Hideaway

by Sandy James

  “Chantal…”

  “I said stay here.”

  Kayla led Chantal to her bedroom. What she sought was in her bureau, so she jerked the door open, tossed aside some clothing, and pulled out a small wooden box. Her hands were trembling so much, she could barely open the lid. She tried to pick up the precious piece of jewelry, but her fingers wouldn’t cooperate. Finally, she plucked it from its home. “Here.” She held out her hand to reveal the silver cufflink she’d protected since the night her father had died. When she’d knelt at his side, Papa had been clutching it in his hand, and he gave it to her right before his last breath.

  After staring at it for a few long moments, Chantal looked as though someone had struck her. Hard. “Dear God…”

  Otto came stomping into the room, making Kayla close her fist around the precious cufflink. “Get out of my room! Now!”

  For a big man, he was swift, crossing the room in a mere moment as he snatched for the cufflink. “Gimme that!”

  Kayla turned aside, protecting the jewelry against her chest. “I will not! You killed my father, and this will prove it!”

  When Otto reached for Kayla again, Chantal pushed his arm away. “Leave her alone!”

  A storm brewed in his eyes, and his brows gathered in anger. “Chantal…”

  Chantal turned her back to Otto and held her hand out to Kayla. “Carolyn, please. Hand it to me.”

  “No,” Kayla replied. “You’ll just give it to him.”

  “Please hand it to me. I will protect it…and you. I swear to you on my son’s life.”

  The pleading and sincerity in her voice cut through Kayla’s resistance. Reluctantly, she held the cufflink out to Chantal.

  Chantal held it between her finger and thumb, bringing it close to her face as her mouth bowed in a deep frown. “Otto, this is yours.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said with the flip of his wrist. “It’s just a silver cufflink.”

  “It’s yours,” Chantal insisted.

  “It’s not mine,” he said, his voice growing gruff.

  Chantal kept staring at the cufflink she held. “You forget, Otto, that I gave you this cufflink—and its twin—two years ago. It was a gift for you to wear when we went to the governor’s ball.”

  He shook his head. “I still have those. They’re both back in New York.”

  “Then why haven’t you worn them since Jamison Burton died?”

  “You’re mistaken. I’ve worn them. I’ve worn them several times,” he insisted.

  Chantal shook her head and her gaze shifted to Kayla. “I got him these…this cufflink, you see. They were specially made. See the cat’s eye stone in the center? I chose two of them the exact color…” She swallowed hard. “They are the exact color of Otto’s eyes.” She turned it to look at the back. “I commissioned them from Black, Starr, and Frost on Fifth Avenue. Here is their mark.”

  “Stop this foolishness, Chantal.” Otto tried to take the cufflink, but in a move that mimicked Kayla’s earlier actions, Chantal balled her hand around the piece of jewelry and pulled it to her chest.

  “He killed my father,” Kayla said again. “Was it on your command?”

  “No!” Chantal shouted. “I would never… I didn’t ask him to do anything to Jamison except put some fear into him. To threaten him. If I wanted to hurt your father, I would’ve simply seen to it that my bank put a financial squeeze on him. I wouldn’t… I couldn’t…” She shook her head, and her eyes shimmered with tears. “I would never commit such a sin as condoning murder. I swear on Gregory’s life that I didn’t tell Otto to kill your father.”

  Kayla believed her. Chantal had done exactly what she said. She’d threatened. Which meant it was Otto who had made the choice to kill Kayla’s father.

  Chantal turned on him, her face filled with anger and disgust. “What did you do?”

  A calm seemed to settle on Otto, which made him appear even more dangerous. “I did what needed to be done. The family needed to be protected from her. She’s nothing but a poor harlot who wanted our money.”

  “Dear God...” Chantal shook her head.

  “You’re a murderer,” Kayla said to him. “And I will be sure everyone knows about what you did.”

  Chantal was still shaking her head, appearing hurt and confused. “You’re…a monster.” She stared at the cufflink she still held. “And to think…I was going to marry you.”

  With a weary sigh, Otto reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun. He pointed it at Kayla. “Look what you’ve done, you stupid bitch.”

  Knowing there was no escape, Kayla faced him bravely, swiping away angry tears with the back of her hand. The child she’d only just learned about would never draw his first breath. “May you rot in hell.”

  Chantal surprised Kayla when she suddenly rushed in front of her, blocking Otto from shooting. “I will not let you harm anyone else. You’re going to prison, Otto. For a long, long time.”

  He let out a chuckle that sent shivers racing the length of Kayla’s spine.

  “You’re laughing?” Chantal held up the closed fist that still held the cufflink. “I assure you, sir, you won’t be for long.”

  “Such a shame,” he said. “If you hadn’t listened to this little bitch, we could’ve taken Gregory home. But now?”

  Chantal narrowed her eyes. “Now, what?”

  “Now, I have to kill you both.”

  * * *

  Drake could’ve sworn he heard Kayla calling him. The sensation was so vivid that he dragged Rusty to a stop. The horse flicked its tail in agitation, probably at how hard Drake had pulled on the bit. Drew and Gideon kept galloping up the road, not even glancing back as they hurried to help the Becks with the fire in their barn.

  Gregory, who’d been trailing a bit behind, slowed his horse and then stopped at Drake’s side. “How much farther to the farm?”

  Instead of answering, Drake strained to listen. Was that Kayla calling again? He shifted in his saddle to check behind them, almost expecting to find her riding hard to catch them.

  Turning to glance the same direction, Gregory frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  “Did you hear Kayla?”

  “Kayla?” Gregory turned to stare. “Do you think she followed us?”

  “I don’t know. I just… I coulda sworn I heard her shouting at me.” Drake was tense, his muscles tightening as his stomach knotted. Why couldn’t he figure out what was wrong? She wasn’t there. She wasn’t calling out to him. So why was it impossible to make himself get Rusty back in motion and catch up with Drew and Gideon?

  “She’s not there,” Gregory said, shifting in his saddle. “I have excellent vision, especially at a distance. There is no one following us.”

  All Drake did was frown. Everything inside him was screaming for him to hurry back home—back to Kayla. But the Beck family was losing their barn. Every passing minute could see the fire spread to their home.

  His heart implored him to turn back, and the message was simply too strong to ignore.

  Jerking the reins, he turned Rusty. “I’m going back.”

  “Why?”

  Instead of replying, Drake gave Rusty a kick, sending the gelding leaping into motion. A few moments later, he heard the sound of hoofbeats behind him. A quick glance over his shoulder found Gregory on his tail.

  When he pulled close enough to be heard, Gregory shouted, “I don’t understand why you’re going back.”

  “Kayla needs me,” Drake shouted back.

  With a curt nod, Gregory kept his horse in pace with Rusty.

  They rode in silence back to the farm.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Kayla couldn’t believe that Chantal had positioned herself as a shield. The woman now stood between Kayla and Otto, and every time Otto shifted to his left or right, Chantal would adjust.

  “Chantal,” Otto said in a scolding tone, “don’t make me do this.”

  “Do what, Otto?” Chantal asked. “Murder another person? I ca
nnot believe you killed Jamison!”

  “I had to,” he insisted. “It was the only way to protect the family.” His gaze shifted to Kayla, and the hatred blazed in his eyes. “She was supposed to die, too. Then their greed wouldn’t taint my— Your fortune.”

  Kayla was trembling in fear—as much for her unborn child as herself—but she took strength from Chantal’s stalwart stance. Chantal faced Otto with apparently no fear, folding her arms in front of her and drumming her fingers on her arm. “Exactly how were you protecting your fortune, Otto?”

  “We are engaged, my love. What’s yours is mine. Had I allowed Gregory to make such a foolish choice for wife, I have no doubt this whore would’ve bled him dry. Then she’d start draining away our money.”

  With a shake of her head, Chantal said, “There is no ‘our.’ Not any longer.” She handed the cufflink to Kayla and then jerked a ring from the third finger on her left hand before hurling it at him. It bounced off his chest and hit the floor. “I will not be wife to a…a…common criminal.”

  “Of course, there’s an ‘our,’” Otto countered. “You forget, we have already signed all the betrothal contracts, and those have that delightful contingency that should something happen to either of us before we exchange vows, we inherit the other’s money.” He let out a grating chuckle. “It would seem that when our Cara kills you—and I will be sure everyone believes that is exactly what happened—I shall become a very wealthy man.” He cocked the gun. “I suppose you might want to know that you were never returning from this trip,” he said, an arrogant lilt to his voice. “I had always planned for you to have a convenient accident, but this? This is even better! I can rid myself of both of you bitches at the same time. Goodbye, Chantal.” He raised the gun.

  “You’re wrong about the money, Otto,” Chantal said with an edge of steel in her voice. “Dead wrong.”

  “Wrong?” Another irritating laugh as he let the gun drop a little. The man was clearly enjoying toying with them and had no intention of ending it quickly, as though the need to brag about his plan couldn’t be stopped. “No, I’m not. You’re just stalling. Remember that I was the one who insisted on that clause. I knew exactly what I was doing. I’ve waited a long time for the Carrington fortune to be mine.”

  This time, Chantal laughed. “You’re a fool. An utter fool.”

  Kayla had been praying for deliverance, and she was beginning to believe the woman she’d hated and blamed for her father’s death might be that deliverance. She’d never seen someone so brave in the face of danger. Had she not fisted one of her hands in the back of Chantal’s coat, she would never have realized that Chantal was trembling.

  “I am done talking to you.” He aimed the gun again.

  “I’m not speaking of the clause, you ignoramus,” Chantal said in a snide tone. “You’re wrong that the papers have been signed. I was in such a hurry to find Gregory that I never found the time to sign them. If anything happens to me, you inherit nothing. Not a damn penny.”

  “You’re lying!” he said with a scoff.

  “I suppose,” Chantal drawled, “that you’ll just have to find out the hard way. A pity to lose all that money simply because you forgot to check if I’d followed through.”

  Taking courage from Chantal, Kayla moved to the woman’s side and held out her hand. Chantal took it in hers, and the women faced Otto as a united front.

  “So, here we are, Otto,” Kayla said. “Two women who know exactly what you did. But if you kill us, you’ll walk away a pauper.”

  His face flushed red, and sweat was beginning to bead his forehead. “You’re lying, Chantal. I know you. I’ve seen you bluff men in business deals for years, and you’re bluffing now. If I kill you and this interfering little bitch, I will inherit the Carrington fortune.”

  “What about Gregory?” Kayla asked. “Surely you know that he’d inherit, not you.”

  “Half,” Otto said. “Only half.” Then he chuckled. “I suppose he shall have to meet with an accident as well.”

  Movement in the hallway caught Kayla’s eye, and she tried not to react to alert Otto that someone else was in the house.

  * * *

  The moment he saw the carriage, Drake thanked God that he strapped on his gun every day. While that habit went back to his cattle drive days, it wasn’t one he’d tried to break. Today, that custom might just save Kayla’s life.

  He’d ridden hard until he got to the barn door, then he jumped out of the saddle, slapped Rusty on the rump to get this horse heading into the barn, and grabbed the reins of Gregory’s horse. “Get off.”

  Gregory obeyed, and Drake sent his horse into the barn as well.

  “Who’s here?” Gregory asked.

  “Not sure,” Drake replied. “But Kayla was alone, and I want to be sure she’s safe.”

  Gregory took a few steps toward the porch. “By all means then we’ll go see—”

  Snaking a hand around Gregory’s upper arm, Drake dragged him to a stop. “We’re not charging in there. Not until we get the lay of the land.”

  “Pardon?”

  “The lay of the land. We need to know what’s going on in there first.”

  “We can figure that out quite nicely by going inside,” Gregory said, his tone condescending.

  Drake swiped his hand over his face, trying to keep his patience. This man had no idea of the kinds of dangers in this part of the country. While the carriage boded well, meaning someone had wanted to travel in comfort, he couldn’t help but feel as though something here was very wrong. “What if there’s someone in there threatening her?”

  “Why on earth would anyone threaten Cara?” Then Gregory’s eyes widened. “You think Otto has come here, don’t you?”

  “I do,” Drake replied. “Judging from the carriage, I’d say your mother is with him.”

  “Well, then, shouldn’t we go greet them? My mother is no threat to Cara.”

  Drake let out a derisive snort. “My guess is she’s the biggest danger Kayla faces. You might not believe her about your ma, but I do.”

  It was easy to see that Gregory was still convinced his mother was innocent, but he finally nodded. “What do you want to do?”

  Drawing his gun, Drake scrambled for a plan that would be safest for Kayla. “We need to go around the house and peek in the windows. Find out what room they’re in. Then we’ll regroup here and figure out what to do next.” He gestured with his gun to the right. “You go that way. Stay low. Don’t be seen.”

  Gregory nodded, went to the right side of the porch, and crouched to look into the closest window.

  Assured that Gregory was going to be careful, Drake headed to the other side of the house. Three windows later—the window into Kayla’s bedroom—and he saw them. His heart took a leap when he saw the gun that Otto was pointing at the women. They stood side-by-side, facing him with expressions of sheer challenge on their faces.

  Something had obviously changed in Kayla’s view of Chantal Carrington, which made Drake focus on Otto.

  He was a big man, tall and heavy. But he’d chosen a poor weapon. A .22. A woman’s gun. But it would kill, and Drake needed to disarm Otto as quickly as possible. He’d just decided to take his best shot through the window, hoping the distortions in the glass wouldn’t hurt his aim, when Gregory came bursting into the bedroom. He held a large vase above his head, and he rushed at Otto.

  Everything happened so quickly, Drake couldn’t think, only react. Otto whirled and fired his gun at Gregory, and Drake took quick aim and pulled the trigger, shattering the glass. Ears ringing, he used the back of his heavy sleeve to brush aside the shards in the window. Then he looked into the room, saw Otto on the floor, and hurried to crawl inside.

  Kayla was there, grabbing his arms to help him. When she tried to embrace him, he pushed her behind his back in case Otto wasn’t incapacitated.

  He’d hit Otto right between the shoulder blades, leaving the man sprawled on his stomach. The gun had slid across the floor and
was laying near the door. Relieved Otto was no longer a threat, Drake shifted his gaze to Gregory, who was on his knees, his right hand pressed against his upper left arm. “Did he shoot you?”

  Gregory nodded, then he pulled his shaking hand away, revealing a torn jacket but no blood. “I–I think he m–missed.”

  “Gregory!” Chantal, who had appeared to be a trance, rushed to her son and fell to her knees. “You’re injured!”

  His hand still shaking, he put it on his mother’s shoulders. “I am f–fine, M–mother.”

  “My darling boy!” She pulled his head to her chest, nearly making them both topple over. “You were so brave!”

  “I was supposed to wait,” he said, his voice still a bit shaky, “but I saw you were in danger, Mother. I had to do something.”

  With a snort and a shake of his head, Drake turned to gather Kayla into his arms, wondering if he’d ever be able to let her go. She laid her cheek against his shoulder and took a few deep breaths. Slowly, her trembling began to subside. He doubted, however, that his would abate for a good, long while.

  He rubbed her back. “Are you okay, love?”

  “I am now.” She let out a sweet sigh. “How did you know to come back?”

  How could he tell her that his intuition had been screaming at him until he’d turned Rusty around and rode for home as though Satan himself was on his tail? All he did was shrug.

  Pushing her arms around his neck, she rose on tiptoes to brush a kiss over his lips. “Thank you.”

  He grunted a response, feeling a bit flustered at her gratitude. He’d only done what was necessary to protect her, and he didn’t think it deserved praise.

  “You saved my life.”

  “A man protects his woman,” Drake replied.

  Kayla pulled back and stared up into his eyes. “Is that what I am, Drake? Your woman?”

  He grabbed her around the waist, jerked her against him hard enough that she gasped, and covered her mouth with his. Then he kissed her with all the love he had for her deep inside himself. The kiss was consuming, and all he wanted to do was toss her on the bed and show her exactly how much he wanted her—needed her.