Shannon leaned over and whispered in her ear. “He’s mine, bitch. You can’t have him.”
“He loves me,” Claire said, fighting with her words.
Enraged, Shannon tried to slam her head into the hardwood floor, but Claire got her hands under her and pushed off the floor, sending Shannon falling off her back. Claire rolled and kicked her away. Shannon didn’t even slow down when her foot connected with her thigh. She jumped up and kicked Claire right in the ribs, taking all the air out of her. Claire wrapped an arm around her middle and tried to suck in a breath, but couldn’t.
Shannon grabbed her by the hair and dragged her backward toward the bed. Claire had no choice but to scramble to keep up, crab-crawling to keep Shannon from pulling out her hair. One hand fisted in her hair, the other grabbing hold under her arm, Shannon dragged her onto the bed and landed on top of her, straddling her hips.
Claire planted her heels in the mattress and tried to buck Shannon off. She laughed and smiled and it only frustrated and pissed Claire off more.
“What’s the matter, bitch, no one taught you how to fight?”
“Get off me. There’s nothing you can do to stop me from marrying Owen.”
“Wanna bet?”
Shannon closed her fist and swung. Claire raised her arms to block the blow, but Shannon kept on swinging and used her other hand to pull Claire’s arms from her face. Shannon landed a punch to her temple and left eye, blurring her vision and stunning her.
Shannon grabbed her hand and tried to pull the ring off. Claire closed her fist to stop her, grabbing Shannon’s wrist to pull it away. All she managed to do is rake her fingernails over Shannon’s skin, tearing the flesh, but not stopping the determined bitch.
“Stop. You can’t take my ring.”
Shannon pinched the top of her breast and twisted hard. Claire screamed again and bucked her hips, trying to throw Shannon off again. She laughed and let out an aroused sigh, her eyes closed on a ragged exhale. Claire snatched the opportunity and threw a punch, hitting Shannon right in the jaw. She didn’t stop, but hauled her arm back and punched again, hitting Shannon in the cheek and eye, sending her falling to the side on the bed. Damn, that hurt her hand. Claire scrambled up to her knees to make a run for it, but Shannon wasn’t done and grabbed her shoulders and slammed her forehead into Claire’s temple.
“Nighty-night, bitch.”
Claire blacked out, falling backward onto the bed. Shannon grabbed her face and shook her to make sure she was out.
“You’ve got some fight, bitch, but you need some practice.”
Shannon touched a finger to her swelling eye and winced, even as the smile bloomed on her face and rush of heat shot through her system. She wiped the blood from Claire’s split lip and cut eye off on Claire’s exposed belly and pulled her legs out from under her, positioning her on the bed to look like she’d gone to sleep.
She pulled the ring from Claire’s finger and slid it onto her own, holding the diamond up to catch the light from the bedside table lamp. Despite the smear of blood over the stone, it still sparkled like crazy, making Shannon smile.
“This is mine.”
Shannon turned, fell on her butt, and bounced off the end of the bed. A distinct spring in her step, she closed the bedroom door behind her. She kicked the sheets in front of the door, took the lighter from her pocket, and lit the pile on fire. She waited for the blaze to catch, turned, and sprinted down the stairs to the living room. She grabbed one of the thick pillar candles on the coffee table and placed it on the table next to the couch. She lit the wick, leaned down, and blew softly on the flame until it caught the couch on fire. The fire grew quickly, thick smoke filling the air. Once the curtains caught, the flames quickly spread up and across the ceiling. With Claire’s room overhead, it wouldn’t be long before the bitch burned.
The smoke detector upstairs went off a split second before the one downstairs. The alarm panel on the wall rang louder than both, creating a blaring sound that nearly made her deaf. The fire continued to spread and she coughed from the noxious smoke rising from the couch and area rug. She ran for the front door, unlocked the deadbolt and handle, and burst outside, quickly closing the door behind her. Two steps away, she turned back and opened the door just enough to reach in and lock the handle. Heat and smoke quickly billowed out. She slammed the door shut, confident the fire department would find everything as it should be. She used her shirt to wipe the already-warm door handle free of her prints and ran from the house.
Nearly eight o’clock, the sun had set and cast the yard in gray shadows that darkened with each passing minute. She’d left her car parked down the road, pulled into some bushes to hide it. When she reached the car, she jumped inside and gripped the steering wheel. She took several deep breaths to calm her racing heart, but only ended up coughing and hacking from the smoke and fumes she’d inhaled.
Her gaze fell on the ring and she spread her fingers wide, taking a better look. Much better than the tiny chip Dale gave her.
“Now that’s more like it.”
Hands on the wheel, she squeezed her eyes shut, and tried to think what came next. Her eyes stung. She flipped the mirror down and examined her face. Black eye, a knot on her forehead from head-butting Claire, some rake marks and bruises on her arms. Nothing major, but just enough to prove Dale went nuts again and attacked her. Then, he’d gone after Claire and killed her.
“Such a tragedy, Owen losing Claire that way. He’ll need consoling. We’ll bond over his grief and the pain and anguish Dale put us through.”
She smiled, her heart filled with triumph. This time, she’d get what she wanted. What she deserved.
Chapter Forty
* * *
OWEN DIALED CLAIRE’S cell phone again. It rang four times before her voicemail picked up for the fourth time.
“Maybe she’s in the shower.”
“Something is wrong,” Owen said again.
This time, his phone rang. He checked caller ID and the knot in his stomach turned to stone. Dread filled him so swiftly, he couldn’t breathe, but managed to answer anyway.
“Owen.”
“Mr. McBride, this is Fallbrook Security. We have a fire alarm at Ms. Walsh’s residence. We’ve contacted the fire department. They are on the way, but our instructions indicate to notify you of any alarm to the property.”
“I’m on my way there. Thank you for calling me.” He hung up and glanced at Dylan. “The house is on fire.”
“Shit.” Dylan picked up the radio and called in the house fire to dispatch at the same time he stomped on the gas and the cruiser hit some dangerous speeds around the back-road corners.
Owen barely held on to the dash and his sanity.
“Hurry the fuck up.”
“I’m going as fast as I can.”
Owen grabbed his cell again and punched in Brody’s number. “Are you at the ranch house?”
“Yes, why?”
“Do you see smoke coming from Claire’s place?”
“Shit. Yeah. I see it.”
“I’m on my way. She’s there. Go get her.”
Brody didn’t need to be told twice. The line went dead in Owen’s ear.
“We’re about the same distance away,” Dylan pointed out.
“I don’t give a shit who gets there first, so long as she’s okay.”
“Maybe she got out and is fine. Her phone is still in the house, so she can’t call you.”
“Maybe,” Owen said, not believing it. Everything inside of him said she was in that house and he needed to get there. Fast.
They pulled into the driveway just as Brody ran around to the back of the house. Claire’s car sat parked in the driveway, the back end pointed at the front door. He leapt from the car, leaving Dylan talking on his radio, giving orders, and detailing the situation.
Owen rushed to look inside Claire’s car, hoping to find her waiting inside. No Claire, just a bunch of boxes she’d packed to take to his place. The thought made
his heart ache even more.
No use trying to go in through the front. The double doors were engulfed in flames, the glass broken out. He raced after Brody and found him behind the house dragging one of Claire’s patio chairs underneath one of the upstairs windows.
“That’s her bedroom.”
“I saw her by the window,” Brody said.
“Where is she?”
“I think she collapsed before she could get the window open.”
“Fuck,” Owen shouted.
“Only one way to do this.” Brody handed him a rock, walked behind him, and stuck his head through Owen’s legs, raising him up on his shoulders when Brody stood again. “Hold on. This chair isn’t exactly built for our combined weight.”
Owen tried to balance and move with Brody as he hoisted them up onto the chair. Brody braced one hand on the wall and the other on the drainpipe attached to the side of the house.
“Can you reach the window?” Brody asked.
“Not really.”
“Up you go, man. I’ve got you.”
Owen sucked in a deep breath, and knowing time was of the essence, he maneuvered himself up to stand on Brody’s shoulders. Rock in hand, he bashed it into the glass, shattering it. Some rained down on Brody, but his brother didn’t move. Owen tried not to move his feet too much on his brother’s shoulders while he used the rock to knock all the glass from the frame. He tossed the rock away, planted his hands on the sill, ignored the bite as a leftover piece of glass pierced his skin, and hoisted himself up into the window frame. Claire lay sprawled on the floor, half-naked.
His shoulders barely fit through the sash window, but he managed to wedge them in so he could drag his legs up and through the window. Sirens sounded out front, giving him a momentary sense of relief. Help was on the way.
He fell to his knees and carefully rolled her onto her back. Her hair covered her face, so he traced a finger along her forehead, felt the large welt, sticky with blood, and pulled her hair away.
This was no accidental fire. Shannon had beat her, set the fire, and left her for dead.
Flames licked up the door from inside the house now that he’d opened the window and provided another oxygen source. He needed to get Claire out. Fast. He pulled his shirt up and over his nose, coughing from the smoke quickly filling the room and sinking to the floor. Claire didn’t stir when he hoisted her over his shoulder and bent close to the window, gulping in fresh air. Several firemen stood below, raising a ladder. One came up. Reluctant to give up Claire, he did so for her benefit, helping the fireman slide her out the window and over his back, her long hair draped down his legs. He stepped down the ladder, ever mindful of the precious cargo he carried. Owen followed, staring up at the smoking hole, knowing everything in Claire’s house was gone, but not her. He’d saved what’s important.
Brody gave him a hearty slap on the back when he reached the bottom of the ladder. Firemen let loose with the water hose, shooting it at the flames licking out from beneath the roof eaves.
“They can’t save it,” Brody said, leading him behind the firemen who’d taken Claire to the front of the house on a stretcher. They set her on the ground out of the way of the firemen trying to contain the fire to the house and not let it spread across the dry grass to the couple of outbuildings.
A medic put an oxygen mask over Claire’s face, slid a cuff onto her arm, and checked her blood pressure and used a stethoscope to listen to her heart. The frown made Owen’s heart sink into his stomach. The guy pressed on her bruised ribs. The first sign of life sent him to his knees beside her. She flinched from the pressure to her battered side and coughed uncontrollably, trying to roll to her side, but the medic and Owen held her down.
“You’re okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you. I’m here,” Owen crooned, holding her hand to his cheek. She didn’t open her eyes, but the coughing subsided when the medic gave her some water. He used an instrument to check her nose and throat.
“She’s got clear airways, despite the irritation from the smoke,” the medic reassured him. “I’m concerned about that head injury. She may have a concussion to go with her cracked ribs. I don’t think they’re broken, but we’ll get X rays at the hospital. The ambulance should be here in the next couple of minutes.”
“Thanks for taking care of her.”
“You got her out fast and alive. That’s what counts.”
The medic covered her with a blanket. Owen held her hand and whispered he loved her into her ear. He hoped and prayed she heard him and held on until they got her to the hospital. Even he could hear how hard she labored for each breath. The longer she struggled, the more she squirmed and tried to shift to relieve the ache in her ribs. He hated every moment she hurt.
“Where the fuck is that ambulance?”
“Right there.” The medic pointed to the driveway. The blue and red flashing lights momentarily confused him, but then his vision focused past the chaos of the firemen and police on scene to the car that pulled in behind the ambulance.
Shannon.
Owen felt the rage swell inside of him and fill him up, but he held it down, leaned over Claire, and kissed her on the lips, despite the nasty cut.
“I love you. I swear to you, no one will ever hurt you like this again.”
The rage was only tempered by the squeeze of her hand in his. She’d heard him.
“I love you, sweetheart, but I have to leave you for a few minutes. I promise you, I’ll be right back.”
She held firm to his hand, letting him know without words she didn’t want him to go.
“I need to finish this once and for all. I swear to you, I’ll be right back. Brody is right here beside you.”
Owen placed Claire’s hand in his brothers. “Don’t let go. Watch over her until I get back.”
“I swear, no one gets by me,” Brody assured him. “Go. Do what you have to do.”
Owen touched his finger to her forehead and with a heavy heart left her in Brody’s protection. Not that Shannon would get past him. Not this time. Not again.
Owen approached Dylan, who stood at the front of Shannon’s car, waiting for her to get out.
“Ready?” Dylan asked, saying so much in that one short word.
“I’ve got this,” he said, reining in his rage and the need to kill her the minute he saw her. Instead, he thought quickly, ordering his thoughts into a cohesive plan.
Shannon stepped out of the car and approached them. He hoped she saw grief on his face and not anger. He noted the black eye, the bruise on her jaw, and the gashes on her arms. Claire didn’t go down easily. No, she went down fighting.
“Owen, are you okay? You look terrible,” Shannon said, rushing up to him, putting her hands on his chest, and pressing close. He let her. She’d played games with his life, his turn to play games with hers.
“She’s gone,” he said, his voice gruff and raw, mostly thanks to the smoke he’d inhaled saving Claire, but it worked to his advantage now. Okay, maybe he played it up.
“What happened?” she asked, her voice filled with concern. He wondered how she did that so convincingly.
“I don’t know how the fire started, but she must have been overcome from the smoke.” He touched his finger to her eye, which probably hurt like hell. She didn’t even flinch, but leaned into his touch. “What happened to you? Are you okay?” he asked, adding as much fake concern as he could to the question.
“Dale. He came back and did this to me. He threatened to finish it. I guess, maybe . . . Do you think he came here to kill Claire?”
So that’s how she wanted to play this. Blame Dale again. Make him the scapegoat to her latest plan to get Claire out of the picture and somehow win his heart.
“When did you see Dale?” he asked, holding her by the shoulders.
“Just a little while ago. He found me at the house. We got into it when he refused to leave. I rushed out here, concerned he might have gone after you or Claire again.”
“Why didn’t you call th
e police? You know I can’t stand it when he hurts you.”
“Oh, Owen, everything is going to be okay. They’ll find Dale and arrest him for all of this. Claire is gone, but you’ve got me to lean on. We’ll get through this together.”
“You think so?” he asked, squeezing her arms when she tried to pull back.
“Owen, you’re hurting me.”
He met her gaze and squeezed harder, seeing the excitement in her eyes. He dropped his voice and whispered, “You like it when it hurts just a little bit.”
“Owen?”
He slid one hand up over her shoulder to the back of her neck and pulled her close. He cringed being this close, but sucked it up for Claire, and whispered in Shannon’s ear. “You like it. You want me to make it hurt oh so good, because that’s what excites you. That’s what gets you off.”
Her hand came up to hold on to his wrist. She smiled and her breath came out in short pants, excitement and anticipation rolling off her in waves.
“You understand me,” she said. “Without her in the way, you’ll see, we’ll be so good together.”
Owen traced his fingers across her neck, drawing away from her. He made a show of wiping his hand down his shirt, like wiping off something distasteful after touching her. He had to admit, as much as he wanted to wrap his fingers around her throat and choke the life out of her, he hated touching her.
Surprised and confused, she stared up at him, but didn’t see the real danger in front of her.
“I have something to tell you.”
Falling for Owen Page 29