by Lora Leigh
"We've checked every room, Chase," Cameron said.
Chase hit the redial on the cell phone Courtney had handed him earlier and waited as Kia's cell phone rang. And rang.
"Is there any way to get a GPS on her phone?" he asked.
"Detective Allen is on his way. He'll be able to do that," Ian stated. "Hold on, Chase."
Hold on, my ass. He stared around the lobby, despair tearing through him, his guts cramping with it. He had promised to take care of her. Swore no one would hurt her, swore he would
watch her back.
"There you are!" Drew Stanton was striding across the lobby and he was furious. "What the hell are you doing letting Kia escort Harold Brockheim upstairs for? Son of a bitch, Chase!"
Chase dropped the phone in his pocket and grabbed the lapels of Drew's jacket. "Where the hell is she?"
"Let me go!"
"Answer me, Stanton." Chase shook him, enraged. "Where did you see her and Brockheim?
The bastard is going to kill her, and if he does, I'll kill you."
The color left Drew's face. "The elevator." His voice shook. "She got on the middle elevator with him and went up."
Chase turned toward the elevators.
"Chase!" Khalid was moving quickly across the lobby, his black hair flying back from his face.
"Did you reserve a room here?"
"Which room?"
"Twenty-seven forty-two," Khalid answered. "Your reservation is on the books. The security monitors have been blown, and security hasn't managed to fix them yet."
All three men raced into an elevator. Chase punched in the floor, sweat dampening his spine as the elevator began its ascent. The elevators here were fast, but they were still too damned slow.
"What the hell is going on with Brockheim?" Drew said beside him. "Hell, he's been on his deathbed since Moriah's death."
"Evidently he wants fucking company," Chase snarled.
Brockheim couldn't know they were on to him at this point, or that they knew the room he was in. It was only by chance that Khalid had checked room reservations. They had an advantage, a slight one, nothing more.
"Tell me what to do, Chase," Drew said. "Tell me what the hell is going on."
"Brockheim is insane," Chase snapped. "He's taken Kia because he blames me and Cameron for Moriah's death. He has Kia." He whispered the words.
God, he hadn't even told her he loved her yet. How the hell was he going to live if anything happened to her?
"Tell me what to do," Drew rasped.
Chase slammed him against the wall, the sides of his coat gripped in his hands again. "Fuck me over and I'll kill you," he raged in Drew's face. "Do you hear me? If she's hurt because you fucked up, I'll take your damned face off."
Drew glared back at him. "Save the fucking threats and tell me what the hell you need me to do."
Chase jerked his backup weapon from his ankle holster and slapped it into Drew's hand. "Stay ready. Nothing matters but keeping Kia alive. Do you understand me?"
Drew stared at the weapon, then back to Chase, and Chase saw understanding in Drew's eyes.
"I might not have treated her right, Chase, but I still care for her."
"She's mine!"
Drew's nod was jerky. "But she used to be mine, and I still care for her. I'll protect her."
Chase let it go at that. Kia had never belonged to Drew and the son of a bitch should have enough sense to know it. If he'd had a lick of sense when he was married to her he wouldn't be in the position he was in now.
And Chase could only thank God that Stanton had been a royal fuckup during his marriage.
Because Chase had ached for her like hell on fire for far too many years to keep doing without her.
He liked to think he would never interfere in a marriage, that he would have abided by the rules he signed on to with the club. But a part of him knew that, eventually, he would have had to leave or make that fatal move. Because even before her divorce, the need for her ate into him like a painful disease.
The elevator doors slid open. Weapon held close to his side, Chase went out first, followed by Khalid and Drew. Exchanging silent hand signals they edged along the wall, heading to the room Brockheim had taken.
Khalid held a hand up for them to stop as he plucked his phone from his pocket and flipped it open. His eyes narrowed as he listened. Turning back to Chase he mouthed Cameron and Ian coming up the stairs . He pointed to the stairwell.
Chase nodded. They weren't far from the door. Khalid had the coded key to it, but slipping in and gaining the advantage would be the trick.
Harold was old; he was insane. He had to mess up somewhere.
Chase had to get the advantage. Kia's life was hanging in the balance, and God knows, he didn't think he could live without her now.
"Get on your phone and call your lover," Harold spat out at her as she glared at him from the floor.
That one wasn't going to happen. She'd felt the phone vibrate and knew Chase was calling. She couldn't—wouldn't—allow him to die for her.
"Call him yourself."
Kia cried out in pain as Harold Brockheim reached down, grabbed her arm, and hauled her to her feet.
"Is this how you treated your daughter?" she cried out. "It's no wonder she lost her mind."
He threw her back, causing the corner of the dresser to dig into her hip and bringing a hard, anguished cry from her lips.
"Moriah was a good girl. I taught her to be a good girl."
But Kia saw the guilt in his face.
"Did you hit her, too?" Her face ached to the point that talking was painful, but she refused to lift her hand to it. "Is that what made her so ill, Harold?"
"Stop it." His hand was shaking wildly as he pointed the gun at her.
"Pull the trigger, you son of a bitch!" she screamed. "I won't help you get Chase up here. Do you understand me? I won't do it."
She gripped the corner of the dresser, aware of the tears that fell from her eyes and of the pain that raced through her. She might die here with no one but this crazy son of a bitch to watch life leave her, but at least Chase would be alive. And Chase would figure it out. He would find out who killed her.
But she didn't want to die. She sobbed. She didn't want to leave Chase. She wanted his arms around her, she wanted him warming her, she wanted to make him love her.
She cried out again as Brockheim ripped the little purse she carried from the tiny snap that held it to the narrow strap of her dress. A device to keep from losing it while she danced.
She glared at him.
"The number isn't on my cell," she informed him. "He never even calls me, Brockheim."
"Don't worry, I know the little bastard's number," he growled. "Moriah had it. She knew it by heart."
Kia watched as he dumped the contents of her purse on the bed and grabbed her cell phone. He smiled as he dialed the number.
"Moriah got her craziness from you," she cried out. "Stay away from Chase!"
She was shaking. Chase would come running, and she knew it. He would come for her and he would end up dead.
She ran for Brockheim, ignoring the gun, gripping his arm as he stared at her in shock, as though he hadn't expected it. She slapped the phone out of his hand as he struck her again.
"You stupid little bitch." Her head bounced off the wall, and she cried out sharply as she felt the stitches tear. She felt the blood that began to run from the cut as she shook her head and tried to find her bearings.
She was sliding down the wall. Her nails scraped against it, scrambling to find a hold as her legs were going out from under her.
"Look what you made me do, you little whore. How are you supposed to talk to him like this?"
Oh fuck, that was a foot in her side. That was definitely her scream and her pain radiating through her body. But she didn't know where that howl of rage came from.
They were standing outside the door when the first scream sounded. By the time Chase swiped the card, Kia's scream was burning through his head. He jerked the door open and rushed into the room, tackling Harold Brockheim and throwing him away from Kia.
He'd been kicking her. Kicking her and kicking her. A red haze washed over his mind as his fist slammed into the older man's face, knocking him across the room.
"Kia." Chase dropped to his knees beside her.
She was huddled against the wall, blood on her face, her shoulder; her complexion was paper white, her eyes dazed and unfocused.
"No." She coughed, a racking sound that tore through him.
"Get an ambulance!" he screamed as Cameron and Ian rushed through the door. "Get an ambulance. Ah God. Kia, baby."
He was terrified to touch her. He'd seen Brockheim's foot ramming into her side. God, how many times had he kicked her? How hard?
He turned and watched as Brockheim scrambled back from Khalid, the gun still in his hand.
Khalid stood before him.
"I'll kill you." Brockheim was crying, his nose and mouth bleeding.
"Make the first shot count." Khalid's voice sounded demonic. "Because my shot will take off your head. And if mine doesn't, theirs will." He jerked his head to draw Brockheim's attention away.
Chase, Cameron, Ian, and Drew watched him, guns drawn. And Chase wanted him dead. He wanted a piece of that bastard so fucking bad he couldn't breathe.
But Kia. Sweet God, he moved in front of her as she reached out for him. Her face was tear-stained, sobs erupting from her chest as he gripped her hands with one of his and made certain she was shielded.
Brockheim was staring at them now in rage and panic. The gun was shaking in his hand, and
Chase watched, cold, enraged, as Brockheim brought the gun to his own head and pulled the trigger.
At the explosion Kia flinched and cried out.
"Chase!" She reached for him, panic filling her. "No. Chase."
He caught her against his chest.
"Oh God, don't be shot," she sobbed. "Please, God, Chase, don't be shot."
He pulled her to him, wrapped his arms around her.
"I'm fine, baby." He lowered his head over hers, and for the first time in too long, he felt tears fill his eyes. "I'm fine, baby. I have you."
"Don't be shot," she cried hoarsely. "You can't be."
"No, baby. I swear." He wanted to rock her and was too scared to. He wanted to lift her into his arms, but was terrified of the pain he might cause her.
Her hands were on his back, stroking down it. His chest. She was touching him, though he could tell it was hurting her to do so.
He could still hear the assault on Kia through that damned door, Brockheim demanding she call, and her attack. He could still feel the terror streaking through him. It was still feeding through him, growing and intensifying as she continued to sob against his chest.
Kia didn't cry easily. And she didn't cry like this.
"Ambulance is on its way." Cameron hunkered down beside them, his expression somber. "So is Detective Allen."
"She's hurt." Chase lifted his head to look intently at his brother. "God, Cameron. She let him hurt her, to save me."
Just as Cameron had let their aunt hurt him to save Chase. He saw it in his brother's eyes. Knew it in his heart.
"You killed for me," Cameron whispered. "For me and Jaci. Because you loved us. She was watching your back, Chase, the same as you would have for her."
Chase shook his head and looked down at her, so fragile in his arms, blood seeping from the wound on her head, her gown torn, sobs still pouring from her as she held on to him.
"I love you, Kia." He pressed his head against hers, held her and prayed, prayed with everything inside him that he had gotten to her in time. "I love you. Ah God, baby, I love you."
Chapter 26
Dr. Sanjer didn't let her out of the hospital that night, or even the next. Not that Kia was capable of asking to leave that first night.
Contact with the wall had somehow done more damage to Kia than Harold Brockheim had done when he attacked her outside her apartment building.
The concussion was severe enough that she had to be under constant supervision and checked hourly. Thinking was something she didn't do well, and the pain in her head and in her ribs was excruciating.
She was aware of Chase arguing with the doctor, the nurses, though she wasn't certain why he was arguing at first. She knew Detective Allen was there for a few minutes before Chase ran him out.
She knew Chase hadn't left her side. He sat that night with her hand in his, barely dozing.
When she awoke the next morning she gave him the details he needed to make certain the detective had the statement. As she spoke fury darkened his eyes.
"Why didn't you call me?" His face was in hers, his lips drawn back from his teeth as pain and anger marked his face. "Did you think I wasn't capable of protecting you?"
He would have given his life for her, and she knew it. A part of her had always known it. She loved him with an intensity that could only come about if that love was returned.
Kia had known that. As she had felt the pain moving through her at the knowledge Brockheim just might kill her there, she knew Chase loved her. And that he would easily have tried to trade his life for hers.
"If I had done as you warned me, and not left your side, it wouldn't have happened," she whispered. "It was my fault, Chase. I couldn't let him hurt you because I was stupid. Besides, would you have suspected Harold of doing something so insane? I always thought Moriah got her insanity from her mother. Margaret was always a little different. Harold was always so steady, so patient."
He snarled, then
groaned. His head dropped to the pillow by her shoulder, and she felt the tension radiating through him.
"I'm spanking you for this," he growled, "when you're better."
"Ah, my reward." She grinned, though it still hurt a bit. "I was wondering when you would get around to that."
His chuckle was rough as he lifted his head. His fingers whispered above the bruise on her face.
"I love you." He stared into her eyes, and she saw the truth of it. She saw all the bitter fury, the ragged pain he had felt when he burst into that room and saw her on the floor. She knew, because she knew how she would have felt. And she couldn't have borne knowing he had been
hurt so severely.
"I love you," she whispered back. "But we really need to begin discussing events concerning Moriah Brockheim. You should have told me, Chase. Perhaps I would have understood more."
He shook his head. "Steel fucking spine," he whispered.
A frown snapped between her brow. That was what her father was always muttering to her mother. It couldn't be a good thing.
"Is that a compliment or an insult?" she demanded, despite the lethargy stealing over her again.
"Hell, I think it's both." He leaned forward and kissed her lips gently. "Go to sleep, baby. You're going to need your strength when you get out of here."
"Don't leave me," she sighed. She was slipping away, the drugs they were giving her for the pain taking hold of her senses.
Her hand tightened on his. Chase laced his fingers with hers and brought them to his lips.
"I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart. Not even for a second."
He had been there for two days. He had showered in the bathroom attached to her private room, but other than that, he hadn't left the room. He wasn't leaving. If he had to take his eyes off her longer than what he absolutely had to, he might go insane.
"I love you," she whispered again as she slipped into sleep.
"I love you, Kia. Rest, baby."
He held her hand as she relaxed into sleep, unaware he was being watched until his head lifted and he saw Drew Stanton standing in the doorway.
Drew's expression was somber, his brown eyes a bit bitter, but accepting. In one hand he carried a vase of flowers. He moved into the room and set the flowers on the table by her bed and stared down at her.