Her new landlord took the check and dropped a key into her hand. “Thank you, roomie.”
“Thank you.” She closed her fingers around the small silver key. A little burst of pride filtered through the dull ache around her heart. This was the right thing to do. She’d surprise Hunter with the good news tonight, after the wedding. A spark of hope trailed after the pride. Maybe this was the first step toward a new beginning for them—a normal relationship instead of some haphazard collision of emotions driven by her precarious situation and his hero complex?
“When do you think you’ll move in?” Rachel asked as they walked to the door.
No point dragging her feet. “Would tomorrow afternoon be too soon?”
“Tomorrow afternoon works for me.” Rachel gave her a hug. “Have fun at the wedding. Catch the bouquet.”
Chapter Twenty
Hunter stared at his phone. The last text from Madison filled his screen.
Leaving now. Running a little late—sorry. I have a surprise for you.
Yeah, well, he had a surprise for her, too, assuming she ever arrived. She’d sent the message almost three hours ago. Even factoring in a stop or two for Joy, she ought to be coming through the door any moment. The reception had officially kicked off. John Legend’s “All of Me” spilled from the speakers while Beau and Savannah whispered and laughed their way through their first dance as husband and wife. As he watched, both sets of parents joined the happy couple under twinkling lights.
They’d picked a romantic venue. The big, old, stone and board building had once been part of a plantation. Now round, linen-draped tables and white folding chairs took up half the room, while the DJ, dance floor, and bar took up the other half. The flowers and finery looked nice against the rough-hewn backdrop. Low lighting and lots of little candles added sparkle.
Beside him, he heard the hiss of a quickly indrawn breath, followed by, “Son of a bitch…”
The outburst came from Savannah’s younger sister Sinclair, the maid of honor. He looked at her, somewhat relieved to see her narrowed gaze fixed on the other side of the room.
“Problem?”
The DJ invited everyone to the dance. Sinclair grabbed his hand. “No problem. Dance with me.” She was on her feet—and hauling him to his—before he had a chance to reply.
She had long legs and could cover a lot of ground when she chose. Apparently she chose to now, because she practically dragged him to the crowded center of the dance floor, hung her arms on his shoulders and pressed her slender body against his. Tight.
The whole thing caught him off guard. Sinclair was undeniably beautiful, and smart, and as maid of honor to his best man, they’d been paired up most of the day. But he’d sensed zero sparks of interest from her, and he wasn’t sending off any, either, so he didn’t know where her sudden desire to spend time in his arms came from.
Despite the way she’d plastered herself against him, her eyes never met his. They burned a hole through someone over his shoulder. Awareness dawned.
He put his hands on her waist and turned them.
Now her laser blue eyes zoomed to his. “Hey, Footloose, what are you doing?”
“Trying to size up the guy you’re aiming to make jealous.”
Her dark brows arched. “I’m not aiming to make anyone jealous. I wouldn’t waste my time on such a stupid game.”
“You don’t play games?”
“Oh, I can play games.” She turned her head and scanned the crowd. “I can play with the best of them. I’m simply not playing one now. I’m not interested in speaking with someone—someone who’s not supposed to be here in the first place—much less dancing with him. I figure the best way to avoid doing both is to speak and dance with people I am interested in.” She turned back to him and smiled. “Like you.”
“I’m honored to have made the cut, and under other circumstances I’d be happy to risk an ass-kicking to dance with a beautiful woman, but I’m expecting another beautiful woman to come through the door any second, and…well…I don’t play games with her.”
Sinclair’s eyes softened, and her smile turned genuine. “Savannah mentioned something about you falling hard recently.”
“Beau’s got a big mouth.”
“I doubt that, but Savannah’s got a sixth sense about—”
She stiffened in his arms a moment before a hand landed on his shoulder. A low voice followed. “Can I cut in?”
He turned to face a dark-haired guy wearing a civilized smile and a thousand-dollar suit, neither of which quite polished the hungry edge off him. Right now that hunger appeared to be reserved solely and exclusively for Sinclair.
“That’s up to the lady,” Hunter said.
The man’s sharp green eyes never wavered from her, and Hunter saw cool determination in the stare. He held out a hand toward Sinclair, cocked one brow, and waited. Even though he didn’t touch her, the gesture conveyed a level of possessiveness.
“No, thanks,” she replied in a voice that could freeze hell.
Hunter shifted so his shoulder blocked the space between Sinclair and her admirer, and he was about to suggest Hugo Boss try his luck at the bar, but the man simply laughed. “What’s the matter, Sinclair? Don’t trust yourself in my arms?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
The smile turned challenging and delivered his message loud and clear. Prove it. Sinclair held out for a full three seconds. “Fine. One dance. Then you leave.”
The man took her hand and closed his arm around her waist in a purely territorial move. “Sinclair, I can make a dance last all night.”
And that would be Hunter’s cue to leave. He walked to the edge of the dance floor and spent a minute watching Sinclair and her new dance partner to make sure she didn’t have any second thoughts. By the looks of things, she didn’t. Not surprising. She’d walked into this particular game—a classic he liked to call sexual chicken—with her eyes wide open. The guy played by some rules, though. He kept his hands a millimeter away from the wrong side of decent. He kept his mouth close to her ear, whispering something that put flags of color high on her cheeks. Those two threw off enough sparks to set fire to the dance floor.
He missed Madison. He’d just decided to step outside and give her a call when his phone vibrated. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen.
We’re here! Joy wants to freshen up & we’ll be in.
Hell, he’d be out. Fresh or not, he wanted to see them. Now. He headed to the front entrance and pushed through the wooden doors. The weight of his footfalls coaxed squeaks and groans from the weather-worn boards of the porch before he paused at the steps and looked around.
A pond bordered one side of the open, grassy area used for parking, and reflected purple and blue shades painting the evening sky. A strip of hard-packed dirt and gravel formed a path straight to the building. Light-strewn oaks along the perimeter, and a few well-placed floods on the building itself, threw out enough glow to keep people from ending up in the pond. The wash of headlights from another latecomer cut through the twilight, momentarily blinding him, but then the dark sedan turned hard and jerked to a stop at the far end of the parking area, right beside the maroon Outback he’d been scanning for.
Madison stepped around the back of her car, and even from this distance, she stole his breath. She always looked beautiful, whether she had on an old T-shirt and piled her hair into a sloppy knot, or wore a smooth ponytail and her work clothes, or just her dark, tumbling waves and nothing else, but it suddenly occurred to him he’d never seen her all dressed up. Never told her to put on a pretty outfit and taken her out for a nice dinner, or dancing in Buckhead, or…something. Circumstances being what they were, they’d kind of skipped the dinner and dancing phase and moved directly to the laundry, dishes, and sneaking-sex-in-between-late-night-feedings stage. He needed to correct that, because she deserved to be romanced. She deserved everything. The ring box burned a hole in his pocket.
She arranged Joy in the sling and
then glanced toward the building. He knew the second she spotted him. Her step faltered. She held her phone in one hand, and the other came up to check her hair, which she’d pulled into a smooth twist he itched to wreck. Later. A smile stretched his lips at her small, self-conscious gesture. Yep, still Madison under the upswept hair and fancy dress. An answering smile stole across her mouth, and she waved.
He took a step forward, intending to go to her, when a shadow moved between the cars, and then a man grabbed her from behind. Hunter saw her wrap protective arms around Joy, leaving her with no way to break her fall as she stumbled backward. She landed on her back, hard enough to bounce her head against the ground, and then was dragged as the guy tried to tug Joy out of the sling. She held on.
The scene played out in front of him like something from a nightmare. Lights, sounds…all of it faded. His focus narrowed to the struggle happening just a few yards away. He knew he was moving, running balls out with enough power to make his heart pound and his blood pump, but every second stretched into an eternity. He couldn’t get to her fast enough.
An instant later time snapped like a rubber band, and suddenly he was there, almost on top of them. Sound crashed into his ears—Joy’s furious screams, the guy’s ragged curses—Bitch…fucking bitch…let her go. They’re going to kill me—and Madison’s breath coming in fast, harsh pants that told him she put every ounce of her energy fighting him off.
His brain processed a kaleidoscope of details as he launched himself at the other man—Cody Fucking Winslow. Five-ten. One hundred and seventy pounds. Beat to shit. For a split second he attributed the damage to Madison, but by the time he slammed into the guy and sent them both to the ground with a bone-jarring thud, he realized it had taken someone bigger, heavier, and packing a hell of a lot more power than Madison to break this asshole’s nose, bruise his face, and knock out an incisor and a canine.
He inhaled dirt along with the sour stench of whiskey and cat piss—meth sweat, a voice in his head diagnosed. The mixture left a gritty, coppery taste in the back of his throat. He choked it down and sprang to his feet. Despite the beating someone else had already inflicted, the other man scrambled up as well. Hunter couldn’t see a weapon, but that didn’t mean the guy didn’t have one. What he could see, from the corner of his eye, was Madison rushing toward him, and the thought of this shithead pulling a gun and taking aim at her made his blood run cold. He waved her away, but Winslow saw her, too, and charged.
“Go,” he shouted and stepped in front of her, then repeated the order louder when she didn’t move. He leaned into the body blow, absorbing the force and holding his ground. Winslow hit the dirt again but immediately scrabbled up. Jesus, he was like some fucking animal—all cranked up with relentless energy and no concept of pain.
“Madison, go!” Hunter puffed the words out before starting toward Winslow, and he had the satisfaction of hearing her footsteps retreat behind him. He caught the guy off balance this time, knocked him down, and went for the battered nose. The slam of a car door blended with the crunch of cartilage.
Blood streamed over his knuckles, but Winslow barely grunted. The slippery bastard twisted and kicked, trying to get his feet under him. Hunter wrapped his hand around the guy’s throat and hauled him up. His limbs felt like lead. Every breath exploded from his lungs and echoed in his head. Over this, he heard an engine gun and then scrape of tires spinning on gravel. A measure of relief filtered through him, knowing Madison and Joy were out of range. Voices came from behind him now, along with the sound of footfalls beating a rapid path his way. In his mind he saw a well-dressed cavalry closing in. He wasn’t going to need them.
He staggered forward, dragging Winslow by his skinny neck. The guy clawed at his wrist, but Hunter kept walking. Apparently Winslow wasn’t so far beyond reality he didn’t realize Madison had left with the baby, because his wild eyes locked on Hunter. “They’re going to kill me,” he whimpered.
“I’m going to kill you,” Hunter replied, and threw him in the pond.
…
Madison pulled into Hunter’s driveway and stomped on the brake hard enough to make her tires squeak. Her hands still trembled, even after the two-hour sprint back to Atlanta. Cody’s voice echoed in her ear. I have a gun. Don’t make me use it.
Did he really have one? Apparently he hadn’t used it, thank God. With her and the baby gone, there would have been no point.
Joy had slept in her car seat for most of the trip. Madison had managed that much. She’d hit the pause button on the overpowering instinct to flee, as fast and as far as possible, and had stopped at a gas station near the freeway onramp in Magnolia Grove to make sure the baby was okay, and then call the police. They’d told her they already had units on the scene, and no injuries reported, but that was all the information they could provide. She’d tried to reach Hunter’s phone, but it had gone straight to voicemail. Out of options, and unsure if Cody was in custody or still at large, she’d raced back to Atlanta.
Miraculously, the tug-of-war with Cody hadn’t left a mark on Joy. But with that fear put to rest, plenty of other concerns circled her mind like hungry birds, swooping down to stab at her ragged nerves every few seconds. Was Hunter okay? Was everybody else okay? Where was Cody? Should she call the police again?
The answers to all these questions were a phone call away, but she’d lost her cell somewhere in the battle to hold on to Joy. She’d probably dropped it in the parking lot, but wherever it was, it couldn’t do her any good now.
You’re as misplaced and useless as that phone.
God, she was. She closed her eyes, covered her face with her hands, and tried to figure out what to do next. Think, Madison.
A knock on her driver’s side window brought her bolting upright again, a scream in her throat, but the terror rushed away just as quickly when she saw Nelle standing there. She opened the door and started to get out, only to sag back in the seat. Her weak knees refused to support her. “Hunter?” she managed.
“I talked to him about an hour ago. He’s fine. He asked me to assure you everything’s under control, including your ex. Honey, let’s get you and that sweet little girl inside, and I’ll tell you what I know.”
Strangely, the wave of profound and utter relief Nelle’s words generated broke the dam on her anxiety. Tears burned her eyes. A stinging, blinding outpouring, accompanied by a sob so deep it made her chest hurt. She clung to the steering wheel, helpless and mortified, while Nelle—poor woman—rubbed her shoulder and whispered, “It’s okay. You’ve been through the wringer tonight, but now it’s done. Everything’s going to be okay.”
“I took Joy and ran. He said he had a gun. I didn’t know… I didn’t know if Hunter was—”
“Hunter can take care of himself.” She squeezed Madison’s shoulder. “You did what you had to do to protect your daughter.”
The sympathy wrenched deeper sobs out of her ragged throat. She’d almost lost her daughter tonight because she’d been so focused on stupid things, like making Hunter see her in a new light, and making an impression on his friends, she’d dropped her guard. Because of her, Hunter could have been hurt…or worse. The same went for other wedding guests she’d seen in her rearview mirror, running toward him as she’d burned rubber out of the parking lot.
Making him see her in a new light? What a joke. Why would he see her as anything except a pathetic mess in need of rescue? As for making an impression on his friends, she’d inadvertently brought her deranged criminal of a baby daddy to their wedding, and endangered every one of them. She’d made an impression, all right.
A little wail sounded from the back seat. Right. This pity party was an indulgence she couldn’t afford. She needed to pull her shit together and take care of her daughter. The thought straightened her spine. She sat up and wiped her face. “Mama’s coming, baby.”
Nelle stepped aside and carried the diaper bag, while Madison got Joy out of her car seat and led the way to the door. Once inside, Madison keyed the c
ode into the alarm and then flipped on lights. “I need to feed her.”
“You go ahead. I’m going to make us some tea. Be right back.”
Unpacking one of the bottles she’d prepared for the trip would have been easier, but she wanted—no, she needed—to nurse her daughter, so she worked the zipper at the back of the dress down until she could shrug out of one sleeve. By the time Nelle returned a few minutes later, carrying two mugs of tea, Joy was quietly nursing, and Madison was quietly figuring out how to get the train wreck of her life back on track without inflicting any more damage on Hunter.
Nelle sat next to her on the sofa and put the second mug on the coffee table in front of her. “I sent Hunter a text to tell him you and Joy are home, safe and sound.”
Safe? Yes. Sound? Debatable. But she simply nodded and offered Nelle a weak smile. “Thanks. Where is he?”
“He’s still in Magnolia Grove, talking with the police, giving a statement, or pressing charges, or whatever it is they need to lock that crazy fool up and throw away the key. When I spoke to him, I got the impression he’d be there a while.”
Madison cleared her raw throat. “Cody’s in jail?”
“I think he’s at the hospital, just now, but he’s in custody. They charged him with assault, battery, attempted kidnapping, driving under the influence, grand theft auto—the car was stolen—possession and consumption of illegal substances, breaking and entering, because Atlanta PD confirmed the prints, and…I don’t know…a whole bunch of other crimes. A judge will have to set bail, and that won’t happen before Monday, but it’s going to be hefty. Apparently he’s already told the police he doesn’t have a means of posting, so he’s going to be with them for the duration.” She gave Madison’s knee a reassuring pat. “He’s out of your hair.”
Madison let out a breath and nodded, but instead of relief, numbness started to set in. “Do I need to contact the police?”
“They’ll reach out to you next week for your statement.”
“I lost my phone.”
Emergency Delivery (Love Emergency) Page 19