not me.” He paused. “What’s his name?”
Kate stared blankly back at him, unsure how to react, how to respond. “Hatch—”
“HIS NAME!” he screamed, making her flinch. “Give me the name of the guy you’ve been sleeping with. You’re mine now. I deserve to know. Give me his NAME!”
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