by Lisa Childs
“Do you know where to take her?” Nick asked.
Gage nodded. “I know where the Payne Protection safe house is.” His arm around Megan, he began to guide her from the courtyard.
But she dragged her heels across the bricks. She needed to tell them about the dress—about Richard. But then what Gage had said to his best friend reminded her of what was most important: “Don’t worry about us,” he said. “Worry about getting into the church and making sure everyone else is safe.”
Nick nodded. “We will.”
That was the most important thing. She would tell Gage about the dress and let Nick and the others focus on getting everyone out the church.
Before he left his friend to that job, Gage asked, “Hey, what’s my nephew’s name?”
Despite the situation, Nick grinned as he replied, “Woodrow Gage Payne.”
He had named his son for her father. He would make sure he was all right. She didn’t have to worry, but she still had that knot of apprehension in her stomach. Maybe she wasn’t afraid for her father, though.
Maybe she was afraid for herself because as Gage suspected, she was pretty sure she was still in danger as long as she had the damn dress.
* * *
Nikki leaned down and felt for a pulse. There was none. She’d thought she might have killed someone before. But her brothers hadn’t admitted if it had been her gun or her brother Nick’s that had fired the kill shot. They’d told her it didn’t matter. They’d been protecting her—like they always had—in case she wouldn’t be able to handle taking a life.
There was no doubt now. She had killed someone.
Andrea stared up at her, her last expression one of hatred and shock. Maybe she hadn’t thought Nikki had it in her to take a life, either. But with the way Andrea had been wildly firing around the room, she’d had no doubt that the other woman would have killed her had Nikki not killed her first.
She glanced down at herself, looking for holes or blood in her mother’s old wedding gown. Surely, she’d been shot, too. With all the bullets she’d fired, how the hell had Andrea missed her?
She heard a gasp and glanced down. Had she been wrong? Was Andrea alive yet? She reached quickly for the woman’s weapon, making sure she couldn’t pull that trigger again. But she hadn’t been wrong. Andrea was definitely dead, but even in death, she tightly grasped her weapon.
The gasp she’d heard became a cry, one of fear and alarm. And she turned toward the doorway where her mother stood. Penny’s eyes were huge in a face that had gone deathly pale.
“Mom!” Nikki exclaimed. “Are you okay?”
If Penny had showed up earlier, she might have been shot in the cross fire.
When Andrea had dragged her into the groom’s dressing room, she’d closed and locked the door behind them. It was broken now.
Nikki dimly recalled it flying open. But Andrea had been standing between her and the door; she’d fired at it before swinging back toward Nikki.
That was when Nikki had shot her. She must have struck her right in the heart, which had shocked Nikki nearly as much as it had Andrea. She would have doubted that the woman possessed a heart at all.
There was no doubting her mother had a heart. Was she this upset over the dead woman? Or over Nikki firing the bullet that had killed her?
“It’s okay, Mom,” Nikki assured her. “I had no choice. I had to shoot her.”
Penny nodded. “I know. But you didn’t do it soon enough.”
Nikki glanced down at her dress again. There was no blood. “I’m fine. I didn’t get hit.” She stepped forward over Andrea’s dead body. “Did you?”
Her mother wouldn’t have been able to break down the door. But then she wouldn’t have needed to. Her mom had keys to every lock in the chapel. She would have just used one of them. Then dread clutched Nikki’s stomach. And she knew. Someone else had been hit.
Penny shook her head and tears spilled over, sliding down her face.
Was it one of her brothers? Had they finally managed to get inside only to get shot?
“Who?” Nikki asked. She stepped closer to the broken doorjamb and peered around her mom. She saw Logan and Parker standing near the doors to the vestibule, talking to some uniformed policemen.
Garek and Milek Kozminski—Payne Protection bodyguards and brothers-in-law—were there, too. But they kept their distance from the police. They had their reasons for not trusting them. They stood in the church aisle, staring down.
Where was Cooper? Where was Nick?
She stepped closer, and her mother launched herself into her arms, seeking comfort. Nikki was stunned. She’d never had to comfort her mom, not even when her dad had died. Of course she’d just been a child then, and her mom had been acting strong for all of them. Even when Penny had been confronted with the evidence of her father’s affair when Nicholas Rus had showed up in River City, she hadn’t needed comfort. She’d offered it instead to Nick and to Nikki.
Now Penny trembled in Nikki’s arms. Was it Nick? Was he the one who’d been shot?
She peered around her mother again. Some EMTs leaned over a body lying just outside the dressing room door.
“Who is it?” she demanded to know.
“Woodrow,” Penny’s voice cracked with emotion. “Woodrow has been shot.”
Now regret and remorse gripped Nikki. She wasn’t upset that she’d killed Andrea. She was upset that she hadn’t killed the bitch sooner. She might have taken out a good man with her. A man who obviously meant a lot to her mother.
Penny had already lost too much. She couldn’t lose this man, too.
Chapter 22
As the metal door slid closed behind them, Gage breathed a sigh of relief. The condo had been converted from an old warehouse to living space. It was all exposed brick and metal and polished concrete floors. He cared less about how it looked than about how secure it was with a security system only the Kozminskis—renowned jewel thieves—had been capable of cracking. Since they had designed it, no one else could get inside. No one else had been able to get to Gage’s sister when Nick had brought Annalise here.
Gage had brought Megan for the same reason that Nick had brought Annalise: to keep her safe. But could he? Even if they rounded up all the hired gunmen at the church, he doubted she would be safe yet.
You have no idea who the real danger is...
Megan shivered, as if she’d heard his thoughts. Or maybe she was just cold. He touched the buttons on the security panel. Not only did it make sure no one would breach the doors or windows, it turned up the thermostat as well. “It’ll warm up in here soon,” he promised her.
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. We can’t stay here.”
“Yes, we can,” he said. “Nobody can get inside. You’re safe.” At least she was safe from whatever dangers lurked outside. She wasn’t safe from him. He wanted her.
How the tunnel had affected him had proven to him that he wasn’t the man he’d once been. He was getting better. He hadn’t flashed back during the shoot-out. But he’d nearly crumpled in that tunnel. If not for her hand holding his, he might have.
Despite this temporary comfort, he couldn’t count on her fixing him. It had been months since he’d escaped, and he hadn’t been able to fix himself. Sure, he was better. But he would never be whole again. He would never be the man he’d once been. That was why he could never be with her; it wouldn’t be fair to put her through that.
“We need to go back,” she said.
“And get in their way?” he asked. “Every agent with Payne Protection is at the church.” But for him. “They will get everyone safely out of there.”
She released a shuddery breath and nodded. “I know. I know my being there would probably only put everyone in more danger.” Her big brown eyes glistened with tears of guilt and concern.
“So you accept that you’re still in danger?”
Biting her bottom lip, she nodded again.
His stomach tightened as need coursed
through him. He wanted to bite her bottom lip—gently—to pull it inside his mouth and nibble on it. He wasn’t strong enough now—after that damn tunnel—to resist the temptation. He lowered his head and did exactly what he’d just imagined.
He kissed her just as he’d wanted. Deeply. Passionately. And she kissed him back, her fingers sliding over his nape, holding his head down to hers. She nibbled on his lips, too, and shyly slid her tongue into his mouth.
And now he wanted more than kisses.
He wanted her—wanted to bury himself inside her—to feel connected with her the way they used to connect. When they’d made love, he had never felt closer to anyone than he had to her, so close that they’d been part of each other.
Her hands slid away from his neck and she stepped back until his arms—that he hadn’t even realized he’d wound around her—dropped back to his sides. He drew in a deep breath as he fought for control. He couldn’t connect to her as he once had. He wasn’t the same man.
And she was engaged to someone else. If the gunmen hadn’t laid siege to the chapel, she would have been married to Richard. She would have been leaving for her honeymoon.
The thought struck him like a blow, nearly doubling him over with pain. She wasn’t his.
“I’m sorry,” he said. He shouldn’t have kissed her. He had no right. Not anymore.
While that hadn’t stopped him at the church, he’d known then that he couldn’t go beyond kissing her. There had been too much going on.
Too much danger...
The danger wasn’t over yet, but it couldn’t get to them here. The only danger was Gage acting on the desire he felt for her.
“Don’t be scared,” he told her.
She glanced at the heavy steel door. “You said we’re safe here.”
“We are,” he agreed. “I don’t want you to be scared of me.”
“I’m not,” she replied—too quickly.
“You should be,” he said.
She’d seen him snap a man’s neck. Had been there when he’d freaked out in the tunnel. And she had to know that he’d taken out more than one man with his gun during the shoot-out. She would be crazy to not be afraid of him.
Her lips curved into a slight smile, a sad smile. “I used to be afraid of you,” she admitted.
“When?” he asked.
She had never betrayed any fear. But then she was far braver than he’d ever known.
“The first time we met,” she said. “At my father’s house, you terrified me.”
“Then?” He laughed at the thought of anyone fearing him then. Compared to the man he was now, he’d been a clueless kid then. Harmless. “Why?”
“Because of how you looked at me,” she said.
He could imagine how that had been—like he’d wanted to eat her alive. He suspected he was looking at her that way right now, because he wanted her even more now than he had then.
Even though the condo had begun to warm up, she shivered again. “No one had ever looked at me that way before.” Her throat moved as she swallowed. “Or since...”
Gage finally let himself ask the question that had been burning him up with jealousy. “Then why did you agree to marry Richard?”
“Because I was afraid of you,” she said. “I was afraid of how you made me feel, of how easily you could hurt me.”
He shook his head. “I never would have hurt you.” Not then. He wasn’t sure what he was capable of now; he wasn’t the same person he’d once been. That was why he couldn’t risk getting into a relationship with her again, even if she was interested.
“And I felt safe with Richard,” she continued, “like he couldn’t hurt me...”
He heard the doubt now. “You don’t believe that anymore?”
As if bracing herself, she sucked in a breath. “I need to tell you something.”
Nerves clenched his stomach muscles again. “What?”
“I’ll tell you,” she said. “But first you have to get me the hell out of this dress!”
* * *
Megan’s heart leaped like the passion in Gage’s green eyes. His pupils dilated. And he stepped closer to her. He must have thought she wanted out of her dress in order to be naked with him. She opened her mouth to explain. But as much as she wanted the dress off, she wanted Gage even more.
His arms remained at the sides of his tense body, and he shook his head. “This is a bad idea...”
It was. She knew that for all the reasons she’d just told him. She was afraid of him, not of what he would do to her but of how he made her feel. Too much.
“I can’t stay in this dress,” she said.
He drew back as if she’d doused him with a bucket of ice water. “Of course. Yeah, you’ve wanted out of that dress all day.”
And that was before she’d realized what it was all about; she’d never wanted to wear it in the first place. “Please,” she implored him. “Help me get it off.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. With a flick of his thumb, the blade popped out. “Turn around,” he told her.
She immediately spun around, presenting her back to him. He tunneled his fingers into her hair and lifted the heavy weight off her neck. But that left him with only one hand to wield the knife, so she replaced his hand with hers, holding her hair up and out of his way.
“I wish I hadn’t lost all of my pins earlier,” she remarked.
“I’m glad you did,” he said.
Heat flashed through her as she remembered all the times he had pulled down her hair. He’d preferred it curling wildly around her shoulders, had claimed that it was incredibly sexy.
“It’s in your way,” she pointed out. That was why she’d always bound it, to keep it out of her way. And because it made it so clear to her that she wasn’t genetically related to her father.
“It’s fine,” he said, and his fingertips skimmed along her spine.
Even through the heavy material, she could feel his touch. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted the fabric gone. She wanted nothing between his skin and hers. But most especially not this dress.
“I’ll cut through these little loops around the buttons,” he said.
“You should have used that knife earlier,” she said.
The buttons pinged as they dropped onto the wooden floor. And she sucked in a breath. “Wait!”
What if the buttons were like the rhinestones that weren’t really rhinestones? They spun away and rolled across the floor, disappearing beneath the leather sofa and chair.
“Did you change your mind?” he asked. “Do you want to keep it on?”
She could finally breathe again without the tight bodice squeezing her breasts. Expelling a ragged sigh of relief, she vehemently replied, “Hell, no!”
He chuckled, or at least she thought that was what that rusty sound was. But maybe she’d been mistaken, because when the dress dropped away and she turned back to him, he wasn’t laughing at all.
His face was tense, a muscle twitching along his tightly clenched jaw. He stared at her in that way that only he had ever looked at her—with desire. But it was more than desire. It was need.
She recognized it because she felt it herself. She had to tell him about the dress. When he reached for her, she forgot all about it and the diamonds on it. He lifted her out of the mound of material. Sweeping her up in his arms, he carried her through a doorway off the living room.
He didn’t release her, not even when he laid her down on a bed. Instead he joined her, his hard, long body pressing hers into the mattress. And he kissed her. His lips pressed against hers, deepening the kiss.
She lifted her hands, clutching at him. Holding him to her, she kissed him back and rubbed her breasts against his chest. While she wore only the white silk bra and panties she’d had on beneath her gown, he wore a tuxedo. The black jacket, the loosened tie and vest. It was too much. She needed to feel his skin against hers. Wishing she had his knife to undo the buttons, she reached between them and pulled his shirt loos
e.
But he caught her hands.
“Gage,” she murmured in protest. He couldn’t leave her like this, wanting him so badly that she trembled with need.
He groaned and leaned his forehead against hers. “I don’t think I can stop...”
“I thought you were.”
He shook his head. “I was just getting rid of this.” He pulled off his jacket, dropping it to the floor beside the bed. He was more careful with the holster and gun inside it, laying them on the table next to the bed. His other clothes followed until he was completely naked.
The blinds were drawn in the bedroom, so the only light spilling in was from the living room. But despite the shadows, she could see the scars on his body.
As he caught her staring, he tensed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I forgot.” And he reached for his shirt.
She caught his hand, forcing him to drop it back onto the floor. “I’m glad,” she said.
“That I got hurt?”
He hadn’t just been hurt. He’d been tortured.
“I’m glad that for a few minutes you were able to forget what you’ve been through,” she said. Because she didn’t think she would ever forget what he’d endured, how she’d nearly lost him.
As she stared up at his face, she wondered if he was really back. Or if the Gage she had loved was gone forever.
“I won’t ever really forget,” he said. “I won’t ever really get over what I went through—what I saw—what I had to do to survive.”
She shivered.
“I’m not the man you remember,” he said. He reached for his shirt again, intent on putting it back on to hide his scars. And maybe to hide his injured soul from her.
She stopped him again, her hand on his. Then she leaned forward and kissed him. “You’re not the same,” she agreed. “But neither am I.”
His lips curved into a slight smile. “But you don’t know me anymore.”
“I know that you’re the man that I want.” Not just tonight but always.
He nodded. “We both need this,” he said, as if he was trying to convince himself. “We’ve been through hell today.” And he closed his arms around her, drawing her body against his scarred one.